Reborn as Manhattan's Ruthless Heiress

After working myself to death at my corporate desk, I woke up inside a romance novel as its poor, fragile heroine. I thought I would finally get to live a lavish life of endless wealth. After all, I had already endured and overcome the bullying, the car accidents, the amnesia, and the miscarriage, finally marrying the billionaire heir, Christian Knight. Yet three years into our marriage, I realized he was slipping away. Over a single breakfast, he had already brought up Sierra Vance's performance at his corporate office for the tenth time. Meanwhile, I stared into empty space, lost in thought as floating lines of live comments drifted across my vision. [Christian obviously loves Sierra, the story's romantic rival, way more.] [Rosalie can only cry and play victim. She never deserved to marry Christian in the first place.] [A billionaire CEO belongs with an heiress of equal status. A broke girl like Rosalie has no business living this kind of life.] Since my husband had fallen for the very woman who had spent years tormenting me, a divorce was all that remained. We never needed to see each other again. Hearing Christian mention Sierra's name again made my fork freeze in midair. My expression hardened. Christian didn't notice my shift in mood and continued eagerly. "Sierra was in a bad mood a couple of days ago and completely tanked several major accounts. The board criticized her, demanding she be stripped of her executive title. But get this—she threw a total fit right there in the boardroom, smashed up the conference table, slapped people across the face, and literally knocked the toupees off those old board members' heads..." I stared down at my plate, my knuckles turning white around my fork. I couldn't help but cut in. "I'm sorry, but I don't want to hear about her anymore." Sierra Vance was my living nightmare. Back in the day, she had pinned my head to the ground beneath her designer heels, calling me trash, telling me I wasn't worthy of Christian. She had led gangs of bullies against me, taken explicit photos of me to post on the internet, hit me with her car, hired thugs to kidnap me, and shoved me down a flight of concrete stairs, causing me to lose my baby... She had left me with countless physical and emotional scars. Just hearing her name was enough to make my stomach churn with nausea, sending phantom aches shooting through my old wounds. The smile on Christian's face vanished instantly. The floating text began to scroll rapidly. [What is Rosalie's problem? Is she seriously still holding a grudge over ancient history? Talk about petty.] [Right? I mean, Sierra crossed the line back then, but that was ages ago. Rosalie is so ungraceful.] [Rosalie already won the prize and got Christian, so what else does she want? Sierra chased Christian for years and ended up with nothing. She's the real victim here.] Christian let out a sigh, his eyes dripping with disappointment. "Are you still living in the past?" "Sierra was just young and reckless back then. Why do you always have to hold it over her head?" I looked at him in disbelief, my voice shaking out of control. "Sierra tortured me for ten whole years! How am I supposed to just let that go?" The slaps to my face, the burns scarred into my flesh, and that vicious, arrogant glare of hers were permanently carved into my soul. I couldn't simply wipe them away. Once upon a time, Christian had held me close with tears of heartache in his eyes, glaring at Sierra in pure disgust and swearing he would make her pay for the rest of her life. So why was he now brushing off everything she did, turning around to accuse me of lacking grace and maturity? "Whatever. Have it your way." Christian didn't bother arguing. He slammed his fork down on the table and stood up. The chair legs scraped harshly against the hardwood floor, letting out a sharp, grating screech. I sat frozen in my seat, the flood of emotions abruptly trapped halfway up my throat, suffocating my chest. It choked me so badly my heart ached, leaving me unable to breathe. After that argument, Christian and I maintained a facade of normalcy. It was as if that small spat had never happened. He still woke me up every morning with a tender kiss, carrying me to the dining table for breakfast. At night, he still pinned me down under the sheets, relentless and fierce, driving me to tears until I begged for mercy. Yet beneath the surface, everything had shifted. We used to cuddle together every night just to talk, laughing endlessly over the tiniest, silliest details of our day. Now, without Sierra as a conversational bridge, Christian had less and less to say to me. He preferred sitting alone in his home office, scrolling through his phone with a faint smile playing on his lips. Through the floating comments, I found out the truth— He was texting Sierra Vance. When I couldn't help but question him, Christian merely brushed it off, telling me I was being overly sensitive and paranoid. The very next day, he gifted me a pink diamond jewelry set worth five million dollars. The floating comments instantly mocked me. [Rosalie is so exhausting. Christian treats her like royalty, and she still finds reasons to complain.] [Exactly. Clinging to Christian every day like an insecure, nagging housewife—anyone would get sick of that.] [Rosalie truly doesn't deserve him. I'm all for a divorce. Christian deserves someone on his level.] My heart twisted violently, leaving me drowning in confusion and helplessness. I even started second-guessing myself, wondering if I truly was the one at fault. I didn't dare ask any more questions. I made sure to give Christian plenty of space. I curled up on the living room sofa, reading books in silence. Yet out of nowhere, his mood would flip again, and he would cling to me obsessively. He would domineeringly forbid me from reading, demanding that my eyes stay solely on him. After two days of suffocating intimacy, he would turn ice-cold once more. Trapped in this back-and-forth cycle, my anxiety grew by the day. I ended up turning to the internet for advice. Well-meaning forum users suggested that we had simply hit a relationship slump. Christian and I had dated for eight years and had been married for three. Going by the timeline, hitting a rough patch or growing fatigued with routine made logical sense. Back when we had first gotten married, I had insecurely asked him what would happen if he ever grew tired of me. Christian had kissed me fiercely, forbidding me from having such silly thoughts. He had sworn he would love me forever, spoil me, and make sure my entire life was filled with sweetness and joy. Promises, however, were as fragile as paper, crumbling when faced with reality. Still, I didn't want to give up just yet. To marry me in the first place, Christian had once walked away from his family fortune without hesitation. He had swallowed his billionaire pride to work low-end retail jobs, cramming himself into a cramped, run-down studio apartment with me. It had taken so much sacrifice to finally force the Knight family to compromise and accept us. I didn't want our story to end this way.On Christian's birthday, we had agreed to celebrate together. I spent weeks researching, ultimately booking a private mountaintop restaurant. I baked a birthday cake from scratch. I even wore the specific lingerie style he liked best. From noon onward, I was counting down the hours until evening. Yet when night finally fell, my phone buzzed with an incoming call. "I'm sorry, Rosalie. Something came up at the office and I have to work late tonight. Go ahead and eat without me." My fluttering heart plunged straight into an abyss. Even so, I forced a smile into my voice and told him it was okay. Worried that he would forget to eat while buried in work, I made him pasta for his birthday, packed it into a thermal container, and drove down to his corporate headquarters. Yet the moment I pulled up to the front entrance, I saw him walking out side by side with Sierra. They were laughing and chatting casually, debating which trendy new restaurant they should hit up for dinner. As Sierra walked, she suddenly stumbled in her high heels. Christian reacted with practiced instinct, catching her firmly by the waist. Their eyes locked, and both broke into easy smiles. Sierra looked up at him with sultry eyes, her hand resting against his tailored suit over his chest. Christian raised an eyebrow playfully. "Taking advantage of the situation, Rosalie?" His words sounded teasing, but his arm tightened around her waist instead of pulling away. I knew Christian far too well. The signs were impossible to miss— The slight upturn of his lips, the fond indulgence in his expression, and the predatory, undisguised desire for Sierra flickering in his eyes. When he finally caught sight of me standing a short distance away, his face instantly hardened, a brief flicker of guilt darting through his gaze. Sierra saw me too. Instead of stepping back, she leaned in closer to him in open defiance. Only then did Christian let go of her, putting a deliberate foot of distance between them. Sierra pouted in annoyance, then suddenly strutted over toward me, raising her hand high in the air. Traumatic memories rushed back in a violent flood. My body instinctively flinched, shrinking away from the anticipated blow. Instead, she burst out laughing. That mocking laugh hit me harder than any physical slap ever could. She sneered. "Oh, Rosalie— "You're still the same pathetic, low-class nobody you've always been." In the end, they didn't go to that restaurant. Sierra declared that seeing something repulsive had ruined her appetite. Before leaving, she planted a deliberate kiss on Christian's cheek right in front of me, calling it his birthday present. On the drive back home, Christian's expression was stormy. The live comments flooded my vision in a frantic stream. [Holy crap, does Rosalie have zero manners? Crashing Christian and Sierra's date out of nowhere like a lunatic.] [Ugh, my favorite pairing just got ruined! Rosalie, please just disappear!] [Anyone else feel like Sierra completely outclassed Rosalie just now? Seriously, what does Christian even see in her?] After a long stretch of suffocating silence, Christian finally snapped. "Why did you show up unannounced?" I clenched my fingernails deep into my palms, fighting to keep my voice steady. "I was worried you'd be hungry working late. I brought food." "Next time, call me first. Don't just show up out of the blue." A bitter laugh escaped my lips, slicing my heart open. "Why? Are you afraid I'll catch you lying about working late again and ruin your date with Sierra?" Christian slammed his foot on the brake, bringing the car to a screeching halt. He whipped his head around, his eyes blazing with fury. "Who gave you permission to speak to me like that, Rosalie?!" "The Knight Group just closed a massive deal with the Vance Corporation. Taking a business partner out to dinner counts as work!" "Is that so?" I pointed trembling fingers toward the back seat, which was completely filled with flowers. My voice shook violently. "Then who sends a business partner nine hundred and ninety-nine red roses? Is that some kind of new corporate etiquette I've never heard of?" Christian choked on his words for a second, his tone turning utterly frigid. "Rosalie, can you stop throwing a tantrum? There is nothing going on between Sierra and me. We're just friends." "How could the two of you ever be friends...?" At a charity gala years ago, Sierra had deliberately shoved me down a grand staircase in front of high society. That fall had killed my unborn child and damaged my body so severely that doctors told me I couldn't carry a pregnancy for at least five years. Christian had gone completely feral back then, ready to destroy her. Yet the Vance family had shielded her with high-powered lawyers and corporate leverage, threatening to pull out of vital joint ventures. In the end, I had swallowed all my agony and signed off on dropping the charges just to ease the tension between the two powerful dynasties. Back then, Christian had held me with bloodshot eyes, swearing to me that he would make her pay one day. The physical trauma within my body hadn't even fully healed yet. And here he was, calling Sierra Vance his "friend." Knowing exactly what I was referring to, Christian let out an exhausted, impatient sigh. "How much longer are you going to obsess over something so trivial?" "Grow up, Rosalie. We're adults in the real world now. It's always better to have an ally than an enemy in high finance." I stared blankly at his handsome, detached face. It felt as though an invisible hand had wrapped around my heart, slowly and mercilessly squeezing the life out of it until it bled. Faint memories drifted back from our high school days. Back then, if Sierra laid a finger on me, Christian would hunt her down the next day and make sure she suffered three times as much. Even when his parents beat him black and blue with belts for tarnishing the family name, he had never backed down. Battered and bruised, the young boy had gritted his teeth and sworn that anyone who dared hurt me was his mortal enemy. That reckless, fiercely loyal boy slowly faded away in my memory. My eyes burned with tears, blurring my vision. I couldn't see the man in front of me clearly anymore. And I could no longer see into his heart.Christian and I entered a deep, suffocating cold war. He left early every morning and returned late into the night, sleeping in the guest bedroom and refusing to speak a single word to me. Every night, I watched the floating comments deliver live updates on his life. He had dinner with Sierra again. They went to a private cinema together. They visited a VIP lounge at an amusement park... Each update felt like a dull blade, scraping back and forth against my heart day after day. Trapped inside that cavernous, empty mansion, I felt like a flower slowly withering away in the dark. I thought to myself that maybe it was finally time for us to end things. Yet whenever I closed my eyes, all I saw was Christian. I remembered his flushed, flustered face on our very first date, desperately trying to play it cool. I remembered how pale and frantic he looked when I was hospitalized with a deadly fever, staying by my bedside for twenty-four hours straight without sleep. I remembered his sheer, uncontainable ecstasy when I said yes to his proposal. And I remembered his solemn, tearful vows at the altar. The word "divorce" kept catching in my throat. I couldn't force it past my lips. In the end, I was the one who broke first. I broke down in tears, telling him I was wrong, begging him to stop shutting me out. The first night Christian moved back into our master bedroom, he pinned me beneath his heavy frame, taking me roughly throughout the night. As the first light of dawn broke through the blinds, he gently nipped at my earlobe, letting out a satisfied sigh. "Good girl, Rosalie. Stop throwing fits, okay?" "No one could ever replace you." "I love you." Did Christian truly love me? It felt like he did. After our reconciliation, I became remarkably obedient. I stopped talking back, and I stopped asking questions about his schedule. In return, Christian went out of his way to spoil me in the most public ways possible. If I offhandedly mentioned that a necklace was pretty, he would bid millions to outbid everyone else at the auction. If I craved a certain fruit, he would charter a private jet to fly it in fresh from overseas. He showered me in custom haute couture gowns, parading me on his arm at every high-society gala in the city. Our romance became the talk of the town. The billionaire heir who fell for Cinderella, treating her like an absolute princess after marriage. Countless socialites envied me, hated me, mocked me, and looked down on me. At one lavish cocktail party, a bold, ambitious young woman practically threw herself into Christian's arms. He pushed her aside with practiced chivalry. Displaying his wedding band, he offered a warm, deeply affectionate smile that declared his devotion to his wife. The young woman grew even more infatuated with him. She turned to glare at me with bitter jealousy, hissing under her breath. "Mrs. Knight is getting older by the day. It's only a matter of time before he tosses you out!" My phone was flooded with hundreds of harassing messages every single day. Sierra Vance was among the senders. She texted me claiming that she and Christian were childhood sweethearts with matching pedigrees, and that their spark was reigniting. She said it was only a matter of time before he realized what he truly wanted, discarded me, and chose her instead. Christian saw those texts on my phone once. He simply chuckled softly. He pulled me into his arms, patting my head like one would comfort a pet cat. "Silly girl. There are thousands of women out there, but I only have eyes for you." Such beautiful, romantic words. I should have been thrilled. I should have been completely satisfied. I should have held my head high, proud and eternally grateful. So why did everything feel so sickeningly wrong? Late one night, I got out of bed to fetch a glass of water from the kitchen. As I passed Christian's private study, I overheard him chatting casually with a business associate. "Mr. Knight, the rumors are true—you really do treasure your wife like she's a precious gem." "Though I have to admit, Mrs. Knight is so sweet, innocent, and pure. She definitely deserves to be spoiled. Even I find myself captivated by her. I don't suppose you'd be willing to part with your treasure and let me borrow her for a couple of nights?" The associate spoke in a sleazy, bantering tone, clearly framing it as locker-room humor. Christian used to despise jokes like that. Years ago, he had beaten a guy half to death and used his legal team to throw him behind bars just for making a suggestive comment about me. Yet now, Christian simply chuckled along with him. "Hand over twenty percent of your company's equity, and I might consider it."I fled down the hallway in a panic. I forced myself to pretend I hadn't heard a single word. It was just a joke. Don't take it to heart, I desperately lied to myself. Yet from that night on, insomnia consumed me. I couldn't fall asleep for days on end. I tried pressing myself tightly into Christian's warm embrace, but my entire body remained bone-chillingly cold. I grew noticeably thinner, my energy draining away. Christian traced my increasingly frail waist, sounding genuinely heartbroken. "Honey, you don't need to lose any more weight. Your ribs are poking me." On my birthday, Christian booked an entire luxury seaside restaurant just to cheer me up. The private beach was blanketed in fresh roses and glowing candlelight. It was the epitome of romance. Throughout dinner, however, his phone buzzed continuously on the white tablecloth. Christian finally picked it up, glancing at the screen. His expression shifted instantly. "I'm sorry, Rosalie. An emergency just blew up at the office. I need to go handle it." Through the scrolling live comments, I knew he was lying through his teeth. The emergency wasn't business. It was Sierra. Furious that Christian was spending the evening celebrating my birthday, she had thrown a reckless tantrum, speeding down the road until she crashed her sports car. Even so, I didn't call him out. I merely nodded with docile compliance. "Okay." "Good girl. I'll be back as soon as I can." He pressed a quick kiss to my forehead and rushed off into the night. Left behind in the opulent, empty dining room, draped in an exquisite designer dress, I mechanically sliced into my steak with elegant, hollow precision. My face was devoid of expression. Boom. A sudden explosion of fireworks soared over the dark ocean, illuminating the night sky in vibrant bursts of color. I looked up just in time to see the fireworks reach their peak, blooming into glowing, giant letters across the horizon— Christian Knight loves Rosalie forever. My hand trembled, causing the knife and fork to rattle against the fine china. A sharp, salty taste filled my mouth. I touched my cheek, only to realize that tears had been streaming silently down my face for who knows how long. The piercing shrill of my ringtone shattered the silence, echoing like a grim omen. I swiped to answer. A woman's frantic, sobbing voice exploded through the speaker. "Rosalie, something terrible happened! Your grandmother was hit by a car—the doctors say she's barely holding on!" I rushed to the hospital in a blind frenzy, losing one of my high heels along the way without even noticing. My grandmother was completely covered in blood, unconscious on a gurney being wheeled into the emergency trauma unit. My knees gave out, and I nearly collapsed onto the cold tile floor. My parents had died when I was just a child. My grandmother had raised me all on her own. She was my only living family in this entire world! Chloe, her caregiver, rushed over to catch me before I hit the ground. "How did this happen?!" My face was as white as a sheet, my voice shaking so violently the words barely formed. "I'm so, so sorry! We were out shopping today when a sports car suddenly jumped the curb and plowed straight onto the sidewalk! I tried to pull her away, but I wasn't fast enough..." Chloe's face was completely masked in guilt and tears. She was a private healthcare aide Christian had hired at an exorbitant rate, assigned to look after my grandmother around the clock at her cottage. My grandmother suffered from severe Alzheimer's and almost never left the house. "Why did she insist on going out today of all days?" Chloe handed me a small, crushed bakery box containing a honey sponge cake, her voice cracking between sobs. "I'm sorry... She kept saying today was Rosalie's birthday. She said Rosalie couldn't spend her birthday without a cake..." My eyes burned crimson, my heart seizing in unbearable agony. Right then, a police officer walked over, holding an evidence photo for questioning. "Mrs. Knight, we are terribly sorry about this tragedy. This is the vehicle that struck your grandmother. Do you recognize it?" With a single glance, I recognized the custom red Ferrari. "Sierra Vance. The driver was Sierra Vance!"