His Biggest Mistake Was Giving Me Away

Preston Brown, my boyfriend, was determined to claim his family's fortune. So, he arranged for his best friend to sleep with me, just to get an heir.

…

When I opened my eyes, I saw Preston handing the scarf I had spent a week knitting to Rowan Kerr again.

"This suits you better," he said casually. "Go ahead and keep it."

We were at a party, and Rowan had just gotten off a long flight.

His face showed faint traces of exhaustion. Still, it did nothing to soften the sharp lines of his face or the way his black suit hugged his frame. He radiated the quiet confidence of a man in his prime.

At that moment, Rowan gently swirled the glass of champagne in his hand, his gaze dark and unreadable.

"Preston, I made that for you," I commented with a frown.

To my surprise, Preston didn't even try to hide his indifference. His voice turned sharp as he shot back, "It's just a scarf. Rowan and I have been best friends since we were kids. We don't draw lines. What's the big deal if I give it to him?"

Those were the exact words he had said in my past life. In that instant, everything clicked. I had been reborn.

In my past life, Preston had lost the ability to have children after an accident. But he needed an heir to strengthen his claim in the family inheritance battle. So, he didn't think twice before sending me to Rowan's bed.

Later, I got pregnant. And with that, Preston gained full control of his family's shares.

Just when I thought we could finally be a real family, he locked me and the baby in a basement. There, we endured inhumane treatment every single day.

Eventually, I couldn't take it anymore. I begged him to take us to the hospital.

But on the way, we were ambushed. The crash had been orchestrated by Preston's mistress, Naomi Tate.

As I drifted in and out of consciousness, I could faintly hear her voice. That was when the truth hit me—my child was Rowan's.

All those years I had spent loving Preston had been for nothing. Regret crashed over me, and tears slipped down my face.

Right then, Rowan ran his fingers lightly over the scarf before wrapping it around his neck. A beat later, he turned to me with a smile.

"It really does suit me. It's warm and comfortable, too."

Suddenly, the memory of the car crash in my past life came rushing back.

I remembered how, as my vision began to blur, he had rushed into the wreckage without hesitation. He held me tightly and tried to pull me free.

"Don't be afraid, Yolanda. I'm getting you out of here," he had said.

However, my legs were completely pinned, and gasoline was seeping toward the flames.

In the final seconds before the explosion, Rowan threw himself over me, shielding me with his body as the flames engulfed him.

With what little strength he had left, he whispered, "Yolanda, I thought I'd never get the chance to say this, but… I love you."

The memory sent a dull ache through my chest.

A smile tugged at my lips as I replied, "It really does suit you. If you like it, I can knit you a sweater to match."

The moment the words left my mouth, everyone—including Preston and Rowan—turned to look at me with surprise.

Preston, in particular, took a sip of his drink to hide the irritation in his eyes.