Reborn As the Billionaire’s Betrayed Bride

THIRD PERSON'S POV.

The restaurant shimmered with soft lights,  gold against glass, music threading through the air like silk. It was the kind of place people booked months in advance, the kind of place where everything sparkled, including the man sitting across from her.

Jonathan  looked like a dream. Tailored suit, easy smile, voice low enough to make conversation feel private even in a crowded room. When he leaned forward, the candlelight caught in his eyes, and Serena felt her chest tighten with the kind of love that made logic irrelevant.

“You’re quiet tonight,” he said, his hand brushing hers. “That’s unlike you.”

Serena smiled. “Just taking it all in.”

“Taking Me in, you mean,” he teased, the corner of his mouth lifting.

She laughed softly, shaking her head. “Always so sure of yourself.”

“That confidence is what you love about me,” he said, raising his glass.

She didn’t disagree. She loved everything about him , even the things she shouldn’t. The way he was always half-distracted, always chasing the next big deal, always needing the world to see him shine. It used to bother her, how performative he could be. But now… she’d learned to look past it. Love was about compromise, wasn’t it?

He reached across the table, his thumb tracing a slow circle against her skin. “You know, I’ve been thinking about us,” he began.

“That sounds dangerous,” she said lightly.

Jonathan’s smile deepened. “You sound  nervous.”

She blinked, caught off guard. “Why would I be nervous?”

“Because,” he said, lowering his voice, “I want to make you a promise.” He said as his hand deepens into his suit pocket.

Her breath hitched. “A promise?”

He nodded, eyes steady on hers. He slid the little velvet box across gently across the table 

Her pulse quickened “Jonathan…” 

“Not yet, I know. Not officially at least” he says softly “But I want to make you a promise”

She blinked, relief  and curiosity written all over her face “A promise?” She asks, staring down at the little black box on the table.

He smiled, that calm deliberate smile she had fallen for. “A promise that when the time comes, once you tell your family about us, once everything’s out in the open i’ll make it official. No more hiding, no more waiting. You’ll have the proposal you deserve.”

Tears welled up in her eyes, she opened the box and inside wasn’t a diamond, not yet, inside lay a simple gold band, delicate and unfinished like something awaiting completion.

Her voice caught in her throat “you are serious?”

“As serious as a heart attack baby”

For a second the world went still, All that mattered in that moment was his voice, his thumb tracing imaginary lines on her fingers and the feeling that her life was moving exactly as it should. 

She smiled and placed the ring on her right index finger, admiring it. “Then I’ll wait,” she said.

Jonathan smiled triumphantly and leaned in and placed a kiss on the finger where the ring lay. “I know”. Under this breath he murmured “you always do”.

Outside in the city of Monterra the night seemed to shine and sparkle. Everything felt lighter, Serena dance-walked all the way to the car. She hadn’t gotten her dream proposal , she never imagined  in a restaurant where waiters hovered and strangers watched, it all felt too staged… too much like a scene meant to be seen But she had brushed the thought aside, it was Jonathan and Jonathan always meant well. 

He opened the car door for her, his coat wet from the rain. “You’re smiling,” he said as she settled in.

“I’m happy,” she replied, her voice soft. “Is that allowed?”

He laughed, starting the engine. “You make it sound like I don’t make you happy enough.”

“You do,” she said quickly, too quickly. “I just… I don’t know. Tonight felt special.”

Jonathan glanced at her, the street lights making his face glow. “It should. We’re finally moving forward.”

Moving forward. The words made her heart lift and ache at once. She wanted to ask what that meant exactly,  if “forward” meant marriage, or just more waiting, they had been dating secretly for two years now but the way he said it made it sound final, like a man who’d already decided what the next chapter would look like.

The windshield wipers swept softly as rain began to fall heavier, tapping a quiet rhythm against the glass. Serena leaned her head back, watching the headl lights outside  slide across the window.

“Do you ever think,” she murmured, “about what life will look like a year from now?”

Jonathan smiled, “I don’t think that far ahead I prefer to build it.”

Of course he didn’t. That was Jonathan, driven, calculated, always chasing something just out of reach. She admired that about him. Loved it, even. But sometimes she wished he’d just pause to notice her in the small, quiet moments that didn’t need bottles of champagne or an audience.

He reached for her hand without looking, his thumb brushing her knuckles. “You worry too much, Serena. Everything’s going to fall into place.”

And she believed him, because believing was easier than noticing how distant his touch felt.

The rain had softened by the time they reached the Gregory estate. The gates stood tall and glistened under the night lamps, shining like wet glass. Jonathan slowed the car to a stop just before them, as he always did.

“You know the drill,” he said lightly. “I can’t risk being seen by your father’s guards again.”

Serena unbuckled her seatbelt and smiled. “He’s still out of town. And the staff won’t say a word. Come in, just for a bit. We should celebrate properly.” She bit her lip nervously.

Jonathan’s fingers tapped annoyingly against the wheel. He hesitated, glancing toward the dark silhouette of the house. “What about Clara?” 

“She’s either out or asleep,” Serena said, brushing off the thought. “Please, Jonathan. Just tonight.”

He didn’t want to, not really. He’d had enough smiling, enough pretending. But refusing would only raise questions. So he sighed, shifted the car into drive, and the gates opened.

As they rolled up the drive, a few of the night staff appeared, polite and discreet ready to serve. Serena greeted them warmly, Jonathan managed a half hearted Nod. Inside the house was quiet, as always.

They slipped upstairs without much noise. Serena’s room smelled faintly of lavender and the rain-soaked air coming in  through an open window.

“I’ll be quick,” she said with a soft grin, disappearing into the bathroom to change.

Jonathan exhaled, loosening his tie as he lowered himself into her bed. The moment the door clicked shut, his hand located his phone. A few swipes. He shoots a text.

Are you home?

The reply came almost instantly.

I heard your car. I thought you weren’t coming tonight.

He stared at the message for a bit too long. His thumb hovered over the keys, then typed something short in return. The phone buzzed again, the tone of the conversation shifting.

He downloaded the images sent his jaw tightened as he accessed each photo with precision. His phone vibrated again.

Ditch the plain Jane and come to my room. You know you want to. 

He should have ignored it. He didn’t.

The bathroom door swung open and Serena stepped out, her hair damp, her expression soft with that same unguarded trust that had always annoyed him.

“You’re on your phone,” she said, amused. “Work again?”

He pocketed it quickly. “Just a message I had to answer.”

She crossed to him, looping her arms around his neck. “You work too much,” she murmured, her voice tender. “Even tonight.”

Jonathan smiled, careful, distant. “I’ve got an appointment with investors tomorrow morning. I should probably get going.”

Disappointment flickered in her eyes, but she masked it with understanding, she always did. “You’re right,” she said softly. “Tomorrow will be busy.”

He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. “Get some sleep, alright?”

She nodded “text me after your meeting okay?”

“Of course”.

Jonathan waited till her back hit the pillows, her breathing evening out. Only when he was sure she was asleep did he move, quietly, practiced, he discreetly slipped out of the room shutting the door gently behind him. The house was quiet. Only the soft hum of the chandelier downstairs and the faint ticking of the clock filled the air. 

A light flickered under a door at the far end of the corridor. Faint music, low and seductive, leaked through the crack.

His pace slowed. The air changed,  warmer, thicker. He could almost feel the pulse of anticipation pressing against his crotch. 

He hesitated only once before his fingers closed around the knob. For a moment, he just stood there, listening to the faint sound of his own breathing.

Then, with a quiet click, he turned it and slipped inside.