I Signed the Divorce Papers with a Smile—Now He’s the One Begging

When I awoke to this second life, the moment hung heavy with the echo of Ryan Carter’s second demand for divorce. I, Elena Voss, didn’t falter. With a steady hand, I seized the pen and scrawled my name across the divorce agreement, my heart a fortress of resolve. Ryan, heir to the sprawling Carter Enterprises, stood oblivious to the storm brewing on his horizon. A year hence, betrayal from his top executives would plunge the corporation into a financial abyss. Rival sharks would circle, his mind would fracture under the strain, and the empire would crumble into bankruptcy. The once-mighty Ryan would descend to a basement existence, subsisting on instant noodles, a shadow of his former glory.

In my past life, I had adored him with a fervor that blinded me. I’d vowed to stand by him through ruin, content with love alone. Yet, even stripped of wealth, his heart clung to his first love, Celeste Arden. Pregnant and labeled high-risk, I awaited his signature as doctors hovered. He abandoned me for Celeste’s child—a mere cold—leaving me to die on the operating table with our unborn child. That betrayal fueled my rebirth’s clarity.

“Celeste, stop fussing. Just sign it,” Ryan’s voice cut through, calm yet detached. “I know you’ve wasted your youth on me. I won’t leave you destitute—financial security beyond most people’s dreams is yours.” His initial guilt morphed into condescension, as if bestowing a charity. I, a girl from a modest background, had loved him since high school when he rescued me from bullies, a godlike figure in my eyes. His heart, though, belonged to Celeste, who’d left him for abroad. In spite, he married me. I embraced it, believing my devotion would one day thaw his heart. For over eight years—nearly 3,000 days—I nurtured him, supported his rise, even donated a kidney after his bankruptcy-induced despair ruined his health. Yet, when Celeste returned, divorced and tearful, he forgave her instantly, thrusting divorce papers before me.

In that first life, I’d recoiled, refusing to sign. A month later, his guilt softened the terms—$2 million more, a mid-levels villa, and two 3,000-square-foot commercial properties in the city’s premier shopping district. I clung to him, ignoring his growing harshness, until bankruptcy silenced his divorce pleas. I stood alone through his darkest days, but as he rebuilt, he raced back to Celeste. My death—child and all—left me wondering if he ever regretted it.

Now, reborn, I smiled sincerely. “Thank you, Mr. Carter, for elevating an ordinary soul like me to wealth overnight.” His puzzled look betrayed his doubt as I scrutinized the agreement. Beyond the properties, a $1 million annual allowance tempted me, but Carter Enterprises’ impending collapse rendered future payments hollow. “No yearly allowance,” I declared. “Give me $50 million in one lump sum.” Ryan froze. “You’re 29—51 more years…” he began. “Round it down,” I interrupted. His face darkened, but he relented. “Any other requests?” he asked. I feigned heartbreak. “I gave you my youth for Shane Le. Will you regret this?” Celeste’s recent divorce had her clinging to Ryan, playing the victim. His guilt flickered but hardened. “I don’t love you. Celeste needs me,” he said. I sobbed, masking my glee as his secretary adjusted the terms.

Tears streaming, I slammed the papers down. “Sign now! We go to the Civil Affairs office immediately!” Ryan, believing my tantrum, signed swiftly, fearing I’d back out. As we prepared to leave, his phone rang—Celeste’s panicked voice about her son Emmy’s allergic reaction. “I have to go,” he said, urgency drowning his apology. Fury ignited me. “We’re divorcing, not shopping! You’re leaving for her again?” I snapped. “Emmy’s a child without a father—have compassion,” he sighed, exiting with his secretary. I grabbed the papers and followed, squeezing into his car. “I’m checking if Emmy’s dying or if this is her trick,” I smirked.

The hospital revealed Celeste and Emmy, unscathed—mild rashes, no collapse. Celeste’s dramatic embrace of Ryan fueled my rage. Memories of my lost child surged, and I slapped her, again and again, yanking her hair. Ryan, stunned, intervened. “Sophia, are you insane?” he roared, raising his hand. I shouted, “Look at these scumbags! Hitting your wife for her?” Cameras flashed—reporters I’d tipped off captured it. Ryan froze, damage control kicking in. “This is a misunderstanding,” he pleaded. I sneered, exposing Celeste’s past—her ex’s paternity test proving Emmy’s illegitimacy. The crowd gasped; Celeste paled.

Ryan’s fury peaked. “Shut up! Slander her again, and I won’t be polite!” Security dispersed the crowd, but I played my card. “I didn’t mean it—let’s divorce now,” I whimpered. Celeste urged Ryan, “Get it over with!” He nodded, dragging me to the car. At the Civil Affairs office, Ryan realized he’d left the papers. I produced them, his suspicion rising. “Second thoughts?” I taunted. He signed forcefully, and the stamp freed me. Assets awaited transfer, but I guarded against his retraction.

“Take the assets and leave me be,” Ryan said coldly. I nodded, overhearing his order to suppress the news. I smirked—evidence lingered for a future scandal. Next day, his secretary efficiently transferred the villa, properties, and $90 million. I invested $50 million in a stock I’d researched in my past life, cashing out at $1 billion two months later. Free, I traveled, ignoring Ryan and Celeste’s marriage headlines.

Ryan’s mother, Mrs. Liang, summoned me, disdainful. “You let Shane steal him. Return—I’ll support you.” I laughed. “I didn’t want him. You deserve her scheming.” I left a USB of Celeste’s secrets. To the media, I sent another copy. Months later, I returned as Carter Enterprises fell. Ryan, haggard, confronted me with men fawning over me. He punched one; retaliation bloodied him. “You can’t live without me?” he sneered. I smirked, “Leaving you was my triumph.” He threatened revenge, but I dismissed him.

Then, Quinn Shaw’s arms enveloped me. “Had your fun? You promised to marry me.” Panic seized me—this American tycoon I’d provoked overseas loomed dangerously. I’d mistaken him for a model, fleeing after a drunken night. Now caught, I stammered, “It was a mistake—I’m ordinary.” His grip tightened. “Break our agreement?” I shook my head. “Good choice,” he purred. Years later, our grand wedding dazzled the city. Carter Enterprises collapsed; Celeste divorced Ryan, sold to a villager. Ryan, starving, dreamed of my smile on a screen, arrested for trafficking. I, with Quinn, reigned supreme, my past a distant shadow.