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They called her "mad." The woman who once ruled Zhou's halls with laughter and grace now sat hollow in a white cell. Rose Sallow had lost everything. Her inheritance. Her child... her little boy, whose last breath faded against her trembling arms after the poison took hold. Her husband, Duke Sallow, once sworn to never leave her, now stood beside another. Lisa Zhou. Her cousin. Her sister in all but blood Now the new "Madam Sallow." She was carrying Duke’s child, the 'heir' he publicly acknowledged as his first child, and Rose's son’s name was erased from the family records. In the mental hospital room, she laughed when they handed her the divorce papers. That night, Rose decided to end it all. But fate, cruel, capricious fate, had other plans. When her eyes fluttered open, she didn’t find herself among the angels. She was staring at her reflection in a golden mirror, and on the bed behind her was her wedding gown. It was her wedding day. A chance to change it all. To rewrite fate. But as she rose from the bed, a shiver crawled down her spine. There, on the vanity, a note written in red... "Congrats... You have been granted a second chance." Then came the knock. Three slow, deliberate taps on the door. She froze. “Lady Rose?” a deep voice called. It wasn’t Duke’s voice. Softer, steadier, yet commanding. “Forgive the intrusion, but… I couldn’t wait any longer.” She opened the door. Standing there was a man she had never seen before. He bowed slightly, eyes dark as midnight. “Marry me,” he said simply. In her first life, this had never happened. No mysterious man. No interruption. No warning. Why now?
View MoreChapter 1
Before her Rebirth
As the gentle wind brushed her face, Rose stirred awake, a strange heaviness pressing against her chest, that quiet, primal instinct that only mothers know. Something wasn’t right.
She sat up slowly, her bare feet resting on the cold marble floor as she reached for her robe. The hallway beyond her bedroom door was lit, the faint sound of ticking clocks echoing through the mansion.
Minutes later, her fingers trembled as she pushed open the door to her son’s room.
“Eli?” she whispered.
The little nightlight shaped like a swan glowed dimly by his bedside, casting a soft golden light across his tiny form.
He lay there, tangled in his blankets, his small chest rising too fast.Rose’s heart stilled.
She moved closer, her voice breaking into a trembling whisper. “Sweetheart…?”
Her hand brushed against his cheek, and the world stopped.
He was burning.
Her son’s skin felt like fire under her touch. His lashes fluttered weakly, a faint whimper escaping his lips as his small hands clenched the sheets.
“Eli!” Rose gasped, pressing her palm to his forehead again, her own body shaking. “Oh my God... Eli, look at me, baby, look at me.”
She stumbled for the bell pull, tugging it hard until she heard the faint chime echo down the hall. But no footsteps came. No maids rushed. The house felt hollow. Empty.
“Where is everyone?” she muttered, voice cracking.
With trembling fingers, she reached for the phone beside his bed, dialing the family doctor’s number.
It rang once. Twice. Three times.Finally, a voice answered. “Lady Sallow?”
“Doctor Han... thank God. It’s Eli... he’s burning up, his breathing is shallow... he won’t wake up!”
There was a rustle of papers, the doctor’s calm, practiced tone seeping through the line. “Stay with him, my lady. I’ll be on my way. Do not move him or call an ambulance yet... I need to analyze him first. It may be an allergic reaction-"
“An allergic? No! This isn’t just... just come quickly, please!”
“I’m on my way. Ten minutes,” he said.
The line went dead.
Ten minutes.
Rose stared at her son’s small frame, the sweat clinging to his hairline, the way his lips had turned pale. Ten minutes felt like an eternity.
She needed Duke.
He’d know what to do. He always did.Her shaking fingers found his number and pressed the call button.
Ring.
Ring. Ring.“Pick up,” she whispered desperately. “Please, Duke... pick up!”
And then, finally...
A click.But it wasn’t his voice.
“Hello?” a woman’s voice purred on the other end, smooth, lazy, unmistakable.
Rose froze. Her mind went blank.
“Who-who is this?” she asked softly, though she already knew.
There was a pause. And then, that light, mocking laugh she had heard a thousand times at family dinners.
"Oh, Rose… really? You don’t recognize your own cousin’s voice? How heartbreaking.”
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The warmth of Lisa’s hand lingered on Rose’s arm, too soft, too familiar, and Rose forced out a gentle laugh as the tension grew, masking the tremor in her chest. Then, with deliberate grace, she slipped free of Lisa’s touch.“Shameless?” she echoed, tilting her head, lashes lowering. The pounding behind her eyes dulled just enough for her to breathe. “Oh, Lisa, I am shameless because-”She smiled faintly, the kind of coy, harmless smile that women wore in paintings. “I just wish it had been Duke who brought the flowers himself. You know how I am… I can never get enough of my man.”The words floated softly, light, glittering, and cruelly careless.Lisa blinked, her lashes fluttering once before she found her mask again. Then came that soft, pearly laugh, the one she’d perfected since they were girls.“You always were greedy for affection,” she purred, brushing invisible dust off her sleeve.But her thoughts slammed through Rose’s mind like shards of glass.‘Greedy little slut. You thi
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Speechless, Rose’s hand still clutched the doorframe, her pulse racing as she stared at the stranger standing before her.“Marry me,” he had said, voice steady, eyes dark as obsidian.It should’ve been laughable. A stranger, here, in her private quarters on her wedding morning, asking for something that made no sense.Her lips parted to speak, to demand who he was, but before the question could form, the familiar rhythm of heels clicking down the hall echoed through the air.'Lisa,' Rose thought.And just like that, the fragile tension in Rose’s chest snapped into irritation.Because she remembered... God, she recalled what came next.The roses.Twelve perfect crimson blooms arranged in a crystal vase, one for every month Duke had courted her.A year of promises. A year of sweet words and subtle manipulation.She remembered the way her heart had swelled when she’d first seen them in her past life. The way she had believed that every petal was a symbol of his love, his devotion, his si
Last Updated : 2025-11-09Mr. Wilder wife is a madwoman A Second chance
“Eli!”Rose screamed his name, voice splitting through the air.Her body jolted upright, lungs convulsing as though dragged from underwater. Her fingers clawed at her chest, the air too thin, her pulse thunderous in her ears. Tears burned down her cheeks before she even realized she was awake.“My baby…” she gasped between breaths, chest rising and falling erratically. “My baby… Eli…”The words were broken, whispered through a throat still raw from death. Her fingers clutched at the place above her heart as though she could hold him there, keep him from fading.But the silence that followed was whole, thick, suffocating.Her eyes fluttered open, blurry, unfocused at first, until the world began to form around her.And what she saw left her speechless.The mattress beneath her wasn’t the narrow cot of the ward. It was soft, too soft, cushioning her trembling body. The silk sheet brushed against her skin, cool and gentle, smelling faintly of rosewater and fresh linen.She blinked, once,
Last Updated : 2025-11-08Mr. Wilder wife is a madwoman Ten minutes
When Rose returned to her room, the corridor felt longer than before.Each step echoed against the floor like footsteps leading her back through time.The nurse had said something to her, something soft and polite, but Rose didn’t hear it. She was too aware of the weight in her hands: the DNA results and the glass bottle hiddened between it pages in the folder.When the door clicked shut behind her, silence folded over the room again.The air felt heavier than it had that morning. The scent of bleach was stronger now, sharper, as though the place had sensed what she carried and braced itself.Rose sat down on the edge of her bed. The thin mattress sank under her, and for a moment, she just stared at the floor.Her fingers shook when she uncurled them. The papers slipped onto the blanket beside her, pages whispering as they settled.Her eyes found the name first.Eli Zhou.Not Sallow.Not a single trace of Duke.She read it again, even though the letters blurred through the film of te
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The air in the visiting room still trembled with what hadn’t been said.Duke’s lips parted, and for once, there was no careful script in his voice, no performance of reason or restraint. Just a man cracking open under the weight of what he’d done.“Rose…” His throat tightened. “I’m sorry.”Rose froze. Then, slowly, she turned her head toward him.Her eyes, flat, bruised with sleeplessness, lifted just enough to meet his.And she scoffed.“No, you’re not.”The words slid out like a cold wind, smooth and cutting.Duke flinched again, his shoulders curling in shame.Before he could speak, Lisa’s hand brushed his arm. Her tone dripped with saccharine impatience.“Honey, hurry up,” she murmured, voice soft but loud enough to sting. “I’m feeling sick, and you know this type of place isn’t healthy for our baby.”The world seemed to pause.Rose didn’t react. Not a twitch. Not a blink.She simply turned, the urn pressed close to her chest, and walked out. The sound of her shoes echoed softly a
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The psychiatric ward smelled like bleach and old air, sterile, suffocating. It wasn’t white, though. White would have meant clean. The walls were a kind of beige-gray.Rose lay on her back on the narrow bed. The ceiling tiles blurred together when she stared long enough. She didn’t cry anymore. Her throat didn’t have anything left to bleed out.Her wrists were wrapped in bandages, thin layers of gauze covering the angry red cuts where the restraints had bitten through her skin. The antiseptic stung. But pain was fine. Pain was real. Pain meant she hadn’t dreamed the last three weeks.Her baby was still gone.Eli.The name existed in her chest now as something hollow and distant, echoing like wind through a house that had once been filled with warmth.She blinked, slowly, like someone wading through heavy water, when she heard the door unlock.The nurse stepped inside. Younger woman, soft brown eyes.“Miss Zhou,” the nurse said quietly. She never called Rose “Mrs. Sallow.” Perhaps some
Last Updated : 2025-11-07
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