Stealing the Protagonist's Halo

I gripped my phone so hard my knuckles turned white, cold sweat already soaking through the silk sheets. "Evander, get a doctor ready. I want this pregnancy terminated.

Now." Dead silence hung on the other end of the line for a few agonizing seconds before his voice spiked with desperate relief. "You finally agree?

I told you your body couldn't handle it. We can try again when you're ready—" "I don't want to hear it, Evander.

You have exactly ten minutes to pull up to this front door, or I'm taking the Maybach to the hospital myself." I ended the call, my gaze dropping to my slightly swollen stomach with absolute coldness.

Ten minutes ago, I woke up in this bedroom with the entire plot of a twisted novel shoved into my skull. I wasn't carrying a miracle. I was carrying the ultimate pawn.

That reincarnated lunatic, Kinsey, was destined to brainwash him completely.

He wouldn't just hand over the billiondollar empire Evander and I bled to build—he would throw his own life away to be her personal meat shield.

And once Kinsey swallowed our wealth whole, she would kick Evander and me onto the streets like rotting trash. I refuse to breed my own destruction.

Chapter 1 A vicious spike of pain drove me back against the mattress. Alien memories breached my mind, ripping through my skull.

By the time the agonizing torrent subsided, I lay frozen, staring blankly at the ceiling. I had actually transmigrated into a novel called The Billionaire's Reborn Sweetheart.

And I wasn't the protagonist. I was the mother of the doomed supporting male lead.

The socalled "female lead" of this book, Kinsey, wasn't just some tragic heroine—she was a morally bankrupt psychopath.

In the future, she would systematically destroy my family and drive my fiercely devoted husband to a dead end.

She and her accomplices would even harvest my corneas and kidneys, treating my organs like sick trophies!

In the original plot, Kinsey's soul was forced to watch Blake and Chloe live happily ever after.

Her toxic resentment festered until a blinding light sent her back in time to when she was twelve years old. From that moment, she meticulously plotted her revenge.

She set her sights on the one man who had loved her obsessively in her past life: my unborn son, Wesley.

She planned to groom him—a boy twelve years her junior—until he trusted her implicitly.

Once he came of age, she would weaponize him to annihilate Blake and Chloe's corporate empire. Wesley's entire existence was destined to be a disposable tool.

He would hand over our company and willingly die for her, just so she could secure her twisted happily ever after.

We thought that after Wesley's death, she might at least take care of his grieving parents since she inherited the company. Instead, she didn't hesitate to throw us out.

She would simply sneer at us: "This is what he owed me. It's my compensation.

If you want to blame anyone, blame that precious adopted daughter you took in, and your darling son." The billiondollar empire Evander and I bled to build would be swallowed whole by that vicious woman.

My husband would die a gruesome death trying to protect me, and I—the formidable matriarch of our estate—would ultimately be kicked out of my own home, left to scavenge through rotting dumpsters just to survive!

In her final moments, my predecessor had choked on her own devastating regrets. She regretted not listening to her husband's pleas to terminate this pregnancy.

She regretted ever taking in that scheming, golddigging viper of an adopted daughter. She died cursing her own blind choices. A cold, mechanical calm washed over me.

I pushed myself upright and stared dead at my slightly swollen stomach. Without a fraction of hesitation, I grabbed the phone off the nightstand.

I pulled up the contact saved as "Evander" and hit call.

It barely rang before a deep, fiercely tense voice came through the line. "Honey, what's wrong?" "Evander," I said, my voice a dead flatline. "I agree with you.

We're terminating this pregnancy." Chapter 2 A massive bang echoed through the receiver, sounding exactly like a heavy conference room door being violently kicked open.

The man's breathing was ragged and frantic. "Stay in the bedroom. Do not move. I'm on my way!

Anyone who tries to stop me is getting blacklisted from Wall Street today!" In less than ten minutes, accompanied by the earsplitting screech of braking tires, Evander stormed into the bedroom.

Radiating a suffocating, frostbitten intensity, he grabbed me and crushed me fiercely against his chest. Meanwhile, on the other side of the city.

Inside a cramped, rundown apartment, a twelveyearold girl lay on a narrow bed. Cold sweat coated her forehead. Her eyes were squeezed shut, trapped in a turbulent nightmare.

Suddenly, her eyes snapped open. A sharp gasp ripped from her throat as she bolted upright.

The woman busy cooking in the kitchen heard the noise and stormed out, cursing loudly. "What are you screaming for, you wretched brat?

If you wake your brother up, I'll beat you half to death!" Right on cue, the piercing wail of a crying baby erupted through the thin walls.

Furious, the woman marched over and delivered a vicious slap right across the girl's face. Smack. "Look at you! All you do is cause trouble all day long.

What else are you even good for?" With that, she spun around, scooped up the infant, and began cooing to him softly. The girl sat frozen on the bed, her ears ringing from the blow.

When reality finally crashed back in, she scanned her surroundings closely. She scrambled off the bed and dashed over to the cracked mirror.

In the darkness, the girl stared at the immature, yet utterly twisted face in the mirror.

The corners of her mouth stretched into a spinechilling, grotesque curve. "I'm back… Evander's corporate empire, and all those arrogant, highandmighty fools… This time, every single bit of it belongs to me." Her freezing gaze shifted to the crying baby boy just feet away.

If she didn't desperately need to maintain the pathetic, victimized image of this frail body, she would grab that pillow right now and personally suffocate the annoying little bastard.

Her thoughts locked onto the boy who had loved her with a pathetic, obsessive devotion right up until her death in her previous life.

She slowly raised a hand, pressing it against her chest. At this point in time, he'll be born in just a few months, she calculated coldly. I will see him then.

This time, I'm going to manipulate every single variable perfectly. I will make everyone who destroyed me pay the ultimate price.

The woman holding the baby abruptly shot her a glare.

Reflexively, Kinsey shrank back, burying her neck to play the part. "You worthless brat, get in the kitchen and wash the vegetables!" the woman snarled. "Otherwise, you don't eat today!" She shot Kinsey one last venomous glare.

Kinsey's stomach let out a pathetic rumble. She rubbed her stomach, then obediently scurried into the kitchen to do as she was told.

The woman barking orders was her stepmother, Patty. Kinsey's biological mother had bolted with a shady construction foreman less than two months after giving birth.

Left to raise her alone, her father, Clifford, had dumped Kinsey at her grandmother's rural trailer park to go find work in the city.

A few years ago, Clifford finally made some decent money and came back to visit. That was when he crossed paths with Patty from the next town over.

They started dating, but Patty's parents furiously opposed the match. Clifford had baggage—he was a divorced single father. To them, he was a massive red flag.

The bitter standoff only ended when Clifford scraped together twenty thousand dollars in cash to pay off her parents' mounting debts. Only then did they sign off on the marriage.

Two years later, Patty gave birth to her precious son, Dylan. In the very beginning, Patty had actually tried.

She brought Kinsey to the city, enrolled her in a decent school, and tried to take care of her. But Kinsey had been a cold, impenetrable brick wall.

And then, when Patty was pregnant, an "accident" caused by Kinsey nearly made her miscarry.

From that exact moment on, Patty's patience evaporated, replaced by pure, unfiltered disgust.

Chapter 3 Evander's grip tightened around my hand, clutching it so fiercely it felt like he was terrified I might dissolve into thin air.

His piercing eyes, the same eyes that made Wall Street executives tremble, were heavily shot with blood. His voice was raw and dangerously low. "Don't be afraid.

Even if Death himself comes for you, I'll rip him apart." I tilted my head up, my gaze locking onto his face. This was Evander.

He stood tall and impossibly rigid, his broad shoulders and narrow waist forming a silhouette as immovable as a mountain.

His features were sharply carved—a high, aristocratic nose and a beautifully structured jawline.

But right now, the ferocity in his eyes was swallowed by a heavy, protective devotion. I stared at him, a volatile mix of emotions slamming into my chest.

The original Sloane's memories surged over me like a tidal wave—flashes of agonizing sweetness, bitter struggles, and suffocating pain.

He loved her with an intensity that verged on madness, and she had loved him back just as fiercely. It was a sick tragedy that they had been destined for such a gruesome end.

But since I was the one standing in these shoes now, the script was going to change. Starting right this very second. I looked dead into his eyes. "Relax.

I'm not going to let anything happen to me." My name was finally called. I stood up, and Evander instantly shadowed my steps as we headed toward the operating room.

Right as we hit the heavy surgical doors, he grabbed my hand again, pulling me back. I firmly swatted his hand away. "Enough.

Wait for me out here." Without giving him a single second to argue, I turned and walked straight through the doors.

Once I was on the table and the anesthesia hit my veins, I plunged into a deep, dreamless void.

At the exact moment the surgical team began extracting the tiny cluster of cells from my womb, Kinsey, miles away, gasped.

Her airway constricted as a phantom grip clamped around her throat. With every precise movement the doctors made, a needlesharp agony stabbed through her chest.

It was the exact same agonizing suffocation she had felt the moment she died in her previous life. She clawed desperately at her own chest, gasping for air.

When the final step of the procedure was completed, a deafening, metaphysical snap echoed in her soul. It was the sound of her safety net snapping.

Her small, frail body collapsed straight onto the hard floor.

As she lay paralyzed, the faint, golden aura of protagonist plot armor that had always surrounded her began to rapidly hemorrhage.

The golden light hemorrhaged into nothingness, violently draining out of her until only a pathetic twenty percent remained. Patty heard the heavy thud and rushed out of the bedroom.

Seeing the girl sprawled motionless on the floor, drenched in a cold sweat, she panicked.

She hauled Kinsey's dead weight up, dumped her onto the narrow bed, and immediately scrambled for her phone to call her husband.

The moment the call connected, she shrieked, "Clifford! Your worthless daughter just collapsed!

Get back here right now!" Clifford's voice crackled through the cheap speaker, thick with suspicion. "What happened? She was fine this morning.

How does someone just collapse?" Patty exploded. "Excuse me? Are you accusing me of doing something to her?

I still haven't settled the score with you over what she pulled last time, and you have the nerve to question me?" "Your precious son was sleeping perfectly fine until she started screaming like a banshee.

I was busy trying to calm your son down! All I did was tell her to wash some vegetables, and she drops to the floor like she's dying!

Is that my fault now?" Clifford instantly backed down, his tone placating. "Patty, baby, I didn't mean it like that. I'll tell my boss I need to leave right now.

Just calm down and make sure my boy is okay." Chapter 4 Clifford hung up, scrambled to get time off work, and rushed home.

Back at the hospital, the nurses cleaned me up and wheeled me out of the operating room. Evander was a rigid statue outside the doors.

The second they swung open, he closed the distance in three long strides, shadowing the medical staff as they moved me to a private suite.

They transferred me to the bed and gently roused me. Only after I fluttered my eyes open did the doctors and nurses finally exit, sealing us in.

The moment the door clicked shut, we were completely alone. Evander leaned over me. His searing breath brushed against my cheek as his lips desperately sought out my forehead.

I jerked my head away, my voice dropping to absolute zero. "Don't touch me." Are you kidding me? This obsessive devotion belonged to the original Sloane.

I absolutely refused to play the thief and steal another woman's husband. Evander froze midmotion.

His piercing gaze locked onto mine for a long, heavy second before a low, breathless chuckle slipped from his chest. "I'll go get you something to eat." Without another word, he turned and strode out of the room.

I watched his broad back disappear down the hall. The second he was out of sight, a heavy exhale pushed past my lips.

The lingering anesthesia dragged my consciousness down, pulling me right back into the dark.

The moment Evander stepped out of the hospital's main entrance, he nearly collided with a frantic man sprinting toward the doors with a young girl in his arms.

A woman trailed closely behind him, clutching a wailing infant to her chest. It was Clifford and Patty.

Just as Evander brushed past them, the seemingly unconscious girl in Clifford's arms violently snapped her eyes open. Kinsey's pupils dilated.

She shakily reached out a frail hand toward Evander's retreating figure, desperate to grab hold of something.

But they were both moving too fast—one ruthless billionaire rushing to feed his wife, and one desperate father rushing to save his kid. Kinsey's fingers closed around empty air.

Her arm dropped heavily in bitter defeat. Her chapped lips parted to scream, but no sound came out.

She could only stare with venomous, obsessive eyes at Evander's disappearing silhouette. In a blink, he was gone.

The metaphysical blow of missing her target struck her so hard her eyes rolled to the back of her head, and she blacked out again.

Back in the sterile quiet of the hospital suite, I plummeted into a vivid dream. A figure in a flowing white dress stood directly in front of me, her back turned.

Staring at her silhouette, a chill crawled up my spine. I'm in a hospital. Is this some kind of cliché haunting? Even knowing it was a dream, a primal spike of dread hit my stomach.

My brain immediately spiraled into overdrive, flashing through every horror trope imaginable—vengeful maternity ward ghosts, traffic accident victims, suicidal teenagers.

My imagination was running completely rampant. Forcing my feet to move, I approached her. When I was barely ten feet away, she abruptly spun around. I jerked back on sheer instinct.

But as my eyes adjusted and locked onto her face, my breath hitched. Holy shit. It was me. Or rather, it was the original Sloane. I stared at her, and she stared right back.

After a heavy, loaded silence, I opened my mouth to say something, but she beat me to it.

A serene, weightless smile curved her lips. "Thank you." I was about to ask her what she meant, but she suddenly glanced over her shoulder into the pitchblack void.

I followed her gaze, but there was nothing but thick, suffocating darkness. Her voice echoed again, frail but crystal clear. "Master, my time is almost up.

I'm going to go find my parents now. I've gone my whole life without knowing what they look like." Chapter 5 She turned to face me.

Tears spilled from her eyes, rolling down her cheeks before morphing into a blinding orb of light that shot straight into the center of my forehead. "I'm leaving," her voice echoed in my skull. "Love him for me.

Remember… you are me, and I am you." A faint light ignited in the distance, and in a blink, she was swallowed by it. I stood paralyzed, panic clawing up my throat.

By the time my brain kickstarted, she was already fading hundreds of feet away. "What do you mean, love him for you?!" I sprinted after her, absolute fury breaking my paralysis. "What do you mean we are the same person?

If you leave, how the hell do I get back?!" "Get back here! He's your husband, not mine! Love him yourself!

I'm not taking another woman's husband!" But the blinding light consumed her, erasing her from the void.

The sheer terror of being permanently trapped in this unfamiliar life slammed into my chest, violently ripping me from the dream. I gasped for air, snapping my eyes open to reality.

The second my vision blurred into focus, a searing heat pressed against my left cheek. Someone was kissing me. Pure, unfiltered adrenaline hijacked my brain.

Without even looking, I swung my right hand hard. Smack. "Who the hell told you to kiss me?!" I snapped, my heart hammering against my ribs.

The man froze, stunned by the physical blow. As my vision sharpened, the blood instantly drained from my face. Oh, shit.

I had just backhanded this body's obscenely wealthy, obsessive husband.

Evander. "I… I'm so sorry," I stammered, scrambling to deescalate. "I had a nightmare." The hostility drained from his rigid frame instantly.

His piercing eyes softened into something intensely vulnerable before a fierce, almost suffocating protectiveness took over.

He grabbed my arm, pulling me flush against his hard chest. "It's okay, baby. I'm right here," his voice rumbled, dangerously thick and heavy. "No one is ever going to hurt you.

It was just a dream. I've got you." His large hand rubbed soothing, rhythmic circles into my back. I shoved against his chest, but he was an immovable brick wall.

After a long, agonizingly tight hold, he finally released me, turning to grab the food he had brought.

My throat felt like sandpaper. "Can I get some water?" I asked, breaking the heavy tension. "I'm really thirsty." He grabbed an empty glass without a fraction of hesitation. "Give me a second.

I'll be right back." He spun around and strode out of the room, leaving the door cracked open.

The sharp, grating sound of an argument instantly drifted in from the corridor. "I told you we didn't need to do a fullbody checkup!

A simple blood test would have been fine, but no, you had to insist!" A woman's shrill, biting voice echoed through the gap. "Now look!

You barely make anything in a month, we have a whole family to feed, and you just blew over two grand!" A man immediately tried to placate her, his tone low and completely submissive. "Patty, she's my daughter too.

It's just this one time. I promise, next time I'll listen to you." Chapter 6 I couldn't hear the rest of their argument because Evander walked back into the room.

He shut the door, instantly severing the noise from the hallway.

I tried to sit up, but his warm palm pressed against my shoulder before I could even lift my head. "Don't move," he commanded softly.

He walked to the side of the bed and adjusted the controls, raising the headboard so I could lean back comfortably. Only then did he hand me the glass of water.

After I finished drinking, he reached for the food he had brought. "Did you eat yet?" I asked.

He scooped up a spoonful of rich chicken broth and brought it to my lips. "You eat first. I'll eat later." The doctor's postop instructions suddenly flashed through my mind.

I looked at him, feeling a bit awkward. "Actually, I forgot to tell you. The doctor said I can't eat anything right after the surgery." Evander paused.

He silently lowered the spoon and set the bowl back down on the nightstand. Just then, the door clicked open, and a nurse stepped into the room. "Mr.

Evander, the head doctor would like to see you in his office." "I'll be right back. Get some rest," Evander said. He stood up and strode out of the room.

Once he was gone, my mind started spinning. Evander and the original Sloane were obscenely wealthy.

How exactly did Kinsey manage to groom Wesley, a boy twelve years younger than her? I dug through the novel's plotlines shoved into my brain.

After piecing the fragments together, it finally clicked. The maid working for Evander and Sloane had quit right before Sloane gave birth.

When Evander started hiring replacement staff, Kinsey's stepmother, Patty, had just dumped her newborn on her motherinlaw to go job hunting.

She saw the hiring notice for the estate. The astronomical salary on the flyer lured Patty in, and she snagged a job as a maid in the villa.

Kinsey, carrying memories from her past life, instantly recognized the golden opportunity.

She started showing up at the estate after school every single day, pretending to help her stepmother with chores.

Gradually, she wormed her way into becoming Wesley's default playmate. Back then, Sloane and Evander were entirely consumed by their expanding corporate empire.

They didn't pay any attention to the seemingly harmless girl hanging around. And that fatal oversight led to their gruesome end.

Right as I was mentally dissecting the plot, Evander returned. Without a single word of warning, he scooped me up into his arms.

I gasped, instinctively grabbing his broad shoulders. "Evander, what are you doing?" "We're leaving," he stated flatly. "Wait, didn't the doctor say I needed to stay for observation for a few days?" I asked, completely thrown off. "We have doctors at home," he replied, not even breaking his stride as he carried me down the hall.

Outside the hospital, a sleek black Maybach idled right at the entrance.

The moment we approached, the man inside immediately stepped out from the driver's seat and pulled the rear door wide open. I recognized Evander's driver.

Dressed in a crisp suit, he offered a respectful smile and a slight bow. "Sir, Ma'am. Please," the driver said, his voice smooth and professional. Evander gave a curt nod.

He set me down gently, his hand firmly guiding my back as I slid into the leather seat. The driver shut the door, circled back to the front, and started the engine.

The car pulled away from the hospital, smoothly merging into traffic as we headed home. I leaned back against the plush seat, watching the city blur past the tinted windows.

The car navigated the winding, scenic roads, and half an hour later, we arrived. The Maybach rolled through the towering iron gates of a sprawling, luxurious estate.

The grounds were meticulously manicured, bursting with vibrant greenery and flower beds. The car finally came to a stop in front of the massive main doors of the villa.

The moment I stepped out, a rich blend of floral scents washed over me. It was intoxicating, like stepping straight into an impossibly perfect utopia.

Evander really loved her, I thought, a strange, heavy ache settling in my chest.

I couldn't fathom how the original Sloane had the heart to just let go of a man like this and fade away.

Chapter 7 I barely lifted my foot toward the grand entrance before Evander beat me to it, effortlessly scooping me into his arms again.

I pushed against his chest. "Don't move," he commanded softly, his long legs carrying us straight over the threshold. I glanced around the sprawling foyer.

Every meticulously chosen detail reflected the original Sloane's exquisite taste. In the distance, a maid noticed us. "Mr. Evander, Ma'am, welcome home," she greeted.

I looked toward the voice. The second my eyes locked onto her face, a volatile, explosive rage ignited in my chest, completely unprompted.

It was a suffocating hatred, strong enough to burn the woman to ash. This was Martha, the estate's livein maid. She was Kinsey's biological mother.

Her original, sickening plan had been to give birth at the exact same time as Sloane and swap the infants.

But Sloane's fragile health had triggered a premature delivery at exactly thirtyfive weeks.

The baby was immediately rushed to the NICU, keeping him safely locked in an incubator and entirely derailing Martha's twisted scheme.

But when Martha gave birth to a girl, her misogynistic disgust pushed her to abandon the child.

Knowing Sloane was sickeningly softhearted, Martha deliberately dumped the newborn on the exact path Sloane took for her daily walks.

When Sloane found a freezing baby wrapped in pathetic rags, her bleeding heart took over. She brought the child home.

Exactly as Martha calculated, when the police couldn't track down the biological parents, Sloane legally adopted her.

The first time Evander looked at that baby, he aggressively refused to take her in. He possessed a ruthless instinct for parasites.

But he could never withstand Sloane's relentless pleading and tears. Against his better judgment, he caved, bringing the abandoned child into his empire as their adopted daughter.

With two infants in the house, the primary childcare duties naturally fell to Martha.

Once Kinsey was old enough to comprehend language, Martha spent years systematically brainwashing her own daughter in the shadows, grooming her into the viper that would ultimately destroy this family.

Evander didn't even grant the maid a fraction of his attention. He carried me straight up the sweeping staircase.

Inside the master suite, he gently lowered me onto the silk sheets. "Stay right here," he instructed. "I'll get you something to eat." Downstairs, Evander unbuttoned the collar of his dress shirt, sitting on the plush sofa like an utterly emotionless tyrant.

Before Martha could even open her mouth to speak, he slammed a blank check directly into her face. "Get the hell out of my house.

If you ever dare step foot within a fivemile radius of this estate again, I will personally make sure you never find employment in this lifetime." All the color drained from Martha's face.

She knew Evander's decisions were final. Trembling, she scurried off to pack her pathetic belongings.

After she was thrown out, Evander summoned the private physician to thoroughly examine me before finally allowing me to stomach a bowl of warm broth.

Once Evander finished his calls, I scanned the room. We were completely alone.

I dragged in a ragged breath, my fingernails digging so deeply into the edge of my blanket that the knuckles turned white. My heart hammered against my ribs like a caged animal.

Evander sat directly across from me.

His dark, piercing gaze was locked onto my face, heavy and intense, as if he could peel back my skin and see straight through my pathetic disguise. "Evander, the truth is, I…" I opened my mouth, but the words snagged violently in my throat.

I couldn't force them out. A slight furrow appeared between his brows, the dangerous edge in his eyes immediately replaced by a heavy, protective concern. "What's wrong?

Are you in pain?" His voice was dark velvet, so obscenely gentle it made my stomach twist with nauseating guilt. That absolute devotion belonged to the original Sloane.

It did not belong to me—the imposter who hijacked her body and stole her life.

I gritted my teeth, forcing the suffocating confession past my lips. "The truth is… I'm not your wife." Chapter 8