Reborn to Love the Billionaire Boss

Prologue

NELLIE never got tired of this. Even when she saw it happen every day, there was just something endlessly fascinating, almost addictive, about how women reacted in all sorts of ways to her billionaire boss.

Since Fairscale’s headquarters was a five-story building with an atrium, Nellie felt like she had the best seats in the house while enjoying her morning coffee from the top floor.

The interns and new recruits were the cutest, and oh, it happened again! The girl working on the second floor, catching a glimpse of Niccolò de Vindice on his way up in the all-glass elevator, ended up walking straight into a vending machine.

So cute!

And then there was the paralegal on the third floor who had the habit of tossing her hair over her shoulder every time she saw their boss. She did it again today, and unfortunately, just like all the other days, the effort was wasted.

There were times when Nellie wished she could just issue a company-wide memo to save everyone the trouble.

To: All Staff

From: Office of the Chief Executive

Re: Clarification of an Internal Matter

Please be advised that the Chief Executive Officer's personal interests are, and will remain, otherwise allocated. No change to this arrangement is anticipated in the current fiscal year, or, in the assessment of this office, the next.

Colleagues are respectfully asked to redirect their efforts accordingly. This notice supersedes all prior speculation and remains in effect until further notice.

Thank you for your cooperation.

But since their oh-so-aloof CEO would likely kill her just for thinking it—

So sorry, babes. Let’s hope you guys find your other half elsewhere.

But in the meantime, Nellie quickly finished the rest of her coffee, threw the used can in the recycle bin, and she was ready with her clipboard by the time Niccolò reached their floor.

“Good morning,” she greeted him. “Everyone’s already waiting in the conference room.”

Nellie got a clipped nod in return, which by now she understood meant he had said ‘good morning’ back and was giving her the green light for the meeting.

Inside the conference room was the rest of the executive team. The boys on one side, and then the girls on the other, and with every ‘good morning’, her boss had a clipped nod in return except for—

“Good morning, Mr. de Vindice.”

“Good morning.” Niccolò’s voice was brief, cool, and slightly accented, but it fooled none of them. They all knew that from day one, their boss had a soft spot for their PR head, who was as clueless as she was sweet.

Niccolò got into his seat at the head of the table. “What do you have for us?”

“Well...” Nellie flipped to the first page of her report. “That depends on how much time you can spare us.”

“Enough.”

“That will work.” One click of a button, and Slide A was now on the projected screen. “European and Middle Eastern sales are doing well. Asia, not so much, but...” She looked at Denny. “You’re on top of it, yes?”

“Let my eyebags be my evidence.” Denny the Dramatic, as always.

Nellie nodded. “Evidence acknowledged. Moving on.” Another click, and Slide B was on the screen. “Here are our numbers for North America.”

“Not quite meeting our targets,” Leah reported, “but we’re in talks with new suppliers.”

And now, for their favorite part...

Nellie glanced at Payton. “How fares our social value?”

“We’ve been monitoring our social media metrics since Mr. de Vindice’s feature on Time Magazine,” the brunette shared with her usual soft smile, “and there has been a significant surge of interest in our company’s services.

We’re still working on a plan for how to maximize this, but also of note is a 147% increase in keywords indirectly related to Fairscale. ”

“Such as?”

“Does Niccolò de Vindice have a girlfriend?”

“Nope.”

Leah, Nellie, and the boys were the ones who answered simultaneously, which had Niccolò’s expression turn glacial while Payton looked confused.

“How do you guys sound so sure?” Payton looked at their boss. “Why does it seem like I’m the only one who doesn’t know you’re dating? I should be the one—”

“Don’t let them fool you,” the billionaire interrupted her coolly. “They know nothing at all.”

Nellie felt so proud of herself for not giving in to a snicker. Because contrary to what their CEO was saying, it was Payton, not Nellie and the others, who knew nothing at all.

“And more importantly, my private life is my business.”

“Well, about that—” Payton’s expression turned rueful. “All those indirectly relevant keywords I mentioned have something to do with your personal life. The second one is actually quite similar: Is Niccolò de Vindice married?”

Obviously not, Nellie thought, but you are, and there lies the problem.

Because right then, Payton’s phone had just buzzed against the table, and flashing on its screen was her husband’s photo.

“You can take that,” Niccolò said.

“No, it’s fine—” Payton grabbed her phone and dropped it into the pocket of her blazer. “Sorry about that. Shall we continue?”

“Yes, let’s.” Nellie couldn’t speak quickly enough. All of them were aware of their boss’s unrequited feelings for Payton. But it would always be the elephant in the room and would stay that way, too, since they also knew it was a line no one should ever cross.

Eric Cheyney would never be on anyone’s list of favorite people in this office, but he was still Payton’s husband, for better or for worse.

And unfortunately, when Payton got home that evening, none of them would know until it was too late—it was for the worst.

"DRINK IT, SWEETHEART."

They had been married for four years. Four.

That wasn’t exactly an entire lifetime, sure, but it should’ve been long enough for him to know that she didn’t drink.

But here he was, forcing wine down her throat.

She knew it was his most expensive wine, but she had never liked the taste of alcohol, and he had always known that.

“There you go.” Eric’s tone was satisfied as he continued making her drink against her will. Liquid had begun to dribble past her lips, but he didn’t seem to notice. Or care.

Payton wanted to stop him, but she couldn’t even lift her hand. His arm was deceptively warm behind her shoulders. Even with her thoughts hazy, she knew it wasn’t about her husband comforting her. It was to keep her in place as he made her drink from his wine glass.

“Good girl.”

The room was starting to blur as well. She watched him straighten. He was like a ghost now, but even so. When he walked to the kitchen island, and she saw a sheet of paper in his hand—

That was her stationery. The one she used to write letters to her friends and post them, the old school way.

“I’m sorry.”

At first, Payton thought he was apologizing to her—

“I just can’t go on anymore. There’s this darkness inside of me that I can’t escape from.”

Eric looked at her with a smile. “It sounds like you, doesn’t it? I used your ChatGPT account, got it to write a letter. Fictional, of course. I told him you wanted to be an author.”

Tears started rolling silently down her cheeks. She wanted to run away. She wanted to ask him why. But she still couldn’t move.

He walked back to her, and her tears rolled faster when she heard him actually start to whistle. How could this be the same man she had fallen in love with, the same man who had promised to love and cherish her, for better or for worse, till death do them part?

“Aww, don’t cry, sweetheart.”

Her body was immobile as Eric smoothed her hair back from her forehead, but inside her soul was desperately trying to get away from his touch, which now felt as traitorous as a rattlesnake.

“I know, Pay. I’m sorry. It will be over soon, I promise.”

All she could do was look up at him. Why, Eric? Why?

Her husband bent down to kiss her forehead. “This isn’t about you.” He resumed stroking her hair. “I just have to be free of you. I need a fresh start.”

And there it was, the answer to the question she could only cry out in her mind.

He wanted a fresh start with the other girl.

Rosé.

She supposed she could understand that, but why, though?

Why did he have to kill Payton for his fresh start?

Couldn’t he just...divorce her like normal men did?

“I hope you understand.”

No, she didn’t understand at all, but even if she could say that right now, he probably wouldn’t care either way. There was no going back from this, and no going back for her, with everything now going dimmer.

“My new girl, she knows I owe people some money. But I’m maxed out. So, that’s when she taught me what to do.”

While speaking, Eric wrapped his fingers around her neck with tender care.

“Insurance policy, sweetheart. It works like magic.”

His touch was almost loving, but the excited look in his eyes suggested otherwise, and the way he was breathing so fast...

Even with the room spinning faster and faster, and her eyesight blurrier, it was so painfully, heartbreakingly easy to tell.

He was tempted.

So, so very tempted to know what it meant to kill.

Even if the price of knowledge was her life.

“I think it’s time, sweetheart.”

The poison had completely eroded her strength at this point. She couldn’t even cry, couldn’t do anything as Eric lowered her against the cushions, tender as a lover.

Her mind went on rewind, replaying her memories like B-roll.

Why, Eric? Why?

How did we get here?

Why must you go so far as to kill me?

“Close your eyes, sweetheart. Don’t fight it.”

It wasn’t a request either, with her husband running a hand over her eyes.

This was it then.

She was really going to die.

She had never really taken the time to wonder if there was Heaven or Hell, but she didn’t have a choice now, did she? She was going to find out if—

HUH?

Someone was crying.

And then, something else, too.