Rising from Betrayal

Chapter 002

The next second, light came.

Warm light. Golden yellow. The scent of fresh flowers.

Norman blinked.

“Norman, move!"

"I have a party to attend. Nathan will be downstairs any minute to pick me up."

"Just because we're married doesn't mean you get to control me. You have no right to imprison me in this marriage or use your title as my husband to take away my freedom.”

“Now get out of my way!"

Norman snapped out of his daze.

He recognized who was speaking.

Vivienne.

Young. Stunning. Not a trace of the fine lines that had crept into the corners of her eyes in her forties.

She wore a low-cut black knee-length dress that hugged every curve of her body perfectly.

Brown hair pinned up, one strand left to fall against her cheek

Her makeup was immaculate.

Anywhere she went, she would have been the center of attention.

She looked exactly as she had twenty years ago, shortly after they were married.

The only thing that hadn't changed was the icy look in her eyes.

This...

There was no mistake.

This was the younger Vivienne.

Where was he?

Wasn't he dead already?

How could he see the young Vivienne?

Stunned, Norman slowly looked around the apartment.

Yeah, his own apartment—the penthouse on the 42nd floor of Grand Corholt Tower.

This was where he and Vivienne had lived during the early years of their marriage.

He remembered it clearly.

The wedding portrait hanging on the wall.

The spacious living room was filled with birthday decorations: gold and white balloons pinned to the ceiling, organza draped across the corners of the room, the dining table dressed with candles and flower arrangements.

He had set all of this up himself.

But...

The problem was... more than a decade ago, after he had built the family business into one of the world's top ten corporations, they had moved into a mansion in an elite residential district.

This apartment had been sold long ago.

So...

Why was he here?!

/And looking down, his fingers were gripping something. A large bouquet of white roses, wrapped in clear plastic with a neatly tied gold ribbon. A small tag hung from the stem:

Happy Birthday, Vivienne. With love—Norman. It wrote.

A powerful sense of déjà vu crashed over him.

He remembered all of it.

Vivienne's outfit... her words... every detail felt hauntingly familiar.

And then... it hit him:

He had been reborn!

Back to exactly twenty years ago.

And today... was Vivienne's 24th birthday.

If he remembered correctly, he had started preparing for this day over a month in advance.

The silver candleholders.

The handcrafted crystal wine glasses.

The limited-edition decanter.

The priceless bottle of vintage red wine that had been aged for half a century.

Every single piece had cost him a fortune.

And every dish on the table had been cooked by Norman himself.

Pan-seared A5 Wagyu.

Boston lobster baked in butter.

Black truffle pasta.

Foie gras topped with premium caviar.

And Vivienne's favorite dessert—a delicate French strawberry soufflé.

To learn those dishes, he had personally studied under a five-Michelin-star chef, practicing almost every day for six straight months.

Yet when he returned from the flower conservatory carrying two hundred and fourteen roses...

He found Vivienne dressed to perfection, ready to leave for a party.

The man picking her up...

Was Nathan.

When Norman blocked the doorway, expecting at least a hint of guilt...

Vivienne showed none.

Instead, she looked annoyed that he had gotten in her way.

Norman remembered exactly what happened afterward.

To calm her anger, he had stepped aside.

He had even swallowed his pride and apologized.

When Nathan arrived, he had forced himself to act gracious and magnanimous, pretending not to care.

He had lied to himself, calling it trust between husband and wife.

Looking back now...

He was nothing more than a complete fool!

"Did you not hear me?" Vivienne asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I said I have other plans. So don’t expect me to celebrate my birthday with you. And don't even think about trying to stop me!"

Norman didn't reply. He just stared at the bouquet in his hand, his fingers slowly tightening around the stems until the thorns dug into his skin.

Twenty-two years.

Twenty-two years of giving in to Vivienne.

Twenty-two years of putting her before himself.

Twenty-two years of bankrolling the entire Desmond family without a single complaint.

Vivienne's father, who couldn't get through a single day without a bottle of whiskey, who spent more time on the floor than in a chair.

Her mother, drowning in gambling debts, rehabilitation bills arriving one after another like monthly subscriptions.

Her younger brother, hauled in by the police every few months for one problem or another.

Norman had cleaned up every mess, paid every bill.

He had carried that entire famliy on his back.

And yet... none of it had ever earned him even the smallest shred of gratitude.

Vivienne had never once thanked him.

Never once acknowledged his sacrifices.

To her, everything he did was simply... what he was supposed to do.

And in the end...

And in the end—she betrayed him, murdered him.

Only before his death did he learn that the five children he had raised with nothing but love... weren't even his own blood.

Thinking back on it now, Norman almost wanted to laugh.

To everyone around him in his previous life, he must have looked like the world's biggest fool.

A lovesick idiot who had been played from beginning to end, yet remained hopelessly devoted, too blind to see the truth staring him in the face.

Now...

Looking at the young, breathtakingly beautiful Vivienne standing before him, whatever love remained inside him, even the faintest trace of it, evaporated on the spot.

All that remained was icy clarity...

And overwhelming disgust.

Damn it.

I wasted my life on this woman.

This time... I'll make sure both of you bastards pay!