Rebirth: The New Bride Wants A Divorce-Chapter 411: Do you believe in past lives?

[Past Life]

"What is all this?" Daniel roared, his voice ripping through the room like a gunshot. "What are you doing on my bed?"

Kathrine flinched violently.

She clutched the sheet tighter around her bare shoulders, fingers trembling as though the fabric were the only thing keeping her from falling apart. Her hair lay in tangled waves across her pale face, mascara faintly smudged beneath wide, glassy eyes that shimmered with something dangerously close to fear.

Daniel stood frozen at the foot of the bed.

Rage thundered through him, hot and merciless—but beneath it lurked something far worse. Confusion. Raw, suffocating confusion. His heart slammed violently against his ribs, each beat echoing in his skull until his head throbbed as though it were being split open from the inside.

Nothing felt right.

His gaze dropped unwillingly to the sheets—rumpled, disturbed. The faint scent of perfume clung to the air, sweet and unmistakably feminine. His stomach churned as the room spun, forcing him to grip the edge of the dresser for balance.

"What the hell happened?" he muttered, more to himself than to her.

"You... you don’t remember?" Kathrine asked softly.

Her voice cut through the chaos in his head.

Daniel looked up sharply, eyes locking onto hers. There was no accusation in her tone. No triumph. Only quiet disbelief—and it unsettled him more than any scream ever could.

Fragments flickered through his mind.

Alcohol. Too much of it. Glass after glass, the burn doing nothing to numb the crushing weight in his chest. The loneliness. The anger. The ache he refused to name.

Anna.

Just the thought tightened his throat.

He remembered drinking because he missed her. Because ignoring her for days hadn’t erased the truth between them. He had convinced himself distance would dull everything—that if he stayed away long enough, the guilt would fade.

It hadn’t. Nothing was the same anymore.

Once, whenever he returned home, Anna’s hopeful gaze had been the first thing to greet him. Soft. Trusting. Completely unaware of the truth he carried behind practiced smiles.

To him, she had been a replacement. A calculated decision. A woman he married not out of love, but necessity.

He needed her.

Through Anna, Daniel had carved his way into the Bennetts’ empire. Piece by piece. Deal by deal. He dismantled them from within, tightening his grip so slowly they hadn’t realized they were already dependent on him.

Control had always been the goal. And Anna had been the means.

That was what he told himself.

Yet somewhere along the way, the lines blurred. Her presence became familiar. Her voice, grounding. Her absence—unbearable.

Daniel dragged a hand down his face, breathing hard. "I wouldn’t have done this," he said hoarsely. "I would remember."

Kathrine’s grip tightened around the sheet. "You were drunk," she replied quietly. "And angry. And hurting. You called me here."

"That doesn’t mean—" He stopped himself, jaw tightening.

"It doesn’t mean you wanted this," she interrupted, her voice trembling now. "But it happened."

Silence fell between them. Thick. Suffocating.

Daniel turned away abruptly, fists clenched. Something was wrong. Deeply wrong. Not just with the night he couldn’t remember—but with his mind itself. It felt fractured, as if pieces of him were missing.

And the worst part? The certainty settling in his gut that something had been taken from him.

When Kathrine had returned to his life, he had kept her close for one reason alone. She was useful.

She had helped him maneuver deals, manipulate narratives, dismantle the Bennetts quietly and efficiently. She was a shield he hid behind—a scapegoat he could discard when the time came.

Never—not once—had he imagined this.

No.

He had never wanted her like that. He was using her. And when the game ended, she would be left behind, broken and irrelevant.

Yet now, standing here, staring at her in such a compromising state, something twisted uncomfortably inside him.

Why don’t I remember anything?Even drunk... I wouldn’t have crossed that line.

While Daniel fought the chaos in his head, Kathrine watched him carefully and smiked.

Finally. Her plan was working.

She had left him once, convincing herself she wasn’t ready for the darkness of his world. But then she had seen Anna—radiant, adored, living in luxury meant for someone else.

Envy had rotted her from the inside. That life should have been mine.

Dragging Daniel to the bed had taken effort. Making it look convincing had taken planning. She had planted every detail carefully—the disturbed sheets, the marks, even photographs hidden away, insurance for when he denied the truth.

Now he has no choice, she thought coldly. Now he has to accept me.

"You need to leave," Daniel said suddenly.

She froze. "Right now."

Her lips parted, shock flashing across her face. His eyes were bloodshot, wild—nothing like the man she thought she had secured.

Did he find something? her mind raced. Did I miss something?

"I said out!" he snapped, voice shaking with fury.

Kathrine scrambled off the bed, panic creeping in as she gathered her clothes with unsteady hands. She fled the room without another word.

Daniel stood alone.

"This can’t be," he muttered, pacing. "No... no... I can’t sleep with her."

Yet the evidence screamed at him.

The marks. The smudged lipstick. Her bare skin. Everything pointed to one unbearable conclusion—and still, his mind rejected it.

He didn’t know how long he paced before his phone rang. His hand shook as he answered.

"Master..." the voice on the other end broke. "Madam... she is no more."

His world shattered. The phone slipped from his fingers as Daniel staggered back, chest constricting violently. His breath came in ragged gasps, pain tearing through him so sharp it stole the air from his lungs.

"No," he whispered. "No... Anna..."

The room spun. Everything he had done. Every lie. Every calculated move. Too late.

And somewhere, far away, Kathrine smiled—knowing the damage was already done.

***

"Daniel... Daniel, wake up."

The voice reached him gently, threading its way through the fog of his subconscious. His body jolted before his mind caught up, eyes snapping open as his breath came sharp and uneven.

The remnants of the dream clung to him—shattered images, echoes of fear—before slowly dissolving. The ceiling blurred. The shadows shifted.

And then there was her.

The face that had never truly left him.

"Anna," he muttered weakly.

For one irrational moment, he believed he was still trapped in the dream. That the voice on the phone, the grief, the devastation—none of it had been real. That she was gone and yet somehow standing before him.

"You’re here," he whispered, his voice barely holding together.

Anna frowned, confusion flickering across her features. "Of course I’m here. Where else would I be?"

She tilted her head, studying him more closely now. His hair was disheveled, his shirt wrinkled, his eyes shadowed like he hadn’t slept in days.

"Why are you sleeping here?" she asked, glancing around the study. "And not in our room?"

That question grounded him.

Reality settled back into place, slow and steady. The scent of old books. The dim lamp beside his desk. The familiar leather chair beneath him.

He wasn’t in the past.

And she was very much alive.

Daniel straightened slightly, running a hand over his face as if to wipe away the remnants of the nightmare. Without answering her, he reached out and pulled her toward him.

Anna let out a small yelp as she suddenly landed in his lap.

"Daniel!" she exclaimed, instinctively grabbing his shoulders to steady herself. "What are you—"

He didn’t let her finish.

His arms wrapped around her, firm and unyielding, pulling her flush against him as he buried his face in her chest. He inhaled deeply, breathing her in as though he needed proof she was real.

Warm. Alive.

There.

For a second, Anna froze, startled by the sudden intensity. Then she softened, her hands coming up to rest awkwardly against his back.

"...Daniel?" she asked carefully. "Are you okay?"

He exhaled slowly, his grip loosening just a fraction. "I couldn’t sleep," he said, his voice muffled. "So I came here to work."

She waited.

"But," he added after a pause, "apparently I worked myself into falling asleep."

Anna blinked.

That was it?

She pulled back slightly to look at him, her brows knitting together. "You scared me," she said, poking his chest lightly. "I woke up and you weren’t there. Do you know how unsettling it is to find your husband asleep in his study like some overworked CEO in a drama?"

The corner of his lips twitched.

"You came looking for me?" he asked.

"Obviously," she replied, rolling her eyes. "I can’t steal the blanket if you’re not in bed."

That earned him a quiet chuckle—soft, genuine, and so unlike the man from his dream that it startled even him.

"You’re very cruel," he murmured.

"And you love it," Anna shot back, though her tone softened as she reached up to smooth his hair. "You look exhausted. Were you working... or thinking?"

He hesitated, then shrugged. "A bit of both."

She studied his face again, sensing there was more he wasn’t saying—but chose not to press. Instead, she shifted more comfortably in his lap, resting her head against his shoulder.

"Next time," she said lightly, "if you can’t sleep, wake me up. I could have helped."

"How exactly?" he asked.

Anna smiled mischievously. "Moral support. Blanket theft. Occasional scolding."

He laughed quietly, tightening his arms around her again. "I think I prefer this arrangement."

"Good," she said, yawning. "Because I’m not moving until you come back to bed."

Daniel closed his eyes briefly, resting his chin against her hair.

For the first time since waking, the heaviness in his chest eased.

"Anna, do you believe in past lives?"