His Last Regret, My New Life

Name: His Last Regret, My New Life
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Gavin

Short stories | Completed

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The grand hall of the Thompson estate. The scent of expensive flowers and a decade of my family' s fading name. Tonight, I, Sarah Miller, was the offering, a supposed "lucky charm" to merge our dying empire with the titans of the Thompson Corporation. But the truth was, I was just a broodmare, chosen to birth their legacy, just like in my first life. The memory wasn' t a dream; it was a brand etched into my soul. The cold concrete floor, the smell of dust and ozone. I was tied to a chair, my body weak from giving birth to my three children. Across the room, David, the man I was forced to marry, stood over three small, still forms on a steel table. "The offerings are ready," a scientist said, his voice flat. "The biological processors will give the AI an unparalleled learning curve." Biological processors. Offerings. No. I screamed, a ragged sound. "David, no! Please, not our children!" He grabbed my hair, back. "Our children? You manipulative witch! You tricked my mother into making me have these... abominations with you!" He gestured to a photo: Olivia Reed, "My Love." "You ruined everything! She was pregnant with my true heir! But you and your cursed luck forced my hand." He forced a bitter liquid down my throat. My world went black. And then, I woke up. Back in the Thompson' s grand hall, the scent of flowers choking me. Mrs. Thompson held my hand. David stood beside her, his eyes holding the same cold hatred. We were back. The day of our forced engagement. Before the nightmare could begin again, I pulled my hand from Mrs. Thompson' s grasp. My voice small, unsteady, I said, "Mrs. Thompson... I can' t accept." This time, he wanted Olivia. He believed her child was his key to power. I would hand him the shovel and watch him dig his own grave.

Revenge Pregnancy CEO Rebirth/Reborn Drama

Chapter 10

07-04 13:52

Introduction

But the truth was, I was just a broodmare, chosen to birth their legacy, just like in my first life.

The memory wasn' t a dream; it was a brand etched into my soul. The cold concrete floor, the smell of dust and ozone. I was tied to a chair, my body weak from giving birth to my three children.

Across the room, David, the man I was forced to marry, stood over three small, still forms on a steel table. "The offerings are ready," a scientist said, his voice flat. "The biological processors will give the AI an unparalleled learning curve."

Biological processors. Offerings. No.

I screamed, a ragged sound. "David, no! Please, not our children!"

He grabbed my hair, back. "Our children? You manipulative witch! You tricked my mother into making me have these... abominations with you!" He gestured to a photo: Olivia Reed, "My Love." "You ruined everything! She was pregnant with my true heir! But you and your cursed luck forced my hand."

He forced a bitter liquid down my throat. My world went black.

And then, I woke up.

Back in the Thompson' s grand hall, the scent of flowers choking me. Mrs. Thompson held my hand. David stood beside her, his eyes holding the same cold hatred.

We were back. The day of our forced engagement.

Before the nightmare could begin again, I pulled my hand from Mrs. Thompson' s grasp. My voice small, unsteady, I said, "Mrs. Thompson... I can' t accept."

This time, he wanted Olivia. He believed her child was his key to power. I would hand him the shovel and watch him dig his own grave.