Owen's POV
The aroma of freshly brewed coffee lingered in the air as I sat alone by the window, fingers wrapped around the warm ceramic cup. Rain tapped softly on the glass, a steady rhythm that let my thoughts wander deeper.
William Yates... that bastard.
I clenched my jaw, recalling everything that man had done. Married Owen's mother for love—or so she believed. Used her na and money to build his empire, then tossed her aside when she was no longer "useful." And what for? A mistress. Lexi. And a golden child nad Andrew.
"Pathetic..." I muttered under my breath.
In the first life, karma waited patiently. Lexi and Andrew turned their backs on William the mont things crumbled. The empire he'd stolen fell apart, and he died a nobody—no love, no legacy.
In the second life, Owen changed everything. He didn't just let it slide—he tore everything William built brick by brick. Lexi was ruined. Andrew? He never even rose. But the part that still puzzled most... was Yvette.
I swirled the coffee slowly, watching the spiral like it might give answers.
Yvette Jennings...
A woman who publicly declared her disdain for Owen. Called him a simp, a parasite, a weakling. But still... she invested in William's business. Her wealth—on par with the Nocturnes—funneled into the Yates family. Not out of love, but because of a vow. A promise.
Even when she was cold. Even when she belittled him. She never cheated. Never once crossed that line. Not even with Randall, the man she called her Prince Charming.
"She may have hated Owen..." I muttered. "But she was loyal. Loyal in her own twisted, prideful way."
It hurt to admit, but it was true.
I leaned back in my seat, letting the thoughts run wild.
Original Owen, in his rebirth, had the chance to relive his marriage. And he didn't cling—he cut ties. He let her go, let her pursue Randall. He didn't try to change her anymore. And yet...
Why?
Why didn't she divorce him in the second life?
She could have. Should have. Hell, it would've been the easiest way out. But instead... she stayed. Distant, silent, cold—but present.
Was it guilt? Obligation? Or sothing deeper that neither of them ever had the courage to face?
I let out a long sigh and took a sip.
"She was never ant to love him," I whispered. "Her loyalty belonged to a dream... not to the man beside her."
Still, the thought lingered like a weight in my chest.
Even the coldest woman I knew... still kept her vows.
Even when she looked down on Owen... she never left him.
Even when she had Randall... she waited.
Maybe it wasn't love.
Maybe it was her pride.
Maybe she was just waiting for Owen to walk away first...
I closed my eyes.
And he did.
He let her go, because he wanted her to be happy.
But damn... what a ss.
I looked out at the rainy street. The world was different now. I was not Owen Yates. Not the original. Not the simp. Not the husband. I was soone else. Sothing else.
But still... those mories, those questions—they echoed.
And one day... I'll et her again.
Yvette Jennings.
And when I do?
I'll ask her that question myself.
"Why didn't you let him go?"
And I'll be ready—if it turns into war.
________________________________________
I sighed, the city lights outside flickering like echoes of a past I didn't live but carried the burden of.
This world... this novel... It's nothing like the other ones. Not the one where the Heavenly Demon transmigrated into the pitiful life of Samuel Gebb.
Samuel Gebb... that tragic excuse of a male lead.
I still rember how our dorms fell into silence when we all read that novel back in college. Even as students, it made our stomachs twist. That poor bastard—his wife, Abigail Bardot, didn't just cheat on him. No, she invited n into their marital bed. Told him—Ordered him—to warm the bathwater for her lovers. Told him to fetch condoms like a goddamn servant in his own house.
"What the hell was the author thinking?" I muttered, shaking my head, still bitter about it.
It wasn't even fiction at that point—it was emotional execution. A psychological horror disguised as romance. Samuel Gebb was the type of guy who looked like he'd been dead inside since page one.
And then... the Heavenly Demon ca.
He didn't just change the story—he burned it.
He tore down Abigail. Crushed Bardot Industries. Made every scumbag character beg for death. And honestly? None of us blad him. We knew what he'd gone through in our real world. More than any of us, he had suffered. The original Samuel's story had infected his mind like poison—and it made him loathe the very idea of love and marriage.
That was his world.
This is mine.
I took a deep breath.
But my situation... Yvette Jennings... it's different.
She's not like Abigail Bardot.
Hell, she's not even like Katerina Maa.
Yvette... she's sothing else entirely.
The cold, composed Business Prodigy who took over her family empire by the ti she was twenty-three. She didn't have to scream or seduce or act like a spoiled little princess to get her way. She didn't flaunt her power—it radiated from her like a storm you could never prepare for.
And for all her flaws... she was loyal.
Yvette Jennings didn't need n to fill her bed or chase after her. She didn't need late-night rendezvous or whispered flings to feel alive. For her, love wasn't a plaything. It was a vow. And once given... she never broke it.
I stared into my coffee, watching the reflection of the ceiling lights ripple.
Abigail cheated and laughed while doing it.
Katerina used her marriage like a shield while sleeping with her bodyguards.
But Yvette?
Yvette waited.
Even when Owen—original Owen—was nothing but a background character in her glamorous world. Even when she had Randall, the man she truly admired, standing right there. She never crossed the line. Never once.
She wasn't warm. She wasn't kind. But she was disciplined.
Her pride was carved from steel. Her loyalty? Unshakeable. She may have looked down on Owen, but as long as that ring was on her finger, she held to her vows like a code of honor.
And that made her dangerous.
Because she wasn't a woman who needed saving. She wasn't a damsel. She was a damn queen who never bowed.
That's the difference.
Abigail Bardot begged for chaos.
Katerina thrived in manipulation.
Yvette Jennings? She was a storm in silence—silent, cold, and bound to her code.
And maybe that's why she still haunts .
Because unlike Samuel or Henry, whose wives were easy to burn and forget, Yvette left a scar.
Not because she loved. But because she could have, if the world had been just a little bit different.
And now, as I sit here sipping coffee under a false na in a life not ant to be mine... I can't help but wonder.
What would've happened if Owen had been stronger the first ti?
Would she have ever looked his way... not with scorn, but respect?
I shook my head. No point in thinking about it now.
I'm not him.
And she'll never know who I really am.
But even still...
She's not soone you forget.
Not soone you dismiss.
Because Yvette Jennings may not have loved Owen...
But she never betrayed him either.
And in a world full of lies, that's worth more than love itself.
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