Reborn: Fleeing My Toxic Boyfriend's Prom Proposal

In my past life, I gave up my college acceptance to say yes to my boyfriend's proposal at our senior prom.

Just a few years into our marriage, my husband and my best friend teamed up to drag me through hell. He tricked me into signing away my entire inheritance, leaving me with absolutely nothing. She pretended to take me in, only to secretly get me hooked on drugs.

I was forced to sell my body just to survive, while they looked down on me, laughing as they squandered everything my father had left behind.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back at my eighteen-year-old senior prom.

Under the spotlight, my boyfriend was on one knee, holding up a ring. Looking at his face, all I could remember was the smirk he wore when he threw me out onto the streets.

Blessed with a second chance, I grabbed my dress, turned, and ran. I blocked all his contacts and dug the college acceptance letter out of the trash.

He thought I was just throwing a tantrum. He actually tracked me down at college, cornered me, and mocked me in front of a crowd: "Who would ever want you without me?"

I told him I already had a new boyfriend—someone a million times better than him.

I randomly pointed at a man in the crowd. Little did I know, I had pointed at the university's youngest board member—a ruthless Wall Street tycoon serving as a guest professor.

I braced myself for this bigshot to expose my lie.

Instead, he walked right up to my side, shot a freezing glare at my ex, and asked:

"Do you have a problem with my girlfriend?"

————

The air in the dingy, cramped apartment was stagnant, heavy with the sour stench of raw sewage backing up from the pipes.

I lay on the freezing floor, struggling just to draw a breath. My arms were covered in a dense map of track marks from IV drug use.

Just then, the rusted metal door was pushed open from the outside.

The sharp click of heels on concrete drew closer, finally stopping mere inches away.

I traced my gaze up from those custom black leather pumps, landing on Sloane's perfectly made-up face.

Wearing a brand-new cashmere trench coat and carrying an exclusive designer bag, she looked entirely out of place in this filthy room.

She looked down at me, covering her nose in disgust before her lips curled into an undisguised sneer.

"Look at you now, Chloe."

Sloane's voice was soft, yet edged with cruelty.

"I suppose you still haven't figured it out. Your best friend has been sharing a bed with your attentive husband for a long time. While you were excitedly picking out curtain colors for the new house, dreaming of being the perfect little wife, Liam was spending his nights complaining to me about how stupid you are. He said your head was completely empty, that you had absolutely nothing to offer."

"Sloane..."

The sound that escaped my parched throat was weak and hoarse. I wanted to ask her why. We used to be best friends.

She pulled over a ragged chair and sat down, staring at me with the arrogance of a victor.

"This was always the plan." Sloane crossed her hands, her tone carrying a cruel delight. "From the very moment he got down on one knee to trick you into marriage, we were already figuring out how to drain every cent your father left you."

"The fact that you’ve lost everything, ended up on the streets, and become a junkie who can't live without a needle—it's all thanks to me. Those 'friends' who dragged you to parties to cope, the ones who handed you your first fix—I arranged every single one of them."

She tilted her head with a cold smile. "Hate me, don't you? I love seeing you hate me this much while being entirely powerless to get revenge."

The tiny details I had deliberately turned a blind eye to suddenly flashed through my mind with agonizing clarity.

My name is Chloe.

Before I met Liam, it was a name that made every other girl jealous.

My father was a top-tier surgeon and incredibly wealthy. He used his vast fortune to build a flawless castle for me.

Growing up, whatever I wanted—whatever I even glanced at—would be delivered to my room the very next day.

He loved my mother deeply, and naturally extended that same devotion to me. Having witnessed how happy my mother was while she was alive, I took it for granted that my only dream was to replicate her life—to be a carefree, perfect wife who only needed to worry about afternoon tea, manicures, and shopping lists.

Back then, I firmly believed that once I graduated, I could move straight from my dorm room into the large house Liam had promised me. For this foolishly naive dream, and for Liam's empty promises, I unhesitatingly crumpled up my Ivy League acceptance letter and threw it in the trash.

I thought the day he proposed would be the peak of my life.

It was, in fact, the peak. Because after that, my life became a long, agonizing descent to the bottom.

Within a few years of marriage, I had been completely marginalized, reduced to a mere decorative piece in that home.

When I finally confronted him with irrefutable proof of his infidelity and demanded a divorce, I was stunned to discover that our joint accounts had long been drained empty.

After my father died, I had no safety net. Capitalizing on my trust, Liam had softly coerced me into signing countess complex legal and financial transfer agreements that I didn't understand in the slightest.

I was kicked out with absolutely nothing to my name.

With nowhere to go, I went to Sloane to pour my heart out like a blind fool. Even then, I didn't know she was the very homewrecker lurking in the shadows.

She feigned sympathy and took me in, only to systematically lure me into the abyss of drug addiction.

To pay off the massive debts that suddenly appeared out of nowhere, and to buy enough drugs to stop my body from convulsing, I was ultimately forced to sell myself on the street corners.

"You were just a pretty ornament who only knew how to spend money and pick out dresses."

Sloane's shrill voice yanked my consciousness back to the present.

She stood up, kicking my limp arm away with the toe of her high heel, her eyes filled with vicious jealousy.

"Why did you get to be everyone's favorite just by existing? Why could you effortlessly get things that others had to bleed to grasp? But I guess none of that matters now."

She smoothed out the edge of her coat. "Your money, your husband, everything your father left you, and your glamorous life—they are all mine now."

The agonizing trembling inside me suddenly spiked. The withdrawal was kicking in.

I opened my mouth wide, desperately gasping for air like a fish out of water, but it was useless.

The edges of my vision faded to black, and Sloane's hypocritical face slowly blurred.

Suffocation completely crushed my throat. I closed my eyes and sank into endless darkness.

However, in the very next second.

My lungs were violently flooded with fresh oxygen. I gasped sharply and snapped my eyes open.

There were no damp, peeling walls, nor was there any piercing agony.

Blinding spotlights hit my face. All around me was my high school prom, decorated with massive floral wreaths and streamers.

Amidst the cheering and applause of my classmates, an eighteen-year-old Liam, wearing a well-tailored suit, was down on one knee in front of me.

He held up an engagement ring, a gentle smile tracing his lips.

I had been reborn.