My Second Life Has No Love for Him
Fuzzy Melissa · Completed · 10.4k Words
Introduction
I didn't fight for that phone. I let Vivian—Sean's ex, the woman he never stopped loving—make the call herself.
Because in my past life, I'd begged desperately for Sean to save me from this carefully orchestrated nightmare.
And he did come. He chose me over her.
Vivian was left behind. Raped. Tortured. Murdered—by the very men she'd paid to stage this.
Afterward, Sean said he didn't blame me. He took care of me through the entire pregnancy. Never missed a single appointment.
Then on the day I went into labor, he handed me over to another pack of monsters.
Everything Vivian endured—the gang rape, the abuse, the humiliation—became mine.
Before burning me alive, he threw our dead baby at my feet, his face twisted with rage:
"You wanted to survive, didn't you? This is the price. I'm going to make you feel everything Vivian felt. Not just you—this bastard that should never have existed."
Those months of tenderness were all an act. Carefully orchestrated torture designed to make my suffering absolute.
When I opened my eyes, I was back in that warehouse—watching Vivian's hired thugs hold up the phone, forcing us to choose who gets saved
Chapter 1
The chill from the concrete floor crept up through my knees and into my body, making me shiver uncontrollably.
But that cold was nothing compared to the ice in my heart.
My wrists, bound behind my back by the kidnappers, throbbed with pain. The rawness of it snapped me awake—I had been reborn.
Back to this afternoon when the nightmare began. Back to this abandoned warehouse where everything changed.
Beside me, Vivian wept, her eyes red and swollen from crying. Her Chanel suit was smudged with dust but she still managed to look heartbreakingly vulnerable.
"One phone call. That's all you get."
The kidnapper squatted in front of us, dangling an old flip phone in his hand. His eyes gleamed with cruel amusement. "You can only call one person. Remember—only one of you walks out of here alive. Let's see who that man chooses."
In my past life, it was this exact moment.
Back then, desperate to protect my unborn child, I had lunged for that phone like a madwoman. I'd called Sean through my tears, begging him to save me and our baby—I was seven months pregnant.
Sean had come. Faced with the choice, he'd actually listened to my pleas and taken me first.
Vivian had been left behind. Raped. Tortured. Murdered.
Afterward, Sean never blamed me. If anything, he became more attentive than ever—accompanying me to prenatal appointments, reassuring me I shouldn't feel guilty.
I thought we still had a future.
Until the day I gave birth.
As I screamed through the agony of a difficult labor, consciousness fading in and out, he handed me over to a group of men he'd arranged in advance.
Everything Vivian had endured—gang rape, abuse, humiliation—became mine.
In the end, he threw the stillborn baby in front of me, his face twisted in a demonic smile:
"You wanted to live, didn't you? This is the price. I'm making you feel exactly what Vivian felt before she died. Not just you—this bastard who should never have been born in the first place."
Only then did I understand. Those months of tenderness had been an elaborate web he'd woven just to make my suffering more complete.
"I'll call! Give me the phone!"
Vivian's shrill voice dragged me back to the present.
She lunged desperately for the phone in the kidnapper's hand. "I'm calling Sean! He'll save me! I know he will!"
The kidnapper glanced at me with a mocking expression, clearly expecting a fight. After all, I was the police chief's legitimate wife—and pregnant.
But I just huddled quietly in the corner.
This time, I wasn't going to fight.
"Give it to her," I said flatly, my voice hoarse. "Let her make the call."
Vivian froze, her outstretched hand suspended in mid-air. She stared at me in disbelief.
"You... you're not calling for help?"
"It wouldn't matter if I did." I lowered my eyes, cradling my swollen belly. "Let him save you instead."
Vivian didn't ask again. She snatched the phone and dialed.
"Sean! Help me! We're at the East Dock warehouse... I'm so scared, please come save me!"
Even without speakerphone, I could hear Sean's panicked voice shouting through the receiver. That urgency he'd never shown me in my past life.
Within minutes, sirens tore through the air.
The warehouse doors burst open. More than a dozen SWAT officers stormed in, fully armed.
Sean led them. He wore tactical gear, rifle raised, his handsome face carved in lethal determination.
His eyes found us immediately.
I looked back at him. But I kept my mouth shut tight, not making a sound.
The kidnapper clearly hadn't expected Sean to arrive so quickly or so heavily armed. In his panic, he grabbed me—the pregnant, less mobile one—and dragged me in front of him as a shield.
"Don't move! Back off! Or I'll kill this pregnant bitch!" he screamed, pressing a cold blade against my throat.
Sean didn't even hesitate.
Though his gun remained trained on the kidnapper, his gaze shot past me, locked onto Vivian crumpled on the floor.
"Don't be afraid."
His voice was low, soothing. Then without a second thought, he lowered his weapon and strode toward Vivian. With practiced efficiency, he cut her bonds and swept her into his arms.
As for me, with a knife to my throat—I might as well have been invisible.
Even though my heart had died long ago, it still twisted painfully in that moment.
Just as Sean turned to carry Vivian out, the kidnapper seemed enraged by such blatant disregard.
"Die then!"
He shoved me violently toward the wall.
Bang!
A gunshot.
Without turning around, Sean fired backward with one hand. The bullet pierced clean through the kidnapper's skull.
As the kidnapper fell, I lost my balance and crashed heavily onto the frozen concrete floor.
Belly first.
Blinding pain exploded through me, as if something was grinding my organs to pulp.
"Ngh—!" I curled into myself, struggling to breathe.
I remembered my past life. This was exactly how it had started—this same crushing agony that had slowly killed my baby in the womb.
Something warm and sticky trickled down my inner thighs, quickly pooling beneath me in a crimson stain.
"Help... someone help..."
I gasped for air, desperately trying to catch my breath. "The baby... please... save my baby..."
Sean had already carried Vivian outside.
The SWAT officers who remained crowded around me. I recognized most of them—some had even eaten at my house, called me ma'am with respect.
But now, not one of them reached out to help.
A young officer glanced at the blood and scoffed.
"All right, drop the act." He kicked my shin dismissively. "Ma'am, everyone at the station knows you're jealous of Vivian. Hiring kidnappers to force the chief to choose—this whole setup is pathetic."
"Exactly," another chimed in, his voice dripping with disgust. "The chief's gone to comfort Vivian now. Your performance is wasted."
"That blood looks real enough, but it's probably just a chicken blood packet you prepared ahead of time, right? The lengths you'll go to just to get his attention."
So that's how they saw me.
A desperate madwoman who'd stop at nothing to win him back.
The pain left me drenched in cold sweat. I didn't even have the strength to defend myself. I could only stare helplessly at those cold, indifferent faces.
Steady, purposeful footsteps came back.
The sound of military boots on concrete.
Sean had returned.
He'd already sent the traumatized Vivian off in an ambulance. Now he stood alone before me, towering over me.
I struggled to lift my head. Through my blurred vision, I could only make out his dark eyes—bottomless pools churning with revulsion and ice.
"Sean... the baby..." I tried to grab the leg of his pants.
But he just stared down at me coldly. Then, right there with everyone watching, he lifted his boot and kicked me hard in the shoulder, knocking my half-raised body back to the ground.
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