Chapter 2: Yvette is Home of Reborn in Strength

"Why are you here?" I asked, my voice steady.

Strangely, I didn't feel the overwhelming hatred or resentment I once thought I would upon seeing her. Nor did I feel the obsessive love that had once consumed me.

Instead, all I felt was power.

It had been a long time since I had seen the real Yvette. She looked exactly as I remembered—radiant and youthful. She could have stood beside the most famous actresses and still outshone them effortlessly.

It wasn't surprising that she had once captivated me, driving me mad with longing.

Even after everything—even after dying once—I couldn't deny that I still appreciated her beauty. But my heart no longer ached for her.

Yvette's eyes swept over me before shifting to the empty dishes on the table. A flicker of displeasure crossed her bright eyes before she strode toward me, exuding an air of suffocating authority.

My chest tightened, and I instinctively took a step back. Though I was taller than her, even in heels, it still felt as if I were the one looking up at her.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

I knew this was still early in our first year of marriage, and Yvette had yet to realize how deeply she loved Randall. I had done nothing wrong, so I assumed she wouldn't go out of her way to make things difficult for me.

Yet, as I retreated, I realized I couldn't stop myself from wanting to keep my distance. After deciding to let her go, I no longer craved her attention. In fact, I found myself resisting it.

Yvette's perfectly shaped eyebrows furrowed briefly, confusion flashing in her eyes before she quickly masked it with a mocking smile.

"Owen, you went through all this trouble to trick me into coming back, and now you're acting like this? Who are you trying to fool?"

I frowned. "What are you talking about?"

Trick her? If anything, I had wished she would stay away forever.

My response made her frown deepen. She stepped forward, gripping the collar of my shirt. Her stunning eyes turned cold as she spat, "Don't play dumb. Didn't you plan this with your cousin? He told me you were on your deathbed and forced me to come back to see you."

A suffocating feeling washed over me, and pain shot through my neck as I instinctively shoved her away.

"I didn't plan anything with him! I had no idea about any of this. He must have acted on his own."

In my past life, I had loved Yvette pathetically. Birthdays, holidays, anniversaries—I never once demanded she come home to celebrate with me.

And after dying once, I certainly wasn't going to start now.

Yvette sneered. "You and your cousin are practically joined at the hip. Are you seriously going to claim you didn't know what he was up to?"

As I looked at her annoyed expression and the impatient gleam in her eyes, I couldn't help the bitter, mocking smile that spread across my lips.

It wasn't aimed at her—it was aimed at myself.

In my past life, our relationship had started polite but distant. She ignored me, using cold indifference as her weapon of choice.

And I bent over backward trying to thaw her frozen heart.

When I finally found out she loved someone else, I resorted to every desperate trick I could think of to keep her. But the more I tried, the more she loathed me.

I used to convince myself it was my fault, that I had done something to make her dislike me. But in this life, I had done nothing. I had simply come home on our anniversary, feeling unwell, and had a bowl of chicken soup.

Yet, she still looked at me with the same contempt and disdain.

It was clear now—she hadn't hated me because of anything I had done. She simply hated me because she couldn't stand me.

Straightening up, I met her gaze and said, "Yvette, let's get a divorce."

She blinked, caught off guard for a brief moment before a smirk curved her refined lips.

"Do you hear yourself right now?"

"Of course, I do. If I had a choice, I would have preferred to be reborn before we ever got married."

I glanced down at the calluses on my palms. Because I had loved her, I willingly gave up my future as the heir to my family's business. I became a househusband, revolving my entire life around her.

And after all that self-sacrifice, it turned out I was the only one who had feelings in this relationship.

"This is a marriage of convenience. I know you don't like me, so why don't we set each other free? Isn't that better for both of us?"

Her expression darkened, and a flash of fury cut through her usual icy demeanor.

"Unbelievable," she spat. "You were the one who groveled in front of Grandpa, begging for this marriage. You said all sorts of nonsense until I had no choice but to marry you, and now you're asking for a divorce just because you feel like it?"

She took a step forward, glaring up at me.

My heart skipped a beat.

Even though our marriage was a sham, my family was far beneath hers in terms of wealth and status. If it hadn't been for our grandfathers arranging our childhood engagement, I wouldn't have even had the right to ask for her hand.

Yvette had resented the arranged marriage from the very start. If her grandfather, Alex Fleming, hadn't been seriously ill and forced her into it, she never would have agreed to be my wife.