Reborn, I Divorced My Cruel Husband

The heart monitor screamed. My blood soaked the sheets. My husband, Damian, was too busy for my life or death. The doctors moved in a blur, their voices urgent, as my life drained away.

They needed Damian's permission for a hysterectomy, the only thing that could save me. But a cold voice on the phone said he was in a "crucial M&A meeting" and "cannot be disturbed." My last flicker of hope died with me.

I watched from above as they covered my face. Memories flooded in: giving up my dreams, lonely holidays, sacrificing my family's company, all for a love that abandoned me to bleed out. Pure regret, then an icy rage, filled the void where my heart had been.

How could he? The thought burned: *If I had another chance, I would never love him again. I would live for myself.*

Then, a gasp. I woke up, alive, in my penthouse bedroom. The digital clock read five years ago, the morning of the real estate auction. I immediately chose a scarlet dress and knew my first step: secure the property that would be worth a fortune, then divorce Damian.