Reborn to Ruin My Heroic Husband

At twenty, I was kidnapped. Julian Sterling risked his life to save me. He took a knife to the chest for me, almost losing his life. From then on, I was completely devoted to him, marrying him despite my family’s fierce objections. But after the wedding, he slowly drained my family’s empire, driving both of my parents into the hospital from sheer shock and grief. I literally fell to my knees, begging him for mercy. He just stood there, blowing out a cloud of cigarette smoke, looking down at me cold-bloodedly. "Do you really think that kidnapping back then was an accident, Clara?" "I hired the kidnappers. I stabbed myself. If I hadn’t played the knight in shining armor, how else would a rich, naive girl like you marry me so willingly?" Shortly after, he locked me away in a private psychiatric facility. I ended up dying on a cold, permanently bolted hospital bed. But when I opened my eyes again, I was right back to the day he "saved" me. Covered in blood, Julian held me tightly in his arms, his voice incredibly hoarse and trembling: "Clara, thank God you’re okay. You have no idea... I almost lost you!" I pressed my face against his bloody chest, listening to his heartbeat, and calmly dialed 911. "Hi, I’d like to report a crime. Someone orchestrated my kidnapping." The very second the call connected, the hand Julian had cupped behind my head went completely rigid. It was a fraction of a second, but I felt it. "Clara?" He looked down at me, his face as pale as paper from the blood loss. His beautiful eyes were filled with utter confusion and a flash of panic. "Who are you calling?" I didn’t look at him. I switched my phone to the hand furthest from him and rattled off our exact location to the dispatcher. "Clara." Julian’s hand slid from the back of my head to my shoulder. His grip wasn’t tight, trembling with a weak, sickly vibration. "Don't be scared. The kidnappers already ran. I'm right here with you." He paused, his voice dropping an octave, sounding even hoarser. "You don't need to call the police. Someone nearby probably already called them." What a flawless performance. Even though he was gravely injured, he was still comforting me, keeping his tone gentle and controlled. He didn't even directly forbid me from calling. I stared at him for two seconds. "No, I want to call them myself." "I want to tell the detectives myself that someone is trying to kill me." Julian’s pupils shrank instantly. "Clara..." He parted his pale, bloodless lips. His body swayed slightly, as if he was about to pass out. The ambulance and the police cruisers arrived almost at the exact same time. The police did a quick preliminary check while Julian was loaded onto a stretcher. He was unconscious now. The wound on his back was still oozing blood, staining most of his white shirt a deep crimson. The paramedics said he had lost a massive amount of blood and needed emergency surgery. A young female officer accompanied me to the precinct to take my statement. On the way, she asked if I was traumatized. I told her I was holding up fine. At the station, I walked them through the entire sequence of events. The detective was incredibly meticulous, taking down every detail about the kidnappers' physical descriptions, filling up two whole pages of his notebook. Finally, he closed his notebook and said, "We’ll open a formal investigation immediately. Go home and get some rest. We’ll contact you the moment we have an update." I looked at him and asked, "What if the investigation reveals that the victim's savior actually orchestrated the whole thing? Is that a crime?" The detective blinked, caught off guard. He studied my face, choosing his words carefully. "If someone planned it but no actual physical harm was caused to you, it might be harder to prosecute as a severe felony, depending on the jurisdiction. It usually lands under conspiracy, but we'd need solid proof of intent and execution." Harder to prosecute without solid proof. I repeated those words in my head and almost laughed out loud. By the time I stepped out of the precinct, it was nearly midnight. My parents had rushed over the second they got the news. They were waiting anxiously by the entrance. My mom threw her arms around me, sobbing hysterically. My dad stood next to her, his eyes bloodshot, cursing the bastards who dared touch his daughter. Looking at them, all I could think of was how Julian had driven them into their graves in my past life. My mom had suffered a massive stroke, and my dad had a fatal heart attack. They passed away one after the other. I wrapped my arms tightly around my mom’s waist, burying my face in her shoulder. "Mom, I’m okay. I’m safe." This time, nothing bad is going to happen to us. Back in my bedroom, I lay awake in bed, my mind flooded with memories of my past life. In my previous life, at this exact moment, I was practically living at the hospital to take care of Julian. I washed his clothes, brought him meals, and stayed by his side day and night. When my mom came to visit, she cried out of sheer heartbreak, asking why I was so obsessed with an outsider. I had told her, He’s not an outsider, Mom. He’s the man I’m going to marry. And I did. I really married him. At our wedding, my dad placed my hand in Julian’s. He patted Julian’s shoulder and said, Julian, she’s my only daughter. Please, take good care of her. Julian had smiled warmly, looking every bit the perfect, honorable gentleman. Don't worry, Arthur. I will. Within three months of our marriage, he convinced me to sign over all my shares in Vance Enterprises to his name. He told me, Sweetheart, you’ve been feeling so stressed lately. Don't worry about the corporate politics. Let me handle the business for you. And I, like a fool, believed him. I signed every single document my parents had gifted me. I didn't even read the transfer agreements. I signed whatever he put in front of me. By the time I realized those shares were no longer mine, my dad was already hospitalized from the shock. Julian had allied with the other hostile board members, slowly eating away at our company from the inside. By the time my dad realized what was happening, the board was already filled with Julian's puppets.On his hospital bed, my dad had looked at me with hollow eyes. Where are your shares, Clara? I whispered, I gave them to Julian. My dad closed his eyes, silent for a painfully long time. I went to beg Julian. I literally knelt on the floor in front of him, crying, begging him to return the company to my family. He just sat on the velvet sofa, smoking a cigarette. Through the hazy grey smoke, he looked down at me with an expression of cold disgust that I would never forget. Shortly after that, he committed me to a high-security private asylum. He told everyone that I had suffered a psychotic break due to the trauma of the kidnapping, claiming I had severe paranoia. My family was kept under his control, my friends were blocked from contacting me, and the man I once called my husband only visited me once a month. He would stand behind the reinforced glass, staring at me with a completely blank, emotionless face. They injected me with heavy sedatives for a whole year. My body deteriorated rapidly. My arms were covered in needle bruises, my muscles withered away, and eventually, I didn't even have the strength to roll over in bed. In the end, I died on that permanently locked hospital bed. No one knew. No one came for me. But now, here I was, sitting by my bedroom window. Twenty years old, alive, healthy, and perfectly sane. My phone buzzed. It was a message from Julian via Snapchat. He had regained consciousness at the hospital. He asked if I was okay, if I was traumatized, and said he would come see me the very second he was discharged. In my past life, he destroyed my family for his own greed. Going straight to the police wouldn't work right now because I didn't have concrete physical evidence linking him to the kidnapping. Even if the police caught the two hired thugs, those men wouldn't easily snitch on Julian. And even if they did, Julian had a top-tier legal team; he could easily spin it as a misunderstanding or claim he was being framed. Besides, in my past life, Julian had casually mentioned that those two kidnappers "disappeared" shortly after. Dead men tell no tales. If the law couldn't punish him right now, I would do it myself. I wouldn't let him drain my family's wealth this time, nor would I give him any chance to lock me in an asylum. I was going to make him feel what it was like to lose absolutely everything. Everything he did to me in my past life, I would return to him, piece by piece. I stared at the screen for a few seconds, then slowly typed back. Julian, please just focus on recovering. I made some chicken noodle soup. I’ll bring it to the hospital this afternoon. Send. In the afternoon, I packed the homemade soup in a thermos and took an Uber to the hospital. When I pushed open the door to his private suite, Julian was propped up against the pillows. His profile was framed by the window, the soft afternoon sunlight casting long eyelashes over his pale cheeks. He wore a hospital gown, his neck wrapped in bandages. He was still pale, but he looked much more energetic than yesterday. When he saw me enter, the corners of his eyes crinkled with warmth, and his lips naturally curved upward. "Clara? What are you doing here?" His voice was still a bit raspy, but his tone was filled with pure joy and a touch of concern. "You went through such a horrific ordeal yesterday. You should be at home resting." I walked over, set the thermos on the bedside table, and unscrewed the lid. The savory aroma of the chicken soup immediately filled the sterile room. I poured a bowl, handed it to him, and lowered my eyes, making my voice sound incredibly soft and vulnerable. "I couldn't just sit at home. I was too worried about you. You lost so much blood... and it was all to protect me." As he took the bowl, his fingertips brushed against the back of my hand. He paused, then gently wrapped his hand over mine. "Clara." He stared into my eyes, his gaze incredibly tender. "No one will ever hurt you again. I promise." I looked into his eyes for a brief second, then lowered my head, pretending to blush with embarrassment. "Drink the soup first before it gets cold." He smiled and took a sip. I sat down on the chair beside his bed, watching him eat. I couldn't help but remember the days I spent taking care of him in my past life. Back then, I had literally spoon-fed him. Every time he finished, he would look at me and say, Clara, you’re so good to me. I promise I’ll spend the rest of my life taking care of you. The old me was so moved that she thought she had found her happily ever after. But the current me was just wondering: Did a single honest word ever come out of this man's mouth? After he finished the soup, he set the empty bowl down and leaned back against the pillows, his eyes fixed on me. "By the way, when the detectives interviewed me yesterday, they said they're actively working the case. They mentioned that if they can track down those two kidnappers, they’ll definitely find out who orchestrated the whole thing."I brought it up casually, but my eyes were locked on Julian’s face, catching his subtle reactions. His hand on the bedside table twitched slightly. But in the next second, he naturally withdrew his hand, turning to look at me with a perfectly calm, warm expression. "That's great. People like that need to be behind bars so they can't hurt anyone else." "I totally agree," I said, offering him a bright, sweet smile. He smiled back. I stayed at the hospital for nearly two hours before leaving. Before I left, Julian held my hand tightly, asking if I could visit him every day because the hospital was incredibly boring. I whispered, "Of course." He beamed. The very second I stepped out of his hospital room, the smile wiped off my face. The window at the end of the hallway was open. The cool October breeze blew in, sending a chill down my spine. I leaned against the windowsill, mentally organizing my strategy. From Julian's perspective, I was still the naive, wealthy heiress who had been completely swept off her feet by his heroic act. In his eyes, I was easy to manipulate and utterly devoted to him. He would proceed with his plan: court me, propose to me, marry me, and then systematically strip me of everything I owned. I wasn't going to stop him from pursuing me. In fact, I was going to play along perfectly. Because only when he stepped fully into my trap could I take all of his chess pieces, one by one. I visited Julian every single day. His recovery was remarkably fast; his wounds were healing beautifully, and he was soon able to walk around. On the fifth day, there was someone else in his room. A woman in her late forties, dressed in modest, plain clothing. Her eyes were red as she sat by his bedside, holding his hand. When she saw me enter, she stood up, scanning me from head to toe with a calculating look. "Mom, this is Clara. The girl I told you about." Julian leaned against his pillows, introducing us with a warm smile. "Clara, this is my mom." I had met his mother in my past life, but that was much later. Back then, after I married Julian, his mother had always behaved with a polite but cold distance. She never said anything to my face, but I once overheard her whispering to Julian in the kitchen: Clara might be rich, but that money belongs to the Vance family, not you. You need to find a way to get it into your own name. I hadn't thought much of it back then. But looking back now, that statement was incredibly revealing. "Nice to meet you, Mrs. Sterling," I greeted her politely, placing the thermos on the table. "I didn't know you were visiting today, otherwise I would have brought enough soup for both of us." Martha Sterling glanced at me, her expression guarded. "Don't worry about me," she said, her tone flat. "You two talk. I’ll go grab some fresh water." Once she left, the room fell into a cozy silence. Julian gestured for me to come closer. I sat on the edge of the bed. He reached under his pillow and pulled out a sleek, elegant envelope, handing it to me. "What's this?" I opened it. Inside was a beautiful card with a watercolor painting of red roses on the front. When I opened it, there were a few lines of elegant handwriting—Julian's handwriting. Clara, thank you so much for taking care of me these past few days. Meeting you is the absolute best thing that has ever happened to my life. — Julian It was simple, not even a full-blown love letter, but I knew exactly what he was doing. He had used the same tactics in my past life. During the years I thought he was genuinely in love with me, these little romantic gestures were deployed one after another, weaving a tight net that slowly trapped me. I looked up at him. He was watching me, a faint trace of anxiety in his eyes. "Julian," I holding the card, keeping my voice soft and trembling slightly. "What does this mean?" He took a deep breath, looking as though he was making the most monumental decision of his life. He reached out and grasped my hand. His hands were large, his knuckles defined. He held me with just the right amount of pressure—not enough to feel controlling, but firm enough that I couldn't easily pull away. "Clara." He looked directly into my eyes, speaking every word with absolute gravity. "I love you. I’ve loved you for a very long time." A very long time. I sneered in my head, but my face showed the perfect blend of shock and girlish shyness. My eyes welled with tears, and I sniffled, looking up at him with a trembling voice. "Julian... I love you too."He blinked in surprise, then let out a relieved, stunning smile. He reached out and gently ruffled my hair. I didn't flinch. I let him do it. I wanted him to feel like everything was going exactly according to his script. I wanted him to believe that Clara was still that same brainless, gullible girl who was so desperate to marry her savior. As his fingers brushed through my hair, I was busy calculating a financial ledger in my head. In our past life, when he drained my family's company, he took away nearly fifty million dollars. My dad’s hard work of over twenty years was completely devoured by him. My mother's inheritance, my father’s life savings, and all the assets under my name—completely wiped out. This life, I was going to take it all back, with heavy interest. Over the next week, I visited the hospital every single day without fail. Julian recovered incredibly fast. In less than two weeks, his stitches were removed, and the doctor said he could be discharged after a few more days of observation. The evening before his discharge, he had one of the nurses help him book a reservation at an upscale Italian restaurant near my university, claiming he wanted to treat me to a nice dinner to thank me for my care. Throughout the dinner, his eyes never left my face. He cut my steak, poured my water, and asked about my likes and dislikes, claiming he wanted to memorize every single detail about me. "Clara, there's something I need to ask you." "What is it?" "I want to marry you." The proposal came a few days earlier than I had anticipated. My fork paused mid-air. I looked up at him, wide-eyed. "What did you say?" I whispered, playing the part of a stunned lover. "I said, I want to marry you." He repeated it, his tone even more solemn as he reached across the table to grasp my hand. "Clara, I know we're still young, but I can't wait anymore. I want you by my side for the rest of my life. Will you marry me?" "Yes... yes, I will!" Tears spilled over my eyelashes, rolling down my cheeks. "Julian, of course I’ll marry you." He smiled warmly, leaning across the table to gently wipe my tears with his thumb. His touch was incredibly soft. But my tears weren't from joy. They were for the Clara of my past life. That twenty-year-old girl, sitting at this exact same table, hearing these exact same words, crying the exact same tears. She had been so genuinely happy, believing she was the luckiest girl in the world, thinking this man would cherish her forever. She had no idea she was signing her own death warrant. It was almost eleven when Julian drove me home. The streetlights near our estate cast a long, stretched shadow of his figure as he stood by the gates, waving goodbye as I walked inside. When I entered the house, my parents were still awake. My dad was sitting on the sofa reading the financial times, and my mom was folding laundry by the patio. I changed into my slippers, walked over, and sat down next to my dad. After a brief hesitation, I spoke up: "Dad, Mom... Julian proposed to me tonight."My dad’s newspaper slipped right out of his hands. My mom bolted from the patio, still holding a half-folded shirt, her voice instantly rising an octave. "What? Proposed? How long have you two even known each other?!" "He saved my life, Mom. If it weren't for him, I’d be dead right now." Those were the exact words I had used in my past life. Back then, the moment I said that, my dad fell silent, and my mom stopped talking too. They couldn't argue with that. In their eyes, Julian really had risked his life to save me. Although marrying him felt impulsive, it wasn't completely illogical given the circumstances. This time, my dad fell silent again. My mom didn't say another word either. But I knew exactly what they were thinking. They didn't like Julian. My dad set his newspaper on the table, took off his reading glasses, and pinched the bridge of his nose, his voice incredibly heavy. "Do you really know him, Clara? Do you know anything about his family background? Have you really thought about whether his intentions are pure?" "I know what you guys are worried about." I leaned over, resting my head against my dad’s shoulder. "But Dad, he literally took a knife for me. How can I not trust a man who was willing to die for me?" My dad let out a long, defeated sigh. My mom stood opposite us, her lips trembling, but she ultimately kept her mouth shut. In my mind, I whispered, I'm so sorry, Dad, Mom. But I had to do this. If I didn't marry Julian, he would never show his true colors, and I would never get the chance to strip away his assets. The only way to drag him down was to lock him in the cage of marriage first, and then destroy him piece by piece. The next morning, I called Julian, my voice bubbling with excitement as I told him my parents had tentatively agreed. On the other end of the line, he let out a joyful laugh, saying that was amazing and that he would immediately have his parents arrange a formal meeting to discuss the engagement. "But Julian..." I suddenly trailed off, making my voice sound incredibly hesitant. "My parents agreed, but... they have one condition." "What condition?" His voice remained gentle, but I caught a subtle edge of guardedness. "My parents said they aren't the type to sell their daughter, but we still have to follow traditional family protocols. They want a pre-nuptial security deposit. A financial pledge of five million dollars." I threw out the number. The line went completely dead for three seconds. In my past life, I hadn't asked for a single penny. Instead, my parents had gifted Julian a massive sum of cash and bought him a luxury penthouse downtown as a "thank you" for saving my life. Back then, I thought it was only fair. He saved me, so my parents treating him like royalty was completely natural. This time, I was going to milk him dry before we even signed the marriage license. "That amount..." Julian’s voice sounded incredibly tight, though he tried his best to maintain his gentle demeanor. "Clara, my business is still in its startup phase. I can't pull that much liquid cash out of thin air right now." "I know," I replied immediately, my tone softening into a whimper. "I told my parents that your family is just middle-class and can't afford that. But my mom said if you can't even show that much financial commitment, you shouldn't marry into our family. She even said something else... but I didn't dare tell you." "What did she say?" "She said... Julian saving me was nice and all, but who knows if he did it on purpose? She said my dad worked half his life to build Vance Enterprises, and they can't just let a random outsider walk away with everything."