Reborn To Claim My CEO Husband

The cold, damp concrete of the federal penitentiary floor sucked the last remaining warmth from Elliana Lewis's body.

Every breath she took felt like inhaling broken glass. The metallic taste of blood pooled under her tongue, thick and suffocating.

"Get up, you piece of trash."

The sharp toe of Silas McCoy's heavy leather boot slammed into her ribs. Elliana's body jerked. A sickening crack echoed in the tiny cell. She couldn't even scream. Her vocal cords were paralyzed by the sheer, blinding agony that radiated through her chest.

"The Stirling family threw you away," the guard sneered, leaning over her. His hot, sour breath washed over her face. "You're nothing but a murderer now."

Murderer.

The word echoed in her fading consciousness. Clara Faulkner was dead, and Elliana had been framed for it. The evidence had been perfect. Flawless. And it had all been orchestrated by the one person Elliana had trusted with her life: her sweet, innocent stepsister, Jovita Lewis.

Images flashed behind Elliana's heavy eyelids. Jovita standing on the witness stand, her eyes wide and brimming with fake tears. "My sister didn't mean to do it," Jovita had sobbed to the jury. "She just has such a terrible temper."

Then came the memory of the final prison visit. Jovita had sat on the other side of the thick glass, wearing a custom Chanel suit and the diamond necklace that belonged to Elliana's mother.

"Damon never believed you, Ellie," Jovita had whispered into the phone, a cruel smile twisting her pretty face. "Your marriage was a joke from day one. Oh, and Dad? He had a stroke. Mom and I have already liquidated the company. You have nothing left."

Elliana's fingers twitched on the filthy floor.

It was all her own fault. She had been so incredibly stupid. After her wedding night, poisoned by Jovita's constant whispers, Elliana had demanded a divorce. She had thrown tantrums. She had created public scandals to humiliate the Stirling family, all to force Damon to let her go.

Damon.

He had taken every insult. He had absorbed every blow. She thought his silence was weakness, a lack of love. She didn't realize until it was too late that his endless tolerance was the deepest form of protection. She had pushed away the only man who would have burned the world down to keep her safe.

"Someone paid good money for this," Silas muttered, drawing his baton. "Told me to make sure you don't go out comfortable."

Jovita. She was tying up loose ends.

Another blow landed on Elliana's spine. The pain was so absolute it turned the edges of her vision white. Her bones felt like they were being ground into dust.

As the darkness rushed in to claim her, the last thing she saw wasn't the dirty ceiling of her cell. It was a pair of deep, dark eyes. Damon Stirling's eyes, looking at her with a mixture of profound pain and unyielding devotion.

I'm sorry, she thought, her heart giving one final, pathetic flutter. If I had another life, I would make them pay. I would never let you go.

Her lungs stopped. The world went dead silent.

Then, a blinding light pierced her retinas.

Elliana gasped, her chest heaving as she sucked in a massive lungful of air. She bolted upright, her hands flying to her ribs.

There was no pain. No broken bones. No concrete floor.

She was sitting in the middle of a massive, king-sized bed. The sheets were made of heavy, cool silk. The air in the room smelled like expensive cedarwood and a hint of dark musk-Damon's signature cologne. Beneath that, there was the faint, unmistakable scent of sex.

Her hands trembled violently as she looked down. She was wearing a thin silk nightgown. Her skin was flawless. The scars, the bruises, the dirt-they were all gone.

She reached out and touched the empty side of the bed. The sheets were still warm. Someone had just been here.

Her eyes darted around the room. The dark mahogany furniture, the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking a manicured lawn. This was the master bedroom of the Stirling Estate. Her bridal suite.

Her gaze locked onto the digital clock on the nightstand. The date flashing in red numbers made her stomach drop to the floor.

It was ten years ago. The morning after her wedding.

Elliana dug her fingernails into her thighs. She pinched the flesh until it stung sharply.

It wasn't a dream.

She was alive. She was back.

The heavy oak door of the bedroom clicked and slowly pushed open.

"Ellie? Are you awake?"

A sweet, melodic voice floated into the room. Jovita Lewis stepped inside, her eyes wide with feigned concern. "How did it go with Damon last night? Was it... awful?"