I’ll Marry His Rival and Burn His Empire to Ash Chapter 01

I’ll Marry His Rival and Burn His Empire to Ash Chapter 01

While I was unconscious, I spent thirty years watching the complete and utter ruin of my life.

I saw how Jackson, the husband I had loved for ten years, took his vicious revenge on me for refusing to accept his illegitimate child.

I saw how my family’s company crumbled under the weight of his influence and the old-money power behind him.

I saw how my best friend, Chloe, tried to save me from him, only to have her leg mauled by his Dobermans, leaving her crippled for life.

And finally, I saw myself, committed to a psychiatric hospital by his own hand, destined to spend the rest of my life in endless darkness.

Then I woke up.

I had returned to the moments after the car accident, before any of the tragedies began.

So when my dearest friend Chloe sent me photos of the secret baptism Jackson had arranged for his illegitimate child, I smiled.

Everything from the nightmare was coming true.

Good.

I rushed to the Devereaux family’s private chapel.

When my husband, Jackson, saw me, his face went livid. He grabbed me and dragged me into a corner, hissing, “Ava! What the hell are you doing? If you make a scene, you’ll humiliate us all.”

His mistress, Savannah-Claire, clutched the baby to her chest, tears streaming down her face as if she were the victim. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Devereaux…”

His parents stepped forward to smooth things over. “Ava, you must be magnanimous. The Devereaux family needs an heir.”

I looked at the familiar scene playing out before me, and not a single ripple of emotion stirred within me.

In my last life, for the sake of the ridiculous “dignity” Jackson was so obsessed with, I swallowed my anger and lost everything.

Not this time.

Smiling, I took the gift I had prepared from my bag: an heirloom silver rattle from the Devereaux family.

“Congratulations to the newest member of the Devereaux family.”

I presented the gift myself, offering impeccable blessings.

Under everyone’s shocked gaze, I turned with grace and walked away for good.

In the car, Chloe was practically losing her mind.

“What is wrong with you? That’s Jackson! You used to…”

“The old Ava is dead,” I interrupted.

She didn’t understand. It wasn’t that I didn’t hate him.

It was that I had already seen the answer key, and I had no interest in walking that same doomed path again.

The woman who made a scene, who fell apart, who ultimately destroyed everything—that was the me from my last life.

In this life, all I wanted was to make them pay.

I took out my phone. My fingertips were cold, but strangely steady.

I found the contact for the “new money” tycoon who, in the nightmare, had been the only one to extend a hand to me: Ethan Blackwood.

I typed the message and sent it.

[In seven days, I’ll be single again. Marry me, and I’ll help you burn the Devereaux family to ash.]

…

My phone vibrated in my palm.

I had just parked on the private drive of the Devereaux estate, the lane shaded by century-old oaks, when the reply came.

[Seven days. At the law firm.]

Short. Direct. Just like Ethan Blackwood himself.

I put my phone away, opened the car door, and stepped into the gilded cage where I had lived for five years as Mrs. Devereaux.

On the wall in the center of the living room hung the enormous oil portrait we had commissioned for our wedding. In the painting, I wore an antique lace wedding dress, my smile bright and docile as I leaned against Jackson. He wore a white suit, handsome and confident—the Golden Boy of the South, as all of Charleston knew him.

We used to be that.

If not for the car accident, if I hadn’t been forced to watch that thirty-year preview of my own tragedy, perhaps this painting, and the last vestiges of warmth in our relationship, would still have the power to hurt me.

But now, it just looked like an exquisite obituary.

“Martha,” I said, my voice quiet but firm enough to make the old housekeeper stop polishing the silver.

“Take that painting down and throw it away.”

Martha froze. The cloth in her hand dropped to the floor. “Mrs. Devereaux… that was your favorite.”

“Not anymore.” I pointed to the silver-framed photos on the mantel. “Those too. And everything in the study. Get rid of all of it.”

Martha stood motionless, her face etched with conflict. “Ma’am, while you were unconscious, the master didn’t come home often, but he never allowed anyone to touch these things.”

She chose her words carefully. “He would just stand and look at them for the longest time. Now that you’re awake, perhaps… there’s still a chance for you two.”

A chance?

I almost laughed.

“There’s no need,” I answered coldly.

Martha could only sigh and turn to call for help.

I was tired and about to go upstairs when the estate’s front door was shoved open. Jackson stormed in, radiating pure rage.

In a few long strides, he was in front of me. He seized my arm, his grip so hard I thought he might crush the bone.

“Ava, you really are a ruthless bitch!” His voice was hoarse with fury, his handsome face twisted into something almost unrecognizable. “I thought you might have changed after waking up. Turns out you’re still just as vicious!”

He dragged me closer, his eyes bloodshot.

“You knew that child was allergic to nuts, so you smeared nut powder on that rattle, didn’t you?!”

“He’s barely a month old! Were you trying to kill him?”

I looked at him calmly, not even trying to pull away.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re a damn good actress!” Jackson growled, spittle flying. “You’ve always been good at these cruel little games!”

At last, I wrenched my arm from his grip.

“Jackson, if I do something, I admit it. I didn’t do this.” My voice was as cold as ice. “Today was the first time I ever saw that child. How would I know he was allergic to nuts?”

“And even if I did know, I wouldn’t be stupid enough to leave evidence for you to find.”

My composure seemed to enrage him more than any hysterical denial ever could. He didn’t believe a word.

My heart didn’t sink with the sting of being wronged. It sank with the cold, hard confirmation of the stupidity I’d already witnessed in my vision of the future.

“Believe me or don’t. I’ve said my piece. It wasn’t me.”

I had no desire to waste another word on him. I turned to go upstairs.

The two bodyguards who had followed Jackson in immediately stepped forward, blocking my way.

I stopped and looked back at him. “What are you doing?”

Jackson’s expression shifted abruptly. The violent fury vanished, replaced by a chilling, condescending composure.

“Ava, darling, you’re far too agitated.” He leisurely adjusted his bow tie, as if he hadn’t been the one behaving like a beast moments ago. “You just recovered from a major accident. Losing control of your emotions like this isn’t good for your health.”

He stepped closer, speaking with the arrogance of a Southern aristocrat stating a universal truth.

“Dignity, Ava, is the most important quality in the mistress of the Devereaux family. Your behavior today was profoundly undignified.”

“You need some time. Somewhere quiet.” He paused, the curve of his mouth cruel. “To calm down, reflect on your behavior, and think about how to become a proper Mrs. Devereaux again.”

My blood ran cold.

“Take her to the old stable out back and lock her in,” he ordered the bodyguards.

The men didn’t hesitate. One on each side, they seized me.

That stable had been abandoned for more than ten years, tucked away in the most remote corner of the estate. Cold, damp, stinking of rotting wood and mold. I’d seen it in the nightmare. That was where he released the Dobermans…

I began to tremble, not from fear, but from a chill that had sunk deep into my bones.

“Jackson!” I called out his name.

He just waved a hand, signaling the bodyguards to hurry.

I was dragged roughly out of the warm, bright living room, through the manicured garden, and finally shoved into that suffocating darkness.

With a bang, the heavy wooden door slammed shut behind me. Then came the sound of an iron bolt sliding into place.

Not a sliver of light remained.

The air, thick with dust and mildew, scratched at my throat, making it hard to breathe. The early spring chill of Charleston seeped through my thin dress like a thousand needles.

“When you’ve decided to apologize for what you’ve done, I’ll have someone let you out,” Jackson’s cold voice came through the door.

Even as my teeth chattered uncontrollably, I used every bit of strength I had to press my face to the crack in the door.

“I didn’t do it…”

Outside, there was a long silence. Then I heard his footsteps fading away, and his muffled voice as he took out his phone.

“Savannah-Claire, don’t be afraid, sweetheart. I’ve handled it…”

Darkness and cold swallowed me whole. I curled up on a pile of dusty hay, my body trembling violently.

Hours later, as my consciousness began to blur, I heard Martha screaming outside.

“Sir! Mr. Devereaux! The madam has fainted in the stable!”