Reborn to Marry My Cheating Ex's Billionaire Rival

After our arranged corporate marriage, I spent three years playing the dutiful socialite, working the elite circles to help Julian take over his family's empire. The day I found out I was pregnant, I rushed home, bursting with joy, only to find Julian in bed with our housekeeper's daughter. Watching that fragile little girl beneath him, taking his breathless thrusts, I dug my nails into my palms and turned to leave. Seconds after stepping out the front door, a speeding truck crushed me to death. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the exact moment I found out I was pregnant. This time, I calmly hid the pregnancy test. I stopped securing multi-million-dollar deals for Julian. Instead, I teamed up with his greatest corporate rival. Later, Julian's empire crumbled, and he fell to his knees, begging for my help. By then, I was walking down the aisle at a billionaire wedding of the century, holding a child who looked just like him, with his sworn enemy standing beside me as my groom. With bloodshot eyes, Julian cried, "I'm his biological father! How could you marry someone else and let him raise my son?" I sneered, "Whoever I choose will be his father. And naturally, I pick the best." I stood at the top of the stairs, a crumpled ultrasound report clutched in my hand. Faint, stifled moans drifted from the bedroom upstairs. My heart was dead silent, not a single ripple of pain left. Just seconds ago, a massive truck had crushed my bones, tearing my body apart in agonizing pain. And the next second, I was standing here, completely intact. I had traveled back in time—three hours earlier. Right when Julian's betrayal was underway. In my past life, hearing those sounds ripped my heart to pieces. I had run out of the villa like a maniac, straight into oncoming traffic. There was no after that. Now, all I felt like doing was laughing. Throwing away my life and my unborn baby's life over a worthless man was pure stupidity. Upstairs, Blair's moans grew louder and bolder. I should have noticed long ago. The daughter of our housekeeper was never as innocent as she acted. She always looked at Julian with those wide, doe-like, teary eyes. Julian once even told me, "Scarlett, why can't you be more like Blair? A woman should be soft, vulnerable, and look up to her man." "You're so independent, you're suffocating me." It wasn't until now that I realized. A man's so-called "suffocation" is nothing but a convenient excuse for his own filthy desires. Without an ounce of emotion, I folded the pregnancy report in half, and then in half again. I tore it to shreds. Then I tossed it straight into the trash can at the end of the hall. For three years. I paved Julian's path to power and played nice with fake, condescending socialite wives. I used to never touch alcohol, but to secure contracts for him, I drank with clients until my stomach was bleeding. I leveraged my family's entire network to turn him from an overlooked second son into the sole heir of the Sterling empire. Everyone in high society used to say with envy that Julian had struck gold by marrying such a capable wife. And what did this "capable wife" get in return? The filthy betrayal happening right upstairs. The corner of my lips curled into a cold smirk. Julian, if you want to be ruthless, don't blame me for being heartless. Over these years, I stopped being that naive Vance heiress who thought love was everything. Those connections, those resources, and the elite clients who signed deals only because of my name— Whose side were they really on? We were about to find out. I pulled out my phone. My first call went to Chloe, my personal assistant. She picked up almost instantly. "Ms. Vance." "Chloe, audit every single asset Julian and I co-own. Real estate, stocks, mutual funds, and offshore trusts. I want a comprehensive list, and I want it fast." The line went silent for a second. Chloe had worked with me for five years; she knew my working style inside out. She didn't ask a single question, only answering with steady professionalism. "Understood, Ms. Vance. It will be in your private inbox before nine tomorrow morning." "Good." After hanging up, I dialed another number. It was a top-tier private security firm specializing in covert surveillance. "Hello. I've set up several pinhole cameras around my villa. I need your technicians to link them directly to my phone." "Ma'am, our rates for same-day discrete service are quite steep." "Money isn't an issue," I replied coldly. "I have one requirement: absolute discretion. No one can ever know you were here." "Understood. Send the address. Our team will be disguised as utility plumbers and arrive within two hours." "Make it quick." With that handled, I scrolled through my contacts. After a brief pause, my thumb hovered over Christian King's name. He was Julian's fiercest rival, the only tycoon in the city capable of crushing the Sterling Group. Julian had always treated him like a thorn in his side. In my past life, I had even publicly humiliated Christian at charity galas just to boost Julian's ego. Looking back, I was an absolute fool. I took a deep breath and hit call. It rang for a while before someone picked up. "Hello?" A deep, magnetically smooth voice came through the receiver. "Mr. King, it's Scarlett." There was a faint, mocking chuckle on the other end. "Mrs. Sterling. What a rare honor." The title was dripping with thinly veiled sarcasm. I didn't care. Taking a slow breath, I cut straight to the chase. "I want to make a deal with you."Christian chuckled on the other end. "A deal with Mrs. Sterling? I doubt I can afford it." His tone was sharp with caution and distance. I couldn't blame him. In my past life, I had made him lose face in public more than once to protect Julian. His current reaction was completely expected. "You can afford it," I said, my voice icy calm. "The South District waterfront project. Julian is obsessed with winning it." "To make sure he gets it, he's liquidating all of Sterling's cash reserves and even mortgaging two offshore subsidiaries." I rattled off a string of exact financial figures. A sharp intake of breath came over the line. Julian had bragged about all these numbers in bed, wanting to show off how bold and powerful he was. He had no idea that his pillow talk would become the very weapon I handed to his worst enemy. Christian fell completely silent. A long moment passed before he spoke, curiosity creeping into his low voice. "What do you want?" "Ten percent of Sterling Group's equity." I demanded an astronomical price. Christian laughed again, this time pure disdain. "Mrs. Sterling, you're overestimating yourself." "And underestimating me." "Why on earth should I trust you?" I smiled. "Because I'm Scarlett Vance." "I'm the one who took Julian from a nobody and built him into an empire's heir." "Mr. King, you can only see what Julian chooses to show you." "But I can hand you every single trump card he is desperately trying to hide." The line went dead quiet. "Fine," he finally said. "Just one condition." "The bidding conference for the South District project is at ten tomorrow morning." "Make Julian walk away." "If you pull that off, we'll talk." He hung up immediately. Listening to the dial tone, the smile on my lips only deepened. Testing me? Christian, you're about to realize that partnering with me is the best business decision you will ever make. Right after I put my phone away, the doorbell rang. The security team had arrived. Two men in utility uniforms holding toolboxes gave me a brief nod. I stepped aside to let them in. "Master bedroom, home office, living room, and the hallway leading to the backyard," I instructed concisely. "Route every feed straight to my private cloud server. Leave zero local trace." The lead technician flashed an OK sign. "Thirty minutes, Ms. Vance." They worked with seamless efficiency and clinical precision. Just then, my phone screen lit up. I opened it. It was a short fifteen-second video. The location: Julian's home office. Blair was wearing my favorite silk bathrobe, the neckline pulled down scandalously low. In the background, Julian's drunken voice called out, "Blair, come here." At the end of the clip, Blair stared directly into the lens with a coquettish, mocking smile. Below was a text message: *Julian got so drunk tonight, so I'm staying to look after him. You won't mind, will you, Scarlett?* Looking at that innocent yet venomous face, I saved the video locally and backed it up to an encrypted drive. Then, I texted back four words: *Take good care of him.* On the other side of that screen, Blair was probably fuming that she didn't get a reaction. What she wanted was an angry confrontation, a screaming match, a mental breakdown. Too bad. I wasn't giving her that satisfaction. I deleted our chat history and muted my phone. Upstairs, faint drilling sounds echoed down. Half an hour later, the lead technician walked over. "All set, Ms. Vance. The app is installed on your phone, giving you live streaming access anytime. We've also synced all previous records to your device." "Excellent." I handed him the pre-prepared cash envelope. He weighed it in his hand and smiled with satisfaction. "Pleasure doing business with you." Once they left, I poured a glass of red wine and walked up to the second-floor office. Whatever had just happened upstairs had already concluded. Julian's heavy footsteps sounded from the master bedroom, carried by impatience and exhaustion. Seeing me standing there, his brow furrowed fiercely. "Scarlett, what kind of sick mind games are you playing now?" He reeked of another woman's perfume, mingled with the scent of the same body wash as my silk robe. Disgusting. I swirled the wine in my glass without looking up. "Julian, let's talk about the South District project."He scoffed, marched over, snatched the wine glass from my hand, and downed it in one gulp. "What do you know about business?" "Just stick to being the quiet Mrs. Sterling and keep kissing up to those old society ladies." "Stay the hell out of my corporate affairs." I finally looked up, my gaze steady and calm. "I just came to give you a friendly reminder." "The Vance family will not provide a single dime of backing for this bid." "Furthermore, my father has already spoken to all the banking executives tied to our family. Not a single bank will approve your bridge loans." Julian's face instantly darkened. He glared at me, eyes narrowing dangerously. "What do you mean by that?" "I mean," I smiled faintly, "Julian, you won't be able to secure the funding." "You!" Furious, he lunged forward and grabbed my wrist in a vice-like grip. "Scarlett! Are you threatening me?" "You think I can't run this company without the Vance family?" "Let me tell you something: that South District bid is mine, no matter what!" He shove me away with disgust and stormed into his study. Seconds later, he came out with a thick stack of documents and slammed them onto the floor right at my feet. Papers scattered everywhere across the hardwood floor. "Take a good look! This is my finalized proposal!" "Even without your family, I'll still win! Open your damn eyes and look at it!" I let out a soft laugh. With bloodshot eyes, Julian glared down at me furiously. "What the hell are you laughing at?" I lowered my eyes to the scattered pages—pages I had spent countless sleepless nights helping him revise and refine. "I'm laughing at how stupid you are." "Julian, I've reviewed this pitch dozens of times." "To you, it's your trump card, your ultimate masterpiece." "But to me," I looked up, locking eyes with his raging stare, "it's full of fatal flaws." He looked at me as if I had lost my mind. "Flaws? Scarlett, don't you forget that the core structure of this pitch came from what you taught me!" "Yes, it did," I admitted smoothly. "I taught you how to frame the narrative, how to polish the data, and how to anticipate your competitors' moves." "What I never taught you," I paused, a cold smirk touching my lips, "was the real strategy." The color slowly drained from his face. "You only learned the surface, never the essence." "You think risking every cent of your liquid reserves is bold and brave?" "Let me tell you what that really is: gambling." "You think mortgaging your offshore assets shows banks your unyielding determination?" "No. All they see is an absurdly high financial risk and Sterling's crumbling cash flow." "And those government connections you're so proud of?" I let out a mocking laugh. "Julian, have you forgotten who introduced you to those officials and who maintained those relationships for you?" "Do you honestly think they gave a damn about Julian Sterling?" He stumbled back a step, leaning against the wall, his eyes filled with disbelief. "You... you...""What about me?" I slowly took a step toward him. "Julian, you've lost this game before it even began." "Bullshit!" He roared, panic flashing across his eyes. "Christian King can't beat me! He doesn't know my bottom-line price!" "Is that so?" Stopping in front of him, I pulled out my phone and tapped the screen. Four split-screen feeds appeared in crisp high-definition, showing the study, the living room, the master bedroom... And the footage from less than an hour ago, showing him and Blair tangled on the office couch. Julian's breathing instantly caught in his throat. "You... how the hell are the house feeds on your phone?" "It's not just the house," I replied nonchalantly, tapping the screen again. The display switched. Now showing the executive office suite at Sterling Group headquarters. Crystal clear, from multiple angles. "It's your office, your luxury cars..." Julian's face turned completely ghostly white. "Scarlett! You psychotic bitch!" He finally snapped, lunging forward to snatch my phone. I easily dodged him. "Crazy?" "Compared to what you've done, this is nothing." "You reap the rewards of the resources I hand you on a silver platter, and then bring another woman into our home to screw on the furniture." "Julian, you're the sick one here." Trembling with uncontrollable rage, his lips quivered. Right then, my phone rang. It was Christian. Right in front of Julian, I tapped the speakerphone button. "Mr. King, working late?" Christian's deep, amused voice echoed through the hallway. "Just reviewing Julian's bidding proposal. Nicely put together, but unfortunately..." Julian's entire body stiffened, his eyes fixed in horror on my phone. I smiled, seamlessly picking up Christian's thought. "Unfortunately, we've already anticipated every single backup plan he has." Christian let out a low chuckle. "Precisely. Scarlett, I'm starting to believe that partnering with you will be the smartest decision of my life." "So, regarding tomorrow's bidding conference... will Mr. Sterling show up?" I cast a cold glance at the pale, ruined man before me. "Don't worry." "Julian won't be attending the auction tomorrow." "He's going to personally gift wrap the South District project and hand it straight to you." The other end fell silent for a beat before Christian's satisfied response came through. "Splendid. I'll await your good news." I hung up. For the first time, sheer pleading desperation surfaced in Julian's eyes. "Scarlett... I was wrong..." "I don't care about the South District land anymore..." "Take down the cameras, delete the footage, please... let's just go back to the way things were." Go back? I crouched down slowly, meeting his eyes at level. "Julian, you still don't get it, do you?" "The South District land and your ten percent equity are just the appetizers." "Starting tomorrow," "I'm going to make sure Sterling Group's stock isn't worth a single cent."