Reborn as the Billionaire’s Secret Affair
Delia · Ongoing · 25 Chapters
About this book
Eleanor Knight thought her fairytale marriage to Sebastian Sinclair would last forever—until his endless affairs shattered her illusions. When a slap from his latest mistress becomes the final straw, Eleanor files for divorce, armed with a prenup and a plan to reclaim her life. But freedom comes with complications: a fiery young admirer, Lucas Chase, crashes into her world, promising a love that burns brighter than betrayal. As Sebastian fights to win her back with empty promises, Eleanor navigates a dangerous game of hearts. Will she succumb to the toxic cycle of her past, or dare to embrace a future with a man whose devotion challenges everything she thought she knew about love?
Chapter 1
"Sebastian, I miss you so much~" The sugary voice on the phone dripped with coquetry. Eleanor Knight pushed the prenup agreement across the table with an impassive expression.
"Sebastian Sinclair, we’re getting a divorce."
Her voice was soft, yet it sliced through the thick air like a sharp blade.
Sebastian didn’t even glance up. His long fingers scrawled his signature across the last page of the document with practiced ease, as if signing a check.
"Sweetheart, I’ll be right there," he murmured into the phone before hanging up and tossing the file onto the coffee table. "What is it this time, Babe? Another penthouse?"
Eleanor stared at his indifferent profile and suddenly found it laughable.
In his eyes, she would always resort to buying property to vent her emotions.
"It’s a divorce agreement," she enunciated slowly.
Sebastian’s hands paused on his tie before he chuckled. "Don’t be ridiculous. I’m in a hurry. Isabella Whitlock is throwing a tantrum—I need to go smooth things over."
He turned to leave but glanced back as if remembering something. "Oh, and next week’s my mother’s birthday. Don’t forget a gift."
The moment the door clicked shut, Eleanor finally laughed.
How ironic.
The boy who once set off fireworks for her couldn’t even be bothered to hear her out now.
She remembered the day they met—Sebastian, drunk and slumped outside a bar, and her offering him a bottle of water. When he looked up, his eyes had sparkled like starlight.
"I’m Sebastian Sinclair," he’d said with a grin. "You’re beautiful."
Later, the whole city knew the infamous playboy had fallen for Eleanor Knight. He quit partying, gave up smoking, and even stayed up all night massaging her stomach during her cramps.
At their wedding, his eyes had been red-rimmed as he vowed, "Babe, you’re the only one for me."
But promises faded faster than echoes.
By the third month of their marriage, Sebastian stopped coming home. At first, he made excuses. Eventually, he couldn’t even be bothered to lie.
"Eleanor, don’t be so dramatic," he’d muttered, loosening his tie. "It’s just harmless fun."
Then she saw him at a hotel, his arm wrapped around a model’s waist.
