Save it, Mr Arrogant! I Dumped You After Reborn.

Evelyn POV

On my wedding day, my husband abandoned me to marry his childhood sweetheart, while I was tortured to death.

***

Today was supposed to be the best day of my life. Instead, I was bound and bleeding in a warehouse, watching through a grimy window as Adrian Whitmore married the woman I'd spent three years trying to become.

Thwack!

The kidnapper's hand struck across my face, sending stars dancing across my vision.

"Worthless thing," he snarled, grabbing my hair. "Can't believe he won't even pay a measly million-dollar ransom. Should never have listened to that woman and taken this job."

Dazed and terrified, I struggled to make sense of what was happening. Today was supposed to be my wedding day—the day I finally became Mrs Evelyn Whitmore after three years of devotion, three years of moulding myself into the perfect wife for him.

"Please," I whispered, my voice cracking. "I'm Adrian Whitmore’s wife. Call him again. He'll pay anything to get me back. I know he will."

The kidnapper laughed, jerking my face up to meet his cold gaze.

"Wife? You're delusional.” He crouched in front of me, close enough that I could smell cigarette smoke on his breath. “You’re not Adrian’s wife, sweetheart. You’re the toy he got bored with. Adrian married Isabella Clarke today. Their wedding photos are all over the internet.”

“That’s no true,” I shook my head.

“You think?” he scoffed again and pulled out his phone, which he shoved in my face.

The screen blurred. I blinked several times before my vision cleared and the image sharpened.

Adrian was in a perfectly tailored black tuxedo, standing at an altar, smiling warmly with his arm around Isabella, who was draped in white, flowing lace and smiling brightly.

The caption read: Adrian Whitmore and Isabella Clarke tie the knot in a fairytale wedding.

All the blood in my body seemed to flow backwards.

"No—it's a lie!" My voice cracked. “Those photos are fake. Today is my wedding day. Adrian is looking for me right now. He would never do this to me.”  

I'd waited for hours in my wedding dress, adjusting my veil, checking my makeup, my heart fluttering with anticipation. Even now, with my wrists bound and my face throbbing, I was certain Adrian was out there searching for me.

“Won’t believe it until you see it with your own eyes, huh?” The kidnapper scoffed and grabbed my arm, hauling me upright. “Fine. I’ll show you.”

He tightened his hold on my arm and dragged me across the room and down the corridor.  I screamed, yanking against his grip until my shoulder popped.

"Adrian's coming for me! He loves me, HE LOVES ME—"

"Shut up, you fool.”

When we got to the end of the corridor, he kicked open a door and shoved me into a small room with a single window. He yanked the curtains open, and dust motes danced in the late afternoon sunlight. In the distance, I could hear wedding music playing.

He slammed my face against the glass. "See for yourself."

I looked up, and my entire world collapsed.

Through the cracked window, the Grand Ballroom of the Whitmore Hotel glowed in the distance. White flowers cascaded from every surface. Elegantly dressed guests filled the seats. Security guards in black suits lined the perimeter—the kind of protection only the Whitmore family could afford.

Only from this high-angle view could I see everything.

And there was he was. Adrian. Standing at the altar, tall and devastatingly handsome, with that same cold, beautiful face I had loved for three years. Except he wasn’t cold today. He was smiling. The genuine, warm smile I'd spent three years begging for and never once received.

"Adrian!" I gasped, pressing my palms flat against the glass. "That's my wedding,” I choked out, pressing closer to the glass. “That’s supposed to be —"

Then the bride turned, and the words died in my throat.

Isabella.

Heart-shaped face. Doe eyes. That perfect rosebud mouth I'd spent countless hours trying to recreate with lipstick and gloss.

White dress. White Veil. White bouquet. Standing exactly where I was supposed to stand, looking up at the man I had given everything to.

I slammed my fists against the window. “No! No, that’s my wedding! Adrian! ADRIAN!”

Nobody heard me. Nobody even looked up.

The kidnapper watched me with something between pity and disgust. “Still won’t accept it? Fine.” He pulled out his phone again, dialling. “Let’s hear it from the man himself. Let’s hear what your precious Adrian really thinks of you.”

"Yes," I whispered, hope sparking in my chest. "Call him. He'll come."

It took a long time for Adrian to pick up. When he did, his voice was flat.

"What?" He sounded annoyed. Like a man interrupted during something important—which, I realised with a sickening twist, he was. He was getting married to someone else.

"I have Evelyn Bennett," the kidnapper said. "One million dollars or she dies. Last chance."

Silence reigned for at least five seconds.

He's tracing the call, I told myself. He's signalling his security team. He's coming—

Then Adrian snorted.

"I thought I made myself clear the first time. That dirty woman means nothing to me. Stop wasting my time with these ridiculous calls."

That dirty woman.

My knees buckled. I have been devoted to this man for three years. I wore what he liked. I cooked what he liked. I studied his business reports to help his company. I took care of his mother like she was my own. If Adrian told me to jump, I wouldn’t have asked how high —I would have already been in the air.

And I meant nothing.

“Please,” I whispered toward the phone, even though I knew he couldn’t hear me. “Adrian, please. I never—”

“Go play your tricks elsewhere,” Adrian continued, his tone clipped with irritation. “Even if Evelyn dies, it doesn’t matter. Don’t delay my wedding with my wife.”

He cursed something about bad luck. Then the line went dead.

I collapsed.

My legs gave out, and I crumbled to the floor like something boneless. The whole city knew the truth I'd refused to see—that I was just Isabella's placeholder.

Under my stepmother Victoria's pressure, I'd learned to dress like Isabella, abandoned my own career, and reshaped my entire identity into someone else's mould. I thought I could warm Adrian's heart. I thought if I just loved him hard enough, long enough, completely enough, he would eventually see me.

All I'd been doing was helping Isabella prepare for her wedding day.

The kidnapper snarled and grabbed my neck, fingers digging in. "Damn it! That bitch Isabella said if I kidnapped you, Adrian would definitely pay!"

The world stopped.

“What…what did you say?”

“Isabella! She set this whole thing up.”

Isabella hadn't just stolen my man. She hadn't just stolen my wedding.

She wanted me dead.

Something shattered inside me. My blood turned to ice. My body trembled so violently I couldn’t control it.

I had only loved Adrian. I had never wanted to provoke anyone. I had never hurt a single soul.

And this is what I got—discarded by the man I loved and murdered by the woman he chose.

"Why?" I choked out as tears flooded down my cheeks. "What did I ever do wrong?"

The kidnapper's grip tightened. Instinct kicked in and I clawed at his fingers, but he slammed me against the glass. Through blurred vision, I watched Adrian slide a ring onto Isabella's finger.

Even dying, I was watching him marry someone else.

Bang!

Fireworks exploded across the sky as Adrian and Isabella kissed, sealing their union while my life bled away.

As my vision darkened at the edges, I tried to ask one last question—whether Adrian had been part of it too—but no sound came out.

The last thing I saw before the darkness swallowed me was my reflection in the glass. Hair styled like Isabella's, makeup mimicking her features, posture adjusted to match her grace. A woman who had erased herself so completely that even in death, she was wearing someone else’s face.

If I could live again, I thought, I would be myself. I would stay far away from Adrian Whitmore. And I would never, ever love him.

Then—darkness.

***

"—can't believe she actually jumped in! She can't even swim!"

"How shameless can one person be? Just because Adrian threw the ring, she dove in after it?"

"Evelyn is Adrian's little lapdog. Forget jumping into water—if Adrian told her to dance naked in front of us, she'd do it without blinking!"

Laughter. Cruel, ringing laughter pressing in from every direction.

My lungs burned. Water filled my mouth. Panic seized my chest.

Instinct took over. I thrashed upward, broke through the surface, gasping, choking and dragging in air like I’d been drowning for a lifetime.  

I blinked hard, looking around..

I was in a swimming pool. My formal dress clung to my body like a second skin, completely drenched. Around the pool's edge, men and women in cocktail attire stared down at me, drinks in hand, watching me like entertainment.

I knew this pool. I knew these people. I knew this night.

This was the engagement party— my engagement party with Adrian.

Three years ago.

This was impossible.

But I remembered dying. I remembered the kidnapper's hands around my throat. I remembered Adrian’s cold voice. And the ring I was clutching in my fist—the one I'd apparently just dove into a pool to retrieve—was the engagement ring Adrian had thrown away in a fit of contempt.

An act I remembered with agonising clarity because I had lived this night before.

My hands trembled beneath the water.

I had been reborn.