Chapter 1

The first thing I did after being reborn was to cut up that jerk's black card, then swipe his secondary card to keep eight hot guys.

I was Richard Foster's kept woman for five years. In my last life, I died saving him from a car accident. This time, all I wanted was to bleed him dry.

Just like always, he tossed me a card. "Be good. Go buy whatever you want. Just don't bother me."

I flashed him a sweet smile, then headed straight for the priciest host club in town, got their top-tier VIP room, and had the bill sent straight to his office.

Later, Richard cornered me at the door, his eyes red with rage. "Why?" he demanded.

I waved my phone in his face, showing him the ultrasound report for my boy and girl twins. With a sweet smile, I asked, "Mr. Foster, guess which one's a Carter and which one's a Jones?"

*****

When I came to, I was on Richard's massive black velvet bed—the one that was easily six feet wide and all his.

The air was thick with his usual cool, woody scent, laced with a hint of lingering steam from a recent shower.

I jolted upright and looked down at my hands.

Long, slender fingers. Soft, flawless skin. No trace of the scars I'd had.

Wait. Wasn't I dead?

I threw myself in front of that runaway truck for him, ended up a bloody mess, and died in his arms.

With my last ounce of strength, all I wanted was to see if he'd shed a single tear for me.

But instead, he just pulled out his phone and called his precious first love, speaking in a gentle tone I'd never heard before.

"She was just a plaything. She's gone, and I'll get another. Don't be upset—I'm on my way."

A plaything.

Five years of loving him, and I was nothing more than something he could replace. Disposable.

It felt as if an invisible hand had seized my heart, squeezing until I couldn't breathe.

"Awake?"

The bathroom door opened. Richard stepped out in a towel, water sliding down his abs.

He dried his hair without looking at me, pulled a black card from his wallet, and tossed it on the nightstand.

"Password's your birthday. Don't bother me," he said.

The exact same words. The exact same moment as last time.

I was reborn.

Back to five years ago—the day Richard took me from the orphanage. The day it all started.

Back then, when he gave me that card, I thought it meant he loved me. From that moment on, I gave him everything.

Not this time.

I looked up and gave him my sweetest smile. "Okay, Richard."

He paused, surprised at how agreeable I was, but shrugged it off and started getting dressed, ready to leave.

The moment the door clicked shut, my smile vanished.

I picked up the black card, then fished his secondary card out of the suit jacket he'd tossed carelessly on the bed.

With scissors, I cut up that black card—the one that meant I was his special property, his so-called gift—into shreds.

Then I called the most exclusive host club in town.

"Hi, I'd like to book the VIP suite for tonight.

"Just me, but send over eight of your hottest guys.

"Yeah, the most expensive ones you've got.

"Bill it to Foster Holdings Executive Office, attention Richard Foster."

When the manager at Golden Era Lounge got my call, he thought it was a joke.

But after verifying that Richard's secondary card was legit, he suddenly became all polite and respectful.

When I arrived, eight tall and gorgeous men—each with a different vibe—were lined up waiting.

The cold genius. The sunny boy-next-door. The bad boy with edge. The gentle romantic. Every type you could want.

Dressed in the custom designer dress Richard had picked for me, I sat dead center on the VIP couch like a queen surveying her kingdom.

"Don't just stand there. Come over here and sit." I patted the seat beside me.

The guys exchanged glances, and finally, the sharpest-looking sunny boy-next-door type made his move and slid over.

"Hey, gorgeous, what do you want to play?" he asked.

I picked up a grape and held it to his lips. "No games."

I watched as his ears turned pink, then said slowly, "Just massage me, sing for me, and talk to me.

"Most importantly, make sure I'm happy."

I swiped Richard's card for the priciest drinks, the best fruit platters, and had the kitchen fly in fresh bluefin tuna sashimi.

By the end of the night, I'd burned through seven figures like it was nothing.

The next morning at ten, a courier hand-delivered that massive bill—marked "For Richard Foster's Eyes Only"—straight to his office on the thirty-sixth floor.

Rumor had it that Richard was in the middle of a high-stakes video conference when it happened.

When his assistant handed over that gold-embossed bill, everyone saw it. The famously unshakeable Mr. Foster actually snapped his pen in half.

The video conference ended abruptly.

Richard stormed in, practically kicking the door off its hinges.

I was lounging in the living room in a seven-thousand-dollar face mask, with the boy-next-door feeding me strawberries on my left and the bad boy massaging my legs on my right.

Rock music blasted from the TV.

Richard stood in the doorway, face dark as a thunderstorm.

He strode over, the air around him suffocating.

"Emily Summers, what the hell do you think you're doing?"

His voice came through gritted teeth, barely holding back his rage.

I slowly peeled off the face mask, showing off my glowing skin, and flashed him my most innocent puppy eyes.

"Just using your money to buy what I like—see, I'm not even bothering you," I said.

I mimicked his usual careless tone, letting every word drip with sweetness.

"See how good I am?"

Richard glared, chest heaving, barely holding it together.

He'd never expected his compliant little pet to rebel.

This was just the beginning, Richard.

In my last life, I died for you. This time, I was going to ruin you—your money, your name, everything.