My Reborn Ex Dumped Me Again. Joke’s on Him, I Married Better Chapter 12

My Reborn Ex Dumped Me Again. Joke’s on Him, I Married Better Chapter 12

By the time Dorian and I had been married a full week, Grayson had already reached the point

where he dreaded going home.

The two weddings had indeed been held on the same day.

Celeste had dreamed of a fairy–tale wedding for half her life. Before the first course was even

served, it had become the laughingstock of the entire social circuit.

That day, the Harringtons had reserved the entire riverside estate. Imported white roses drifted

through the air.

Candid shots of Dorian and me exchanging rings flooded every socialite’s feeds. Even my couture

gown and the sapphire pendant at my throat were dissected and priced into the stratosphere.

At the Blackwood reception, by contrast, aside from a few staged photos at the start, even the

hired photographers abandoned ship halfway through, all scrambling to catch the Harrington wedding instead.

Celeste stood at the head table in her cathedral gown, listening to the whispers around her. “The real Vance daughter got the real fortune. The fake one schemed so hard to steal that man, and next to Dorian Harrington, he’s not worth a single strand of hair.” Her face went green.

The first night back at the Blackwood estate, she swept every bottle off her vanity and shattered them against the floor.

“Grayson! You did this on purpose! You wanted her to humiliate me, didn’t you? Why did her settlement come in at eight figures while mine was only six hundred thousand? Why is her gown the only one of its kind while mine gets compared to some influencer’s knockoff from last year?”

Grayson sat on the sofa, smoking. He said nothing.

He had seen the candids on his feed that day too.

In the photos, I stood beside Dorian, the veil lifting slightly in the breeze.

I was laughing, tilting my face up at him, my eyes bright as if they held captured stars.

Across two lifetimes, Grayson had never once seen me look like that.

“Are you listening to me?”

Celeste lunged and snatched his phone. She saw the photo on the screen. “Are you still thinking

about her? Do you have no shame, Grayson Blackwood? I died for you in our last life, and you’re still hung up on that bitch!”

“Have you had enough?”

Grayson went cold for the first time. He pushed her aside, walked into the guest room, and locked

the door.

In the days that followed, Celeste’s tantrums grew worse.

When she saw my post of the dessert Mrs. Farrow had made for me, she demanded Grayson hire

a private chef for a hundred thousand.

When she saw me attend a business gala with Dorian, wearing a couture runway piece, she shrieked at Grayson to buy her ten of the same to pile up at home.

At first, Grayson still managed to soothe her. But his patience wore thinner by the day.

He began to realize that the gentle, understanding Celeste he remembered had been a complete

act.

―

She couldn’t even remember that he never ate ginger. Every meal she cooked on the rare occasions she bothered – she threw in handfuls of it. When he objected, she snapped, “What’s the big deal? You never told me before.”

She was so lazy she made the maids wash her lingerie. When the staff gossiped, she screamed at them until they cried and fired them on the spot. The Blackwood household cycled through three full sets of staff.

Grayson found himself staying at the office later and later, sometimes working past midnight.

And all he could think about was how, in his last life when I had lived in that house, I had risen early every morning to make him a soothing broth, knowing he couldn’t stand ginger, carefully removing every single scallion.

One night, his assistant came in for a briefing and caught him staring blankly at a candid photo of me on his screen. The assistant hesitated, then laid a file on the desk. “Mr. Blackwood, that matter

–

you asked me to look into the night of the engagement party. I have results.”

Grayson’s head snapped up. “What results?”

“The night you and Seraphina were together. I tracked down an old server who worked that

banquet. He said he saw Celeste slip something into your glass. She meant to wait until you were

disoriented and stay with you, to force both families to agree to the engagement ahead of

schedule. She never expected Seraphina to walk into that room –

she’d only gone back to retrieve

a coat she’d left behind.”

The assistant handed over the server’s sworn statement, along with a grainy security clip the hotel

had kept in its archive.

In the footage, Celeste glanced around furtively, emptied a small packet of white powder into

Grayson’s glass, checked over both shoulders, and slipped away.

I had never seduced him.

The woman he had hated across two lifetimes had never done a single thing wrong.

The one in the wrong was him. Blind and foolish. He had mistaken a venomous snake for the love of his life. He had driven away the woman who had truly cared for him – driven her all the way to

her grave.

In that moment, a tidal wave of regret nearly drowned him.

He even remembered the message he had sent as lay dying. Seraphina Vance, stay the hell away

from me in the next life.

Looking back now, the one who should have stayed away was him.