Reborn I Watched My Cheating Wife Destroy Our Son

In my past life, I believed compromise could be traded for love. That if I endured enough, cared enough, I could eventually warm Bella's heart. I was wrong. It wasn't until moments before my death that I learned the truth: Bella had never stopped thinking about John. She refused to believe he would ever harm our son. The way she treated me—ordering me around like a dog, stripping me of my dignity—wasn't indifference. It was deliberate revenge. Slap! My head snapped to the side. Julian stood over me, chest heaving. "You piece of trash! Why haven't you called Bella yet?" I touched my cheek, feeling the heat rise. "I called. I sent messages. She isn't responding." "Impossible!" My mother-in-law scoffed. "Bella isn't heartless like you. That's her own son—how could she possibly not care? You're lying." Julian's glare said he agreed. Without a word, I unlocked my phone and held the screen up. A wall of red—dozens of outgoing calls, unread WeChat messages, ignored texts. The timestamps proved I'd been trying for hours. Julian studied the screen, then the welt forming on my face. Guilt flickered in his eyes. He lowered his hand. "What exactly is she busy with? She keeps her phone on loud twenty-four hours a day. She never misses a call." My mother-in-law wasn't convinced. "You must have done something to upset her. That's why she isn't answering." She let out a sharp breath. "Letting you marry into our family was a curse. If it weren't for you, my grandson wouldn't have been taken." Every word an accusation. Right, I thought bitterly. Because back then, it wasn't Bella who begged me to marry her. Bzz bzz! Bella was finally calling back. My in-laws' spirits lifted instantly. "Answer it! Hurry!" I tapped speaker. But the voice that drifted out wasn't hers. "Bella's in the shower." A man's voice, dripping with arrogance. "What do you want?" John. The color drained from Julian and his wife's faces. They had no idea Bella was still in contact with him, let alone with him at this hour. "Tell my wife our son has been kidnapped!" I shouted, feigning panic. "They want three million dollars!" "Is that so?" John sounded bored. We heard fabric rustle, then a door opening. "Hey!" Bella's voice came through, high-pitched and playful. "How can you just walk in while I'm showering? Get out, you pervert—you almost saw everything!" Feigned modesty. Flirtation. "Don't blame me," John said smoothly. "Aaron called. He insists Frankie's been kidnapped." The intimacy was unmistakable. Julian and his wife exchanged looks. They'd always believed their daughter was aloof, reserved. A workaholic. They never imagined she'd use work as an excuse to tryst with a man they despised. Shuffling sounds. Bella snatched the phone. Her playful tone vanished, replaced by ice. "Aaron Pruitt, have you lost your mind? Calling me in the middle of the night with this garbage?" she hissed. "Don't you know how busy I am with work?" No pause. No breath. "You narrow-minded, jealous little man. Using our son's life to lie, just to trick me into coming home? Pathetic!" She thought Frankie had secretly come to find her and John. In her delusion, she probably imagined the three of them running away together. She couldn't fathom our son was actually in danger. To her, this was just another one of my tricks. "I'm not lying," I said, keeping my voice steady. "Frankie was taken. Mom and Dad are right here—ask them." I shoved the phone into Julian's trembling hand. "Bella!" He barked, suppressing his anger at her infidelity to focus on the crisis. "The kidnappers said if we don't come up with three million by five in the morning, they'll kill him! Even if you don't come back, authorize the transfer!" Silence. Then a scoff. "Dad, don't be fooled by Aaron." Condescension dripped from every syllable. "Frankie just finished his exams—he's probably out partying. This is just Aaron trying to scam the family so he can run off with the money."

Bella didn't take it seriously at all. "Normal? Are you out of your mind? The kidnappers sent a video!" Julian roared, his anxiety boiling into rage. Valerie leaned in, trembling. "Bella, listen to me! Frankie is covered in blood. He was screaming for help... You need to get the money. Now!" "Videos can be faked, Mom! Don't you know what kind of person Aaron is? He probably staged the whole thing. Stop bothering me with this nonsense." Her tone was sharp with impatience. "I'm busy. I have work to do." She hung up without waiting for a reply. John immediately wrapped his arms around her waist from behind, breath hot against her ear. "Relax. Frankie is already at the airport." "I know," Bella scoffed. "That idiot Aaron is still completely in the dark." A smug smile played on her lips, but it faltered as she felt his hands roam lower. A shiver ran through her. "John... you're terrible... watch where you're putting those hands..." They embraced, dissolving into intimate kisses, oblivious to the chaos they were ignoring. Back at the house, Julian and Valerie shook with fury. "She... she's abandoning her own son just to fool around with John," Julian stammered, face turning a dangerous purple. "She's gone crazy!" Valerie sobbed. Julian slammed his fist against his thigh. "That man is poison!" "Maybe she really is working..." I offered weakly, deliberately playing the oblivious, spineless husband to stoke their anger. "Enough!" Julian snapped. "How can you be this spineless? They're living together, for God's sake!" His fists clenched until the knuckles cracked. "John is scum. Chases skirts all day. I've warned Bella a thousand times, but she refuses to listen!" He paced the room, frantic. "What do we do? We don't have the cash on hand. Are we just going to watch Frankie die?" Valerie wept uncontrollably. "We could call the police," I suggested quietly. "It's almost three o'clock. The deadline is five. That gives us two hours." "But the kidnappers said they'd kill him if we involved the cops..." Valerie's eyes went wide with terror. "What choice do we have?" Julian slammed his teacup onto the table, shattering it. "That unfilial daughter of ours has been brainwashed by John. She doesn't care about anyone but him." "I'll try her one more time," I said. I dialed Bella's number. "Sorry, the number you have dialed is powered off. Please try again later…" She had turned off her phone. "Unfilial! Absolutely heartless!" Julian shouted, his disappointment hitting rock bottom. Just then, my phone buzzed. Another message from the kidnappers. [Two hours left.] It was accompanied by a second video. Far worse than the first. My son was soaked in what looked like chili water or chemicals. His face was beaten to a pulp, swollen beyond recognition—a grotesque, bloody mask. Valerie screamed. Julian couldn't sit still any longer. "Call the police! Now!" Plainclothes officers arrived quickly. After assessing the situation, they instructed me to stall the kidnappers—lie and say the ransom was ready. The kidnappers sent an exchange location and demanded I come alone. Before I left, Julian and Valerie clasped their hands together, praying fervently for Jesus to protect their grandson. But I knew the truth. Frankie wasn't coming back. In John's plan, there was never an option for Frankie to survive. The videos were likely prerecorded hours ago. I arrived at the drop-off point, a desolate stretch of road. The moment the bagman appeared, the ambush sprang. Police swarmed from all directions, tackling him to the ground. "Where is my son?! Is he okay?!" I rushed forward, grabbing the kidnapper by his collar, shaking him violently. I had to sell the performance. "He's been dead for hours!" The kidnapper threw his head back and laughed, showing zero remorse. "Who told you to drag your feet? You took too long, so we finished him! Hahahaha!" The man was deranged. "I'll kill you! Bastard!" I lunged at him, landing a punch on his jaw before officers dragged me away. An hour later, at the station. The police had broken the kidnapper during interrogation. They led me to the morgue. Frankie's body lay on the cold steel table. Tortured so brutally he barely looked human. I threw myself over his corpse, letting out a guttural wail. As I lay there performing the devastated father, the door burst open. Julian and Valerie rushed in, eyes landing on the mangled body of their grandson. The room filled with the sound of their heartbreak.

"Frankie!" "My grandson! My precious boy!" Valerie collapsed to the ground, her wails piercing the stagnant air of the morgue. Julian lunged at me, seizing my collar with trembling hands. "What is going on, Aaron? How could Frankie be dead? We still had time! The deadline hadn't passed!" I let the tears flow—easy to summon in the face of such tragedy, even with a heart cold as ice. "The kidnappers said we waited too long. Since we didn't pay, they got tired of waiting. They disposed of him hours ago." Disposed of. The words hit Julian like a physical blow. He staggered back, releasing me, and sank to the floor beside his wife, burying his face in his hands. "It's all because of that ungrateful daughter of mine!" "She killed him! She killed my grandson!" Later, as I prepared to transport Frankie's body to the crematorium, I called Bella—making sure to do it right in front of her parents. "Frankie is dead," I said, my voice thick with feigned grief. "Are you really not coming back?" The call connected instantly this time. Her voice was sharp, dripping with disdain. "Oh, save it. You still have the nerve to lie to me? Just wait until I get home, Aaron. I'm going to make you pay for ruining my trip." She hung up. In her delusional mind, she probably believed I was keeping Frankie from meeting her. She couldn't conceive of a world where her desires weren't the only reality. Julian and Valerie heard every word. They didn't speak, but their shoulders shook—trembling with pure, unadulterated fury. The funeral was a blur of gray skies and black clothes. The real storm didn't begin until we returned to the Henson residence. We walked through the front door—Julian and Valerie supporting each other while I carried the urn wrapped in black velvet. That was when Bella finally appeared. She had just arrived, still wearing her oversized sunglasses, looking every bit the high-society woman returning from vacation. When her gaze landed on the box in my hands, her expression twisted with disgust. "Are you sick in the head?" she shrieked. "How dare you bring something so unlucky into this house? Are you trying to curse me?" Before I could react, she rushed forward. No hug. No questions. She slapped the urn out of my hands. Crash. The ceramic shattered against the hardwood floor. Gray ash—the last earthly remains of our son—spilled out, scattering across the polished wood. She didn't stop there. With the momentum of her rage, she swung her hand and cracked her palm across my face. "You useless trash!" Her manicured nails left a stinging, bloody scratch on my cheek. Julian and Valerie stood frozen in the doorway, eyes wide with horror. "How could you..." Valerie whispered, her voice breaking. "Frankie's ashes..." I cried out and dropped to my knees, scrambling frantically, scooping gray dust into my hands while ceramic shards bit into my skin. I forced my shoulders to heave, squeezing out fresh tears. "Stop acting!" Bella screamed, looming over me. "You just want attention, don't you? You're so desperate you'd fake our son's death and bring this filth into my home? You're pathetic, Aaron. Cheap and pathetic!" "Shut your mouth, you unfilial wretch!" The roar came from Julian. He crossed the room in two strides and delivered a backhand slap that echoed through the hall. The force sent Bella stumbling back, her sunglasses clattering to the floor. She stared at her father, completely stunned. "Dad?" She touched her cheek, eyes wide with confusion. "Why are you protecting Aaron? You hate him! You've always called him a useless coward!" "I'm your daughter," she wailed, playing the victim instantly. "He's just an outsider!" "I don't have a daughter like you!" Julian bellowed, his face turning a dangerous shade of purple. "While Aaron was doing everything he could to save Frankie, where were you? Frolicking with John Dickerson!" Bella flinched at the name. "You didn't care if Frankie lived or died," Julian continued, voice cracking. "And now you come home and scatter his ashes on the floor? Is that what a mother does? Do you have any idea how much Frankie suffered before he died?" He broke down then, tears streaming freely. "Why did you even come back?" Valerie sobbed, stepping forward. "Go! Run away with your precious John! Get out of my sight!" They had always treated Frankie like a prince—doting on him, never raising their voices. Losing him was like having a piece of their hearts gouged out. Seeing Bella treat his remains with such callous disrespect broke something inside them. "Dad, Mom, are you senile?" Bella stamped her foot, frustrated that her narrative wasn't working. "How can you let Aaron brainwash you like this?" She turned her venomous glare on me, convinced this was an elaborate ruse I had orchestrated to humiliate her. Valerie didn't argue. With a trembling hand, she pulled two documents from her purse—the death certificate and the cremation receipt. "Read it," Valerie hissed, shoving the papers into Bella's chest. "Read it and tell me who's confused." Bella grabbed the papers, movements jerky with anger. She scanned the first page. The color drained from her face instantly. I remained on the floor, head bowed over the pile of ash, hiding the dark, satisfied sneer curling my lips. The show has finally begun.