MY WIFE KILLED ME—THEN I REBORN AS A BILLIONAIRE

Chapter 3: The Body Upgrade

The watch store was called Laurent & Fils, and it smelled like old money and leather polish. Glass cases lined every wall, each one glowing soft gold from the display lights underneath. Behind the main counter, a gray haired man in a vest looked up when Ethan walked in wearing the Monarch suit, and his entire posture changed in an instant.

"Good afternoon, sir. Welcome to Laurent & Fils. My name is Charles. How may I assist you today?" The man's voice was smooth and practiced, his hands folded neatly at his waist.

"I want to see your Patek Philippe collection. Top shelf only." Ethan walked along the display case slowly, his eyes scanning every piece without rushing.

Charles moved quickly to unlock the rear cabinet. He pulled out a velvet tray and placed it on the glass counter with the kind of care most people reserved for newborn babies.

"This is the Grandmaster Chime, sir. Reference 6300G. One of only seven produced worldwide. We are the only authorized dealer in New York currently holding one. Retail is $680,000." Charles turned the watch gently so the light caught the rose gold case.

Ethan picked it up. The weight felt serious in his hand. Real. Like holding a piece of someone's future.

"What else do you have in that range?" Ethan set the Grandmaster Chime down carefully.

Charles raised both eyebrows but recovered fast. "We have the Celestial 6102R. Astronomical complications, hand engraved star chart on the dial. $420,000."

"I'll take both." Ethan pulled out his phone.

Charles went completely still for two full seconds. "Both, sir?"

"Both." Ethan was already logging into his banking app.

"That comes to $1,100,000 before tax, sir." Charles said it slowly, almost like a warning.

"I understand numbers, Charles. Run it." Ethan's face was perfectly calm, his eyes locked on the older man without any trace of hesitation.

The transaction cleared in under a minute. Charles placed both watches in individual presentation boxes lined with navy silk, and his hands were shaking just enough to notice. Ethan strapped the Grandmaster Chime to his left wrist and slid the Celestial box into the store bag.

His phone buzzed before he even reached the door. $11,000,000 incoming. His total balance blew past the $10 million mark like a train through a paper wall.

Then something else happened.

The system's voice filled his mind again, calm and mechanical and impossible to ignore. Milestone reached: $10,000,000 total cashback. Fate Reward unlocked. Choose one.

Four options appeared in his thoughts, clear as printed text.

Option One: $100,000,000 cash deposit.

Option Two: Ten additional years of natural lifespan.

Option Three: Physical body restored to peak human condition. Ten times current fitness.

Option Four: Charisma doubled. Natural influence over all social interactions.

Ethan stopped walking in the middle of the mall corridor. People moved around him like water around a stone. He closed his eyes.

In my last life, I was weak. I couldn't even stand up from a hospital bed. I couldn't fight back. I couldn't protect myself. I lay there like a dog waiting to be put down while they divided my life into dollar signs.

Never again.

"Option three." He whispered it under his breath, and the system responded instantly.

Selection confirmed. Physical transformation initiating.

The first crack came from somewhere deep inside his spine. It wasn't pain exactly, but pressure, like his entire skeleton was being pulled apart and reassembled by invisible hands. He grabbed the railing near the escalator and gripped it so hard the metal groaned.

His shoulders widened. His soft stomach clenched inward and hardened, muscle fibers knitting together beneath his skin like rope being braided. His arms thickened. His jawline sharpened. The thinning patch at the top of his head filled in with dark, thick hair that pushed out like grass after spring rain. The tired lines around his eyes smoothed away. The dark circles vanished. The slight hunch in his posture straightened out until he stood a full inch taller.

It lasted maybe fifteen seconds.

When it stopped, Ethan opened his eyes and looked at his reflection in the store window across the hall. The man staring back at him looked thirty years old. Strong. Sharp. Dangerous in a suit that now fit even better than before because his body had become the kind of body suits were designed for.

A woman passing by actually stumbled over her own feet staring at him.

Ethan released the railing and flexed his fingers. He felt like he could put his fist through a concrete wall and not feel a thing. Every cell in his body hummed with energy he hadn't felt since his twenties.

His phone rang. Claire.

He almost didn't answer. But something inside him wanted this. Needed this. He had swallowed ten years of silence, and every unspoken word was sitting in his throat like broken glass.

He picked up.

"Ethan, finally! I've been calling you for twenty minutes. There's a delivery coming to the house at three. I need you to bring the boxes downstairs and sort them before we get back. And make sure you sign for everything, the last time you missed a delivery I had to wait two extra weeks." Claire's voice was sharp and mechanical, the tone of someone giving instructions to hired help.

"No." Ethan's voice was quiet and level.

Silence on the other end. Then a short, confused laugh. "What do you mean, no? Ethan, I'm not asking you a question. I'm telling you to handle the delivery."

"And I'm telling you no. I'm done, Claire." Ethan leaned against the mall railing, his expression completely empty.

"Done with what? What are you talking about?" Claire's voice climbed half an octave, confusion cracking through the surface.

"I've spent $340,000 on your mother's credit card debt in the last six years. I paid off Derek's DUI lawyer twice. I covered your spa memberships, your designer bags, your annual girls' trips. I paid for Lily's school, her tutors, her dance classes, her braces. I've poured every dollar I've ever earned into your family, and not once, not one single time, has anyone in that house said thank you." Ethan's voice didn't rise. It didn't shake. It came out smooth and cold like ice sliding across tile.

"Ethan, you're being ridiculous right now. This isn't the time for one of your little tantrums." Claire's tone shifted to something dismissive and tight.

"Give me that phone!" Margaret's voice came through loud and harsh in the background, and then she was on the line. "Ethan Moore, what is wrong with you? How dare you speak to my daughter like that? After everything this family has done for you, you ungrateful little worm. You should be on your knees thanking God that Claire even married someone like you!"

"Margaret, listen to me very carefully because I'm only going to say this once." Ethan straightened up from the railing, his new body feeling like a weapon he hadn't yet used. "When you get back from Miami, I want every single one of you packed and gone. You, Derek, Claire, Lily. All of you. Out of my house."

"YOUR house? You think that's YOUR house?" Margaret screamed so loud the speaker crackled.

"It is my house. My name is on the deed. My money paid the mortgage. My sweat kept the lights on. And I'm done being the floor you all wipe your feet on. Pack your things and get out, or I'll have your belongings on the front lawn by the time your plane lands." Ethan's jaw was set tight, his knuckles white around the phone, but his voice never once cracked.

"You've lost your mind! Claire, your husband has completely lost his mind!" Margaret's voice was pulling away from the phone now, shouting at her daughter somewhere in the background.

Ethan hung up.

Then he opened his contacts, scrolled to Margaret's number, and blocked it. He did the same for Derek. He hovered over Claire's name for a moment, then left it. She would need to hear what was coming next.

On a beach in Miami, Claire stared at her phone with her mouth hanging open. Margaret was already on her feet, pacing across the sand, her face red and twisted with fury.

"Book the next flight home. Right now. I don't care what it costs." Margaret jabbed her finger at Derek, who fumbled for his own phone.

Claire looked out at the ocean, the waves rolling in soft and slow, and for the first time in their marriage, she felt something she had never associated with Ethan Moore.

Fear.