All Chapters of Reborn Ice Age : My Ex-husband Wants Me Back: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

My day was already planned out. I had planned to visit my father, Frederick Winslet.I served breakfast very early at the dining table before Alexander headed out. For three years, I had been nothing but a tool for Alexander to toss aside and cheat on.I adjusted my dress in the mirror, watching my reflection with steady, unblinking eyes.My face was no longer pale from the morning sickness that would have plagued me in my past life a week from today. I had changed that timeline completely, and with it, my destiny.I was no longer the fragile, desperate woman who cried over his mother's endless humiliations or begged for a single crumb of affection.I had laid out the hot plates on the huge mahogany dining table before Alexander headed out. Everything had to look completely normal, completely unsuspicious.If I showed even a sliver of defiance too soon, I would be locked away again for being too demanding and annoying.Three long years, I had been a tool for Alexander Hamilton to toss

I had just finished making scrambled eggs for myself for dinner in my newly rented space, a secluded, unpretentious apartment located miles away from the Hamilton villa, in a place where even Alex wouldn't be able to locate me.Standing alone in the quiet kitchen, holding a plate of warm food that I didn't have to share or seek approval for, a strange, quiet sensation washed over me. For three agonizing years, my evenings had been defined by walking on eggshells. I remembered how Alexander used to inspect the dining table with a cold, critical eye, complaining if the soup was a fraction too cool or if I looked too tired to entertain his snobbish friends. I remembered his mother's sharp, condescending remarks, reminding me daily that a "countryside stray" should be grateful just to sit at their table. They forgot how I had helped Alexander build his company when it was almost crumbling under so much debt, with no investors willing to help.None of that mattered anymore.The quiet in th

The restaurant was bathed in warm, golden chandelier light, smelling faintly of truffles, aged wine, and effortless luxury. It was the kind of upscale establishment where society elites gathered to flaunt their status, laughing over white-clothed tables while the city outside hummed with oblivious routine.Alexander sat near the center of the dining room, a crystal glass of red wine catching the light as he raised it toward Stephanie.He was celebrating.Celebrating his "freedom" from a marriage he viewed as a burden, celebrating the clean break from a woman he thought he had completely crushed. Stephanie sat across from him, draped in a designer silk dress that cost more than a month's groceries for an average family, her laughter ringing out clear and sharp to draw the attention of nearby tables."To new beginnings, Alex," Stephanie purred, her fingers brushing against his across the table. "And to finally clearing out the dead weight."Alexander smiled, leaning in to clink his glas

The notification from my burner phone broke the silence inside the empty warehouse.I already knew what it was before I picked it up. The Winslet family's elite group chat was flooded with unread messages, one after another.It had started with a batch of high-resolution photos sent from an unknown number. The private investigator Alexander had hired to follow me had done his job. In the pictures, I stood alone beside towering pallets of supplies, surrounded by sacks of cheap flour and piles of canned beans.The chat quickly filled with cruel jokes, laughing emojis, and insulting memes."Good God, look at her," my aunt typed, followed by a string of laughing emojis. "Is she opening a shelter for stray dogs, or is she preparing to hibernate like a bear?""More like she's stocking a nuclear bunker because she got kicked out onto the street with nothing," one of my cousins replied. "What an embarrassment to the Winslet name. Imagine falling this far."My phone vibrated again. This time,

​My boots hit the concrete floor of Zenith Pharmaceutical Supply with a steady, unhurried rhythm. In my past life, when the global cataclysm hit and temperatures plunged sixty degrees below zero within hours, simple cuts, minor respiratory infections, and basic surgical complications killed millions faster than starvation ever could. Food kept a body alive day to day, but medicine bought the precious time necessary to survive an emergency.​The main reception floor was quiet, smelling of isopropyl alcohol and dry paper. Behind the counter, a clerk flicked through her phone, completely oblivious to the impending collapse.​"I need to speak directly with your primary sales director," I said, placing my plain black leather folder flat on the glass. "I am placing a direct, bulk commercial order."​Ten minutes later, I was ushered into an office on the upper floor. Sitting behind a steel desk covered in shipping manifests was a sharp-featured man with receded gray hair and cold, calculatin