Chapter 1

Eleanor Sandberg thought she was experiencing a wet dream. She’d lived like a widow for three years—no one would be intimate with her.

Yet, it felt so real, so intensely embarrassing, that it jolted her awake. Eleanor lay on the bed, staring dazedly at the ceiling, her lips slightly parted as she panted. Why this sudden, overwhelming feeling?

Last night, she’d finally triumphed after years of battling her cheating, morally bankrupt husband and her greedy uncle's family. She was now the Sandberg Group's youngest chairwoman and CEO. Had her tightly wound nerves finally snapped, sending her mind into reckless abandon?

Covered in a thin layer of sweat, the heat still lingered in her body. Suddenly, a husky male voice resonated above her. "Are you ready?"

Eleanor jolted, her eyes widening in horror as she met a pair of unreadable eyes in the dim room. A shock, like lightning, ran through her—this wasn't a dream! Someone was making love to her, without a moment for reaction.

She wanted to scream, helplessly reaching for the man's arm. He took it as acceptance, as welcome. Her world spun, her soul seemingly ascending to heaven. She had no idea where this man came from.

She lived in Minharton, a Jorstone City neighborhood with top-tier security. Outsiders couldn't enter; her household staff lived with her. How…? Then, it hit her: the room was unfamiliar. The man lifted her, revealing a heart-shaped balloon arch and a banner congratulating her on her marriage.

A marital room?

Stunned, she touched her hair. It was long, silky, and damp with sweat; tendrils clung to her back, creating an alluring silhouette. She was like a painting come to life. This wasn't the chic, shoulder-length bob she'd adopted later in life due to work demands; short hair was easier to manage.

Reborn? Taken back to her wedding day, three years past?

The man leaned to kiss her. She dodged, fearing her cheating husband—"Mr. STD." He faltered, clearly not expecting her rejection after her earlier response.

Eleanor used the light filtering through the slightly parted curtains to assess him. He had a broad forehead, chiseled features—deep-set, slightly grim eyes, a tall nose, and thin lips. Even in the darkness, his strong jaw was apparent. He was handsome, captivating.

He wasn't Mr. STD, but she recognized him: Sebastian Whitman, her cousin-in- law!

Sebastian watched her expression shift from horror to confusion to surprise—and the lack of happiness told him she wasn't pleased with him as her groom. His gaze darkened; he wavered between leaving and reckless abandon, then chose the latter.

He roughly gripped the back of her head, kissing her fiercely. He left no room for rejection, continuing this chaotic matrimonial night.

Eleanor's head spun; she was a complete novice, helpless against Sebastian's intensity. Then, she heard panicked voices from the corridor.

"There's been a mistake! The grooms went to the wrong rooms—Mr. Porter went to the tenth floor, where Ms. Brenda is!"

"What? Doesn't that mean the cousins were switched? What do we do? Should we knock and tell Ms. Eleanor?"

"They've already consummated the marriage upstairs, and people took photos. I don't think we can change it…"

Trapped in Sebastian's passionate kiss, Eleanor pieced it together. She wasn't the only one reborn; Brenda Sandberg, her cousin, was too. In their past lives, they'd shared the same wedding day. Brenda's groom, Sebastian, had disappeared on their wedding night, making her the laughingstock of Jorstone City. Brenda later connected with Maurice Porter, Eleanor's despicable husband, making Eleanor another laughingstock.

Eleanor knew Brenda had orchestrated this. Only she could explain the grooms ending up in the wrong rooms with the wrong brides. In her past life, Eleanor, refusing to suffer silently, had exposed Maurice and Brenda's affair, shaming Brenda among the elite. Brenda had vowed revenge, stating that if they could redo things, she'd replace Eleanor as Maurice's wife.

This explained the groom switch—Brenda rewriting the narrative from the start. The photos were also part of her plan; Maurice's parents might not accept her without them, solidifying her position as Mrs. Porter and preventing the "homewrecker" label. It was a thorough plan.

Eleanor didn't care about Maurice; Brenda could have him. The problem was Sebastian's supposed disappearance in her past life. Why was he now here and pistoning into her so earnestly?

Eleanor's heart raced; in her past life, her marriage to Maurice was a business deal. He'd slept with countless women; she'd feared STDs, so they'd never been intimate. For three years after their marriage, she'd focused on reclaiming what was hers, neglecting love and sex. Until her death, she hadn't known intimacy.

She hadn't expected this as her first reborn experience. And Sebastian was surprisingly skilled. She didn't know if it was his first time, but she found it incredibly satisfying.

Sebastian rose when his breathing evened, covering her eyes with his hand. She smelled his musky, woodsy scent before hearing a click—he'd turned on the lights. His consideration surprised her.