My Billionaire Husband Killed Me, I Came Back As His Enemy

I am supposed to be dead.

Dead as in six feet in the ground, buried with all my ancestors who failed to make me generational wealth.

Instead, I am lying in my bed, looking around like I am dreaming—because hell, it seems like I am. I mean, I was stabbed in the stomach…

That’s right… I sit up quickly, throwing the sheets away from my body and running towards the mirror, looking for any stab wound, pain, or a bandaged stomach, but there’s none.

And worst of all, I am in my childhood bedroom.

The fuck?

My door opens just then, revealing my mom, who is beaming with pride and joy. “Oh dear, you’re awake early for your big day.”

I blink in confusion. “What big day?”

She gives me a look and walks further in, shutting the door and sitting on my bed. “Look at the bright side, baby. He’s rich, he’s handsome… he’s what every woman wants. Leigh Gilford is going to be the perfect husband.”

Holy mother of fucking fuck.

It’s my wedding day.

But how? Was I reborn? That shit only happens in movies and books.

Or maybe getting stabbed and being married all along was all a dream because I didn’t want today to happen?

But no… the memories pouring in are too vivid to be a dream.

I am getting married to Leigh Gilford today, and the only reason he would marry a lowlife like me was simply because his parents got word of a new technology I was trying to patent when I was seventeen.

It was for a science competition of which I won the $3,000 prize for first place, and prospective investors started pouring in. I mean the thing about certain codes is that, you don’t always just need a code, you need to build certain systems.

I would not sell to him or anyone because I had plans of my own—make good money, build what I needed for it to be actualized as it was a theoretical thing—so his parents went to meet my parents as they had my power of attorney to get them to sign a contract, which they stupidly didn’t read well.

And now I am twenty-two, have tried to run away twice but failed. So here I am, about to marry a guy I’ve only met once who refuses to look me in the eye because I am trash to him. His family has taken my technology and patented it, offering me “marriage” like it can do anything for me. They said it had flaws—of course it did, I was seventeen—and they had the best engineers to make it run properly.

And here is the thing, they didn’t want to seem like a corporate shark who bought it and pushed me off my own project, so they spun a story to the public of how they were so interested in it and then their son heard of a genius girl and wanted to meet me and somehow while they worked with me, he could not help but fall in love.

The dude wouldn’t even look at me!

My mom had said it was a good deal, that it paid my college tuition, gave me a good life and ensured I never lacked anything, paid off their debt…

But the money they made off it was probably a hundred times more.

I can’t fight it. The only thing I can wish for is that I was eighteen when I coded it, then none of this would have ever happened.

Another reason these assholes wanted me in the family was to help whenever there was some glitch or anything their engineers could not get so well. I’d been working for them under the carpet since then.

“You are going to be moving to the life everyone wishes they had.”

“I know, Mom,” I grin. “I am so fucking excited.”

She looks at me once, then twice, as if I have gone mad. I know it’s strange for her as I have always fought it.

“Honey… you ran away twice… are you sure you’re—”

“Was just messing with you,” I say, still keeping the grin plastered across my face. “Who would not want to marry Leigh? Is the driver here yet?”

She nods energetically while I fight the urge to roll my eyes as I pick out a simple dress and shoes to walk downstairs in. If I remember correctly, we were driven to a mansion gotten for my parents where stylists were waiting to doll me up.

>•<•>•<

I stare at myself in the mirror.

Twenty-two… and alive.

I look almost the same as the makeup artists had only accentuated my features instead of making me look unrecognizable. My hair has been put into an elaborate bun with flowers all over it.

The dress is tight, squeezing up all my insides, pushing my boobs up to my face. My collarbone is barely visible and I just feel… fat. Too fat.

My hands slowly curl into fists as I realize it doesn’t matter anyways.

Three years from now, these same hands will be cold.

I remember that much.

I remember the blood, the pain… I vividly remember lying on the floor crying with one hand pressed against my stomach while blood soaked through my fingers.

And most of all, I remember Leigh and the way he had looked at me without a single ounce of regret or hesitation as he plunged the knife into me. There was nothing but a look of indifference.

I hadn't even seen it coming as Leigh and I had somehow settled into this very comfortable husband and wife routine. He was civil to me for the most part and at some point I might have deluded myself into thinking he was falling for me, that he was able to look past my weight… look past the fact that I didn’t fit into the mold of how billionaire wives were supposed to look like.

Apparently, I was an idiot.

“Baby?”

I turn around to see my mom standing at the doorway.

“Are you coming?”

I plaster the smile back onto my face. “Of course.”

I climb into the back seat, keeping my face turned toward the window as my mother talks excitedly about the wedding.

I barely hear her as my mind is somewhere else—on Leigh fucking Gilford.

The name alone makes me want to throw up to be honest. In my previous life, I spent years trying to make that man love me because that was basically the only way I could make the marriage seem more tolerable and forget about my patent.

What an idiot I was.

I thought if I became a good wife, he would eventually see me as more than a useless girl who had been forced into his family because apparently, he was not interested in the marriage and wanted to acquire the patent in the right way. With my consent, where I was paid for it rightly.

I even took the blame when his family accused me of ruining things.

And what did I get?

A knife in my stomach.

I almost laugh because of how ridiculous the whole thing is.

The rest of the drive passes in a blur, and soon enough I am standing at the altar opposite a man who is unforgivably handsome.

Fuck me.

“Do you, Stephanie Thorpe, take Leigh Gilford to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

I remember hesitating in my past life.

I remember looking at him and wondering if I was making the biggest mistake of my life—and considering the fact that this motherfucker stabbed me, I was making a mistake.

“I do.”

This time, I don’t hesitate though as I am very certain that I want to marry Leigh Gilford.

Just not for the reason he or anyone thinks.

I turn to look at him but he doesn’t even glance at me.

My lips curl into a smile as this bastard has no idea what’s coming.

I am going to take it all back.