Reborn for Revenge: Tearing You to Shreds

The day I go into labor, my husband's student, Yasmin Holden, storms off in a rage. She climbs the mountains alone while heavily pregnant. For the next three days and nights, my husband disappears to look for her. Meanwhile, I suffer a difficult labor and hemorrhage badly. I'm rushed into the ICU. When I finally wake up, the doctor hands my husband a critical condition notice. He hands me divorce papers. "Yasmin is my most promising student. I can't let her do anything foolish. You're about to be a mother, so you need to be strong!" In my last life, I refused to sign. As soon as I left the maternity ward, I reported their affair to the university. Yasmin lost her graduate school recommendation and was torn apart by public scandal. In front of me, she slit her own throat. By the time my husband arrived, Yasmin was already gone—along with the baby. He quietly handled her funeral and said nothing. Then, he returned to me as if nothing had happened. I thought that meant I was finally going to have a happy ending. But one day, he drove our car off a cliff with me and our daughter inside. That day was Yasmin's death anniversary. When I open my eyes again, I'm back on the day I give birth. Chapter 1 "If you don't sign these papers, don't expect to leave this room alive!" I looked in the direction of the voice and saw the man pushing past the doctor to yank off my oxygen mask, shouting at me with venomous intensity. Those bloodshot eyes matched the same murderous gaze from when he tried to die with me in the car. This frighteningly familiar scene was something I would never forget, even if I were reduced to ashes. In my previous life, I had stood my ground until the very end, never backing down. I had used my last ounce of strength to tear those divorce papers to shreds. I had stubbornly held on until after leaving the delivery room when I submitted a formal complaint to the college. That decision was one I regretted for the rest of my life. "I'll sign," I muttered, forcing myself to sit up as I took the documents from Tristan Barnes' hand. Under his suspicious gaze, I scrawled my signature across the divorce papers with shaky handwriting. He snatched the documents back and examined them carefully before he threatened, "Bridget Pearce, you'd better not be playing any tricks! Out of whatever remains of our marriage, I'll arrange for someone to take care of you during your postpartum recovery and cover those expenses, but beyond that…" He tossed the oxygen mask onto my body and hissed, "You won't get a single penny from me!" With that, he left with the papers without looking back. When I was 25, I had ignored my advisor's objections, dropped out of academia, and married the penniless Tristan. After the wedding, I easily secured a position at the college with my impressive credentials and spent my free time publishing countless research papers under Tristan's name. During our five years of marriage, I had helped him become an associate professor with tenure at the college, supporting his rise from having nothing to having everything. Yet, five years of marriage only earned me coverage for postpartum care expenses. I laughed bitterly at the reality. After Tristan left, I was transferred from intensive care to a regular room, and the nurse brought me my daughter, Victoria Pearce. I watched as Victoria struggled to grip my index finger, and this strengthened my resolve to personally change both our fates this time around. Late that night, the howling wind outside made it impossible for me to sleep. I clearly remembered locking the doors and windows, but sudden fear dilated my pupils. I dragged my aching body to the side of the bed only to discover that the crib was empty. Just before falling asleep, Victoria had been sleeping peacefully right there. "Mrs. Barnes, what are you looking for?" I whirled around toward the window, where a woman in a hospital gown with a slightly swollen belly was holding something out toward the open air. Looking closer, I realized with horror that it was Victoria. Chapter 2 A sharp, blinding pain shot through my head, like a rope being pulled tight around my skull. I shouted, "What are you doing? Put her down right now!" The extreme tearing I had suffered during the difficult childbirth, which had required dozens of stitches, sent shooting pain through my lower body. I knew the wound had definitely reopened. However, there was no time to dwell on it. Ignoring the blinding pain, I staggered forward and lunged at Yasmin Holden. Victoria's cries filled the room, piercing and frantic, just as Yasmin let out a shrill scream. Suddenly, the door to my hospital room burst open. Tristan stormed in and crossed the distance in a few quick strides before kicking me aside. He pulled Yasmin into his arms and asked, "Yas, are you okay? Are you hurt? Bridget, I knew it! You agreed to the divorce too easily because you were obviously planning something! So, this is what you've been waiting to do!" I clutched Victoria tightly as Tristan's kick sent us flying several feet. My back slammed hard against the wall, forcing a painful groan from my throat. Meanwhile, the woman in Tristan's protective embrace trembled against his chest, crying while holding her stomach. Yet, her face showed a smug smile directed at me. Yasmin explained between sobs, "Professor Barnes, I got up to use the bathroom in the middle of the night and happened to pass by Mrs. Barnes' room when I heard the baby crying. I thought I shouldn't disturb Mrs. Barnes' rest, so I took it upon myself to come in and help soothe the baby... "But Mrs. Barnes suddenly accused me of ruining her marriage with you and threatened to push me and my baby out the window!" Tristan believed every word Yasmin said and stared at me in utter disbelief. Before I could explain, he scooped Yasmin up in his arms. "I should have known all along—you're completely vicious and cold-hearted! Someone like you doesn't deserve to use my money for postpartum care. You belong on the streets!" With those words, he carried Yasmin out of my hospital room. Victoria continued crying in my arms, but Tristan never once asked about her. Before I could react, a group of security guards burst into the room, restrained me, and threw me out of the hospital. The frigid night air made my wound sting unbearably while Victoria's screams had faded to hoarse, pitiful whimpers. My blood was pooling beneath us, dripping onto the ground beneath me. I had planned to go to the emergency room to have my wound stitched up before figuring out what to do next. However, this private hospital was half-owned by Tristan, and the security guards had already posted my photo at the entrance with large letters stating: "This person is banned from receiving treatment at this facility!" It was still the middle of the night with very few cars passing by, and the rare cabs that did come avoided me when they saw the blood soaking through my clothes. With no other choice, I wrapped myself tightly in my hospital gown and carried Victoria five miles through the dark streets to the nearest public hospital, where they stitched me up again. The morning after the surgery, I sent a resignation email to the college. Then, I dialed a number I knew by heart. "Rowan, about that project you mentioned... I'm in." Chapter 3 After a week of recovery at the hospital, I went to the college with Victoria to handle my resignation paperwork. The college president, Eric Ostell, was still trying to convince me to stay. He asked, "Bridget, why are you suddenly leaving? Is there something about the job that's bothering you?" I smiled and shook my head. "I received an invitation for a project overseas, and I've decided to give it a try." Eric's concerned expression immediately transformed into one of admiration. "So, that's what it is! I knew someone as talented as you would never lack opportunities! Does Professor Barnes know about this big decision?" I smiled and shook my head again. The time wasn't right to discuss what had happened between Tristan and me, so I didn't want to say a single word about it to anyone else. Eric seemed to grasp the situation and broke into a wide smile. "You must be planning a surprise for Professor Barnes! You two have such a sweet relationship! Everyone at the college knows he's completely devoted to his wife. "He always ends his classes promptly at 5:30 pm, saying he needs to rush home to cook dinner for you. Even after five years of marriage, you two still act like newlyweds. It truly makes everyone envious." My hand froze in mid-air as I gathered my documents. Throughout my pregnancy, I had spent virtually every moment alone in our empty house. Whether it was countless prenatal check-ups or my mid-pregnancy depression, I had endured it all by myself. For a long time, Tristan had stopped coming home, let alone cooking meals for me. So, if Tristan had been telling everyone he was cooking for his wife, and that wife wasn't me, who could it possibly be? It wasn't yet time to expose the truth. Hence, I simply smiled and agreed with Eric's comments before finishing packing my things and leaving. I drove Victoria home, but when we arrived at our front door, the passcode I had entered many times before suddenly wouldn't work. Chapter 4 Initially, our home hadn't featured a keypad lock. Five years ago, Tristan and I lived in a rundown apartment that cost just 300 dollars a month to save money for research. One night, after working late at the research lab, I returned home to find someone had forcibly broken into our apartment. Fortunately, Tristan had arrived in time to call the police, preventing a potential disaster. After that incident, he had absolutely refused to let me work late at the lab anymore. In our tiny one-bedroom apartment covered with mold stains, he had held me close and promised that someday he would provide me with a big house protected by the safest keypad lock. Yet now, as our circumstances had improved, the anti-theft lock we had chosen together was being used to keep me out. Just as I was about to leave, the door opened from the inside. A woman stood in the doorway with lingerie barely hanging on her shoulders, a sheer wrap doing little to hide the red marks on her skin. She mumbled, "Can't a person get any sleep around here? It's still so early!" Then, she added, "Oh, it's just you, Mrs. Barnes. Is there something you need? Professor Barnes exhausted himself last night and is still lying in bed. If it's urgent, you can tell me, and I'll pass the message along." Yasmin spoke while proudly displaying her pregnant belly. She even pulled her shawl down a few inches to reveal intimate marks on her skin, completely embodying the role of the lady of the house. In the past, this would have driven me insane with anger. However, I simply ignored her provocations and walked straight into the house. "I'm just here to get my things, then I'll leave," I replied, pushing Victoria's stroller past her into the house. When I reached what had been my bedroom, I discovered that not a single item of mine remained in sight. The bedside tables and walls were now covered with photos of Tristan and Yasmin. The pictures documented them watching the Northern Lights in Glaceheim, chasing dolphins in the ocean, and kissing on a mountaintop before sunrise. Tristan had done all the romantic things couples do with her—things he had never done with me. Instead of feeling hurt, I felt pathetic. During our five years together, I had made the same birthday wish five times. "I hope Tristan can spend more time with me this year." Tristan had always smiled and promised that he would definitely make time to be with me more the following year. Yet, he broke that promise year after year, and I finally understood the truth. It wasn't that he didn't have time—he was just busy spending it with his female student. Chapter 5 Countless baby items were neatly arranged throughout the room, clearly purchased by Tristan for Yasmin and her unborn child. I asked, "Where are the things from my bedroom?" Yasmin put on an innocent expression and replied, "Mrs. Barnes, I'm so sorry. I didn't realize that junk belonged to you. Professor Barnes told me I could do whatever I wanted with the stuff in the house, so I just..." I let out a cold laugh. "How long has it been since I signed those divorce papers? How is this suddenly your home? I paid for half of this house, and even though Tristan and I are divorced, that doesn't make it yours!" I ignored Yasmin's hysterical attempts to stop me and headed upstairs to confront Tristan. When Yasmin realized she couldn't stop me, she tore off her lingerie, slapped herself hard across the face in front of me, and then collapsed to the floor in tears. Tristan quickly heard the commotion upstairs and rushed down without his slippers. He spotted me immediately and roared, "Bridget! What kind of scene are you making now?" He wore only underwear, his upper body covered with visible scratch marks. Yasmin sobbed as she explained, "Professor Barnes, Mrs. Barnes came by but was locked out. I rushed to open the door for her without changing my clothes, but when Mrs. Barnes saw the marks on my body, she seemed to get angry. She kept calling me a shameless woman, tore my clothes, and slapped my face..." Her tears spoke louder than her words. Her damp lashes were fluttering, swift to pry pity from any man. Tristan shouted, "Bridget, don't you realize Yas is pregnant? You've been pregnant yourself—you know how difficult it is! How dare you hit her? If anything happens to her baby, I'll never forgive you!" With that, he gently cupped Yasmin's face and blew on her skin like soothing a child's scraped knee. "There, there, Yas. She just can't stand seeing me treat you well! Don't let her upset you!" I watched the two of them clinging to each other like lovers and could no longer contain myself. "Tristan, look carefully..." I stepped forward to where Yasmin stood, raised my hand, and delivered a full, deliberate slap across her face. A red handprint quickly formed on her cheek, and I declared, "This is what my slap actually looks like!" Yasmin stood frozen in shock, momentarily forgetting to fake-cry. But in the next second, the scene before my eyes blurred with motion. Tristan grabbed my shoulder and threw me onto the living room floor. He pinned me down with his knee and began slapping my face with savage force. He snarled, "Yasmin is my woman! When you slap her face, it's like you're slapping my face!" I whimpered in pain but couldn't fight back under his weight. Blood began flowing from my nose, yet Tristan showed no signs of letting up. "You should really look in a mirror and see what you've become! You don't even look like a woman anymore!" With that, he grabbed a makeup mirror from the living room table and smashed it against my head. In an instant, the mirror shattered, and I caught glimpses of myself in the broken pieces. Due to pregnancy hormones, my face was puffy and my hair disheveled, giving me an unkempt appearance. Soon, I saw blood streaming from my temple, down my chin, and dripping onto the shattered mirror pieces on the floor. The entire house fell silent, with only the sound of my blood hitting the broken mirror fragments. Chapter 6 Tristan instinctively rushed to my side, attempting to help me up. He yelled, "Why didn't you dodge? Don't think I'll feel sorry for you just because you're injured and playing the victim!" He raised his sleeve to wipe the blood from my temple, but it continued to flow out like sand from a punctured bag. I raised my hand and forcefully pushed him away, then braced myself against the floor and struggled toward the door. Tristan was visibly panicked as he shouted after me, "Where do you think you're going? Why are you being so stubborn at a time like this? You need to get that wound treated at a hospital!" He spoke while moving to catch up to me, and just as he was about to grab me, the woman behind him pulled him back and whimpered, "Professor Barnes, my stomach really hurts..." Yasmin collapsed at Tristan's feet, clutching her belly. "Please take me to the hospital. I don't want anything to happen to our baby..." Tristan only hesitated for a few seconds before he carried Yasmin up and rushed past me. He shouted, "Yas is at a critical stage in her pregnancy, so I have to prioritize her! Make sure you go to the hospital to get that wound dressed! "Don't make me worry! I'll find you as soon as I take care of this!" Soon, they both disappeared from my sight. I pushed Victoria's stroller to the roadside and hailed a cab. "To the National Academy of Sciences." The driver handed me some tissues after noticing my wound and studied me through the rearview mirror. "Miss, why are you going to the Academy instead of a hospital with that injury? Not just anyone can get in there." I gazed out the window as the warm air blew through the crack, then replied calmly, "That's my home." ... Upon arriving at the Academy, I passed through multiple security checkpoints with facial recognition and took the elevator to the top floor. I knocked on the door of the last office in the hallway and entered. "Rowan, I'm back," I announced. Rowan Baldwin, the middle-aged man behind the desk, stood up and walked toward me. He reached out to place his hand on my shoulder, but stopped mid-air when he noticed the wound on my temple. He asked, "Did he do this?" I didn't reply, but my silence was answer enough. Rowan sighed heavily before turning to retrieve a document envelope from his drawer. He explained, "I've already arranged everything for the project you mentioned, and my wife, Melanie, has set everything up for you on the other end. Your plane ticket is in the envelope, but..." He glanced at Victoria, who was sleeping peacefully in her stroller, and gently caressed her face. "Why won't you let me deal with that punk? Are you still in love with him?" I took out the plane ticket from the envelope. In five hours, I would leave this country and begin a new life. I replied, "No. Rowan, you've got it wrong. I'll use my own methods to ensure he never recovers from what's coming."