I Married the Right Woman After Rebirth

My eyes snapped open, and just like that, I was back—right back to the day my mother demanded I pick a wife.

The scene was painfully familiar.

There she was, perched stiffly on her mahogany chair, a list clutched in her hand. Her eyes cut through me like knives, sharp and full of command.

"Choose one," she said, shoving the paper toward me.

Three names. Each one stood for a powerful family. This wasn't just a choice—it was the decision that would shape my entire life.

Last time, I went with Sophia Lowell.

She seemed gentle, came from a good name. I thought it was the safe bet.

Turns out, her heart belonged to somebody else. She married me for her family's gain, not for love. We spent ten long years in a cold, polite stalemate—until the day her affair blew up in my face.

I became the joke of the city. Our family's reputation crumbled. My mother got sick from the shame, and she died full of regret.

But now… now I had a second chance.

"I'm not choosing any of them, Mother."

Her brows pinched together. "What did you just say?"

"I want to marry for love."

She shot to her feet. "Don't be absurd! Marriage isn't some fairy tale!"

I held her gaze. "That's exactly why I won't settle."

Her face went pale. She hadn't seen this coming—not from me.

"Do you have any idea what you're throwing away?"

"I do," I said, calm and steady. "But I'd rather live with that than a lifetime of regret."

She stared, trying to read me like one of her ledgers.

Just then, the butler rushed in. "Madam, Miss Sophia is here."

A smirk tugged at my lips. Right on time.

Sophia glided into the room wearing an elegant cheongsam, all soft steps and softer smiles.

"Auntie," she greeted sweetly, before her eyes flicked to me.

That gentle act had fooled me once. Not again.

"Sophia, perfect timing," my mother said warmly. "We were just discussing marriage."

Sophia dipped her head demurely. "I trust your judgment completely, Auntie."

What a performance.

I cut in. "Miss Sophia, isn't there a childhood sweetheart in the picture? Julian Evans, from the southern Evans family?"

Her smile cracked. My mother froze.

"How… how could you know that?" Sophia's voice wavered.

My mother turned to her, eyes narrowing. "Sophia, is this true?"

"No—it's not like that—" she stammered, but her panic said everything.

"Shall I invite Julian over? We can ask him together," I pressed.

She stumbled back, knocking a teacover off the table. It shattered on the floor—just like her perfect image.

My mother slammed a hand on the table. "How dare the Lowells try to deceive us!"

Sophia fled without another word.

Mother sank back into her chair, defeated. "You knew?"

"I had my suspicions," I said lightly.

She sighed heavily. "I've been a fool."

Then came candidate number two.

Aurora Valence burst into the room wearing a Western dress, all energy and audacity.

"Auntie! I heard you're picking a bride!" She looped her arm through mine. "Pick me—you won't regret it!"

In another life, I fell for that boldness. Later, I learned she only wanted access to our mines. She nearly spent us into ruin.

I slipped my arm free. "Miss Aurora, I heard you lost thirty thousand dollars at the tables recently."

Her grin stiffened. "Who told you that nonsense?"

"Should I show you the signed IOU?"

Color drained from her face. "That—that was my cousin's debt!"

"Your cousin left town yesterday," I replied coolly. "I can tell you exactly where to find the people he owes."

She looked at me like I'd seen straight through her soul—and ran.

My mother was speechless. She just stared.

The third candidate never even showed. Word was she'd suddenly fallen ill. I knew the truth—she'd heard what happened and backed out.

My mother massaged her temples. "Happy now?"

"Very."

"Then who will it be?"

"I already have someone in mind."

She blinked. "Who?"

"Miss Evelyn Carter."

Her face tightened. "That faded family? Her father's a cripple—"

"Exactly," I cut in. "She's the one I want."

In my last life, after everything fell apart, Evelyn was the only one who came for me. She dug my grave with her bare hands in the pouring rain. That's when I realized—she'd loved me all along, quietly, for ten years.

"She's not suitable," my mother insisted. "The families don't match."

"I will marry her."

We stood in stalemate until she finally stormed out. "You'll regret this!"

I almost laughed.

Regret?

The only thing I'd ever regret is not choosing her sooner.

I called for the carriage. It was time to meet my bride.

The Carter estate was even more worn-down than I remembered. Peeling walls, a silent courtyard. I knocked using the tarnished brass ring.

The door opened to a slender girl in simple clothes, no makeup. Her eyes were dark and clear, like glass under water.

"Can I help you?" Her voice was soft, almost shy.

For a moment, I couldn't speak. It was her—just as I remembered, gentle and sorrowful all at once.

"Miss Evelyn?" I finally said.

She nodded, confused. "Do I know you?"

"I've come to propose."

She stilled, fingers twisting in the fabric of her dress. "Sir… you must be mistaken."

"No mistake," I said, holding her gaze. "I'm here for you, Evelyn Carter."

Her ears turned pink. She looked like a startled rabbit. "I—I should get my father—"

She turned to go, but I gently caught her wrist. "I mean it."

She trembled but didn't pull away.

A cough came from inside. "Evelyn, who's there?"

She slipped from my grip. "A… gentleman, Father."

I followed her in. Her father sat in a wheelchair, thin but sharp-eyed.

"I'm Sebastian Roscente. I'd like to ask for your daughter's hand."

He studied me. "The Roscente family?"

"Yes."

"Why her? Our name means nothing now."

"Because she's worth everything."

He was quiet, then smiled faintly. "Your mother won't allow it."

"I'll convince her."

"How?"

I went down on one knee and took Evelyn's hand. She flinched but didn't let go.

"With sincerity."

Tears glistened in Evelyn's eyes.

Her father sighed. "If you ever hurt her—"

"Strike me down where I stand."

Three words, solid as stone.

Evelyn finally lifted her eyes to mine. And in that look, I knew—she believed me.

This time, the story would be different.

I returned home to find my mother fuming.

"You went to the Carters?"

"Yes."

She smashed a teacup. "Are you trying to disgrace this family?"

I glanced at the broken pieces. "You'll see, Mother. You'll be proud."

"Proud of what? A daughter-in-law who brings nothing?"

"She will be the finest Mrs. Roscente this family has ever known."

My mother scoffed. "With a crippled father and a dead family name?"