Watch Your Empire Fall This Life

In this life, I am still the executive assistant. My boss is still the girl I grew up with.

In my last life, when the boy who hung the moon in her sky handed her a joint venture proposal, I quietly intercepted it and turned it down behind her back.

As a result, she made my life a living hell, systematically destroying everything I cared about until my family was left with nothing.

When the fatal car crash finally took my life, she stood over my broken body, gave a soft, dismissive laugh, and whispered, "If there's a next life, stay out of my business."

Now, I am breathing again. And when that same proposal crosses my desk, I don't reject it. I hand it right to her.

Not long after, her empire crumbles into bankruptcy.

And I turn around, walking straight into the arms of my billionaire father.

01

"Catherine, this is the development proposal from Wesley Hawthorne."

I watched as Catherine Dupont, who had been wearing her usual icy CEO mask, suddenly lit up, her hands trembling slightly as she took the portfolio from me.

The only reason she was this excited was because Wesley was her ultimate "what-if"the golden boy she had spent her entire adolescence pining for, the one who always managed to slip through her fingers.

But looking at the reality of the situation, Hawthorne Industries and the Dupont Group were apex predators in the same sector. They were fierce competitors. Not to mention, Wesley hadn't bothered to initiate contact with Catherine in over a decade.

For him to suddenly extend an olive branch out of the blue anyone with a shred of business acumen would pause to look for the poison on the leaves.

"Wesley actually reached out to me? Elliot, hurry up, schedule a meeting for us to sign the paperwork."

Catherines face was glowing. She was entirely incapable of sitting down to weigh the pros and cons.

If this were my previous life, I would have spoken up to stop her.

After all, childhood loyalties are nothing but loose sand in the face of corporate greed. People change.

I did exactly that in my last life.

And she screamed at me, her face twisted in rage. "Elliot, do you think everyone in the world is as cold-blooded and ungrateful as you are?!"

"If Wesley hadn't pulled me out of that lake when we were kids, I would have died!"

I knew she was blindly devoted to him. The more I tried to reason with her, the more she hated me. So, I took the hit. I went behind her back and formally rejected the partnership.

I didn't do it out of jealousy. I didn't care that she loved him instead of me.

I did it because that "partnership" was a ticking time bomb Wesley had custom-built to blow the Dupont Group to pieces.

Before I died in my last life, I never regretted what I did, even when Catherine found out, threw apocalyptic tantrums, and made my daily existence an absolute nightmare.

At the very least, the Dupont Group survived. Catherine was her father's first female heir, appointed against the immense pressure of their conservative board. Everyone was waiting for her to fail. Everyone wanted to see the empire burn in her hands.

I couldn't bear to see her break. So I volunteered to be her right hand, her shield.

The price I paid was agonizing.

I became the unforgivable villain in her love story, the obstacle keeping her from Wesley. My adopted family lost their jobs because of her petty retaliation.

And the most pathetic part? I took the impact in that car crash to save her life.

As I lay dying, she smiled down at me. "With you gone, Elliot, there's nothing standing between Wesley and me anymore. If theres a next life, do yourself a favor and leave me alone."

Only after I died did I realize that the crash was never an accident. It was her plan.

A plan to eradicate me.

Now, Ive been given a second chance. Since Catherine doesn't care about protecting her own legacy, why should I?

Everyone has their own fate. This time, I will not entangle myself in her karma.

If she wants a happily-ever-after with Wesley so desperately, I will personally hand her the bitter fruit shes begging for.

After all, you reap what you sow.

To help my boss pluck the moon from the sky as quickly as possible, I played the role of the dutiful assistant to perfection.

I didn't waste a single second. I immediately contacted Wesley's office and locked in an afternoon slot to discuss the terms.

In the fifteen minutes between those calls, I pulled out a piece of paper I had memorizeda private investigator's tip-line attached to a multi-million dollar reward for a missing heir. I dialed the number.

"Hello," I said, my voice steady. "My name is Elliot. I'm the biological son you've been searching for."

02

There was a heavy pause on the other end. The voice that finally answered sounded exhausted, brittle with years of false hope. "Another scammer?"

I let out a soft laugh. "This one is the real deal. Just tell me where and when you want to do the DNA test."

It was true. After I died in my last life, I discovered that my biological parents were fiercely private, ultra-wealthy billionaires.

My adoptive parents were just working-class people who had found me abandoned by a patch of tall grass off a busy street.

The only reason I grew up knowing Catherine and Wesley was because my adoptive mother worked as a housekeeper at the Dupont estate. My adoptive dad worked grueling shifts, so my mom had no choice but to bring me to work.

Day after day, I trailed behind Catherine, and she trailed behind Wesley. Over time, we became a trio.

When we were kids, the companionship was genuine. But as we grew older and the invisible walls of social class began to solidify, things changed. Catherine and Wesley never said it out loud, but deep down, they looked down on me. I was the help's kid.

Now, breathing the air of a second life, I couldn't wait to see the looks on their faces when they realized who I really was.

Suddenly, my phone vibrated violently against my thigh. I answered it quickly.

Catherines shrieking voice blasted through the speaker. "Elliot, where the hell are you?! I am giving you exactly twenty minutes to get back to the office!"

"Oh, and detour to Fifth Avenue to pick up the dress I ordered! Their courier is too slow. Move your ass, Elliot! If you make me late to see Wesley, I will end you!"

She hung up before I could utter a single syllable.

I let out a low, cold breath. It was just a preliminary business meeting, but she was treating it like she was walking down the aisle.

That was the power of the golden boy.

I had guarded her quietly for twenty years, and it amounted to nothing compared to a man who had ignored her for a decade.

Well, I was officially retiring from the role of the pathetic lapdog.

But, considering she was technically still my boss, I drove toward the boutique. By the time I picked up her dress, I was already fifteen minutes past her deadline. I wasn't in a rush. As I walked past a high-end designer window, my eyes caught a stunning white dress. A phantom image flashed through my mind, and on a whim, I walked in and bought it.

When I finally made it back, Catherine was, predictably, ballistic.

"What is wrong with you today, Elliot?! Everything you do is a beat too slow! Did you know I was meeting Wesley? Are you doing this on purpose?!"

She knew I had feelings for her.

Wesley had been the one to tell her.

Before that, Catherine just found my working-class background a bit distasteful. But after Wesley snooped through my private journals and outed my feelings to her, her distaste curdled into absolute disgust.

Wesley had casually dropped the bomb with a smirk. "You know, Catherine, Elliot wouldn't be a bad choice for you. I kind of ship it."

From that day on, Wesley deliberately iced Catherine out. Not because he actually cared about her, but simply because he loved torturing me.

The more miserable I was, the more entertained he was.

His resentment stemmed from the fact that, growing up, I outperformed him in everything. Academics, sports, you name it. A nobody eclipsing the shining heir apparent. For a narcissist like Wesley, it was an unforgivable offense.

But how was that my fault? Gold shines, no matter where you bury it.

I let Catherine hit my arm a few times, her manicured nails digging into my jacket, before I stepped back. My voice was dead calm. "Are you done?"

In my last life, Catherine used my love for her as a weapon to endlessly torment me. But this time, carrying the physical memory of a crushed ribcage and shattered glass, I wasn't going down that road again.

Having seen the ugly, rotten core of who she really was, loving her was a physical impossibility.

Catherine froze, her hand hovering in the air. "Did you just snap at me, Elliot?"

I needed to buy time. I hadn't officially reunited with my biological family yet, so I couldn't completely blow up my life here.

I swallowed the vitriol and forced a veneer of patience. "We are less than thirty minutes away from the meeting. If you don't hurry up, you're going to leave him with the impression that you're unpunctual. I imagine that's not what you want."

I paused, letting my tone drop casually. "Besides, I heard Wesley is bringing his new executive secretary today. Word is, she's absolutely gorgeous..."

I feigned indifference, but it worked like a charm. Catherine's eyes widened, her brows snapping together in immediate insecurity.

"Well, what are you standing there for?!" she snapped. "Grab the files and get the car ready!"

03

Seeing her agitated actually brought a quiet sense of peace to my chest.

I tossed the white dress I had bought for myself into the trunk just as Catherine rushed out of the building.

It was true that Wesley had recently hired a stunning Ivy League grad as his secretary. Even though Catherine rarely interacted with him, I knew she obsessively tracked his every move through backchannels.

Her interest in Wesley was purely romantic; she couldn't care less about his actual business operations.

Because of that blind spot, she hadn't given this joint venture a second thought. She just saw it as a VIP ticket to finally getting the guy.

"Hey. Elliot. How do I look?"

I turned around. She was standing by the car, arms crossed, chin tilted up in a pose of absolute arrogance. The look in her eyes was loud and clear: Look at how perfect I am. You don't deserve to even look at me.

I had to admit, to outshine the rumors of Wesley's new secretary, Catherine had gone to war.

If you didn't know it was a corporate M&A meeting, you'd think she was walking the red carpet at the Met Gala.

She had completely sacrificed her own sharp, commanding style to cater to what she thought Wesleys aesthetic was.

I felt a brief flicker of pity, quickly followed by apathy.

It wasn't my problem anymore. I got in and drove us to the venue, pushing the speed slightly. I entirely "forgot" that Catherine suffered from severe motion sickness.

Calling it an accident would be a lie. I did it on purpose.

In my last life, I accommodated her every need. I drove her everywhere myself because I didn't trust anyone else with her safety. I knew that if I drove too fast, the acid reflux would make her violently ill.

"Elliot, you did that on purpose! Ugh!"

I watched Catherine lean against the brick wall outside the venue, dry-heaving. I let a faint smile touch my lips. "You're accusing the wrong guy, Catherine. I'm just setting the stage for you and Wesley to have a moment."

She shot me a venomous, red-rimmed glare. I held my hands up defensively. "Come on. Men love a damsel in distress. Playing the fragile, vulnerable card is the fastest way to trigger a guy's hero complex."

I was being overly cynical, but Catherine hadn't clawed her way to the CEO chair by being stupid. She caught the subtext instantly.

She wiped her mouth, straightening up with a harsh, mocking laugh. "Why should I believe a word you say? It's no secret you're obsessed with me. I've told you a million times, it's never going to happen. Stop trying to climb the social ladder through my bed. Wesley is the only one on my level."

She didn't even try to hide the contempt. I put on my best hurt expression. "That's exactly why I've decided to give up on you."

The moment the words left my mouth, Catherine actually went rigid for three full seconds.

"Oh, please," she finally scoffed, recovering her sneer. "You claim to love me, but you fold at the first sign of trouble. You're pathetic, Elliot."

She turned on her heel and marched through the glass doors without looking back.

I watched her go, my eyes narrowing into a cold stare.

If I let myself repeat the same mistakes in this life, that would be pathetic.

Wesleys team had just arrived.

The private conference room held only the four of us: me, Catherine, Wesley, and his secretary, Jordan.

"Wesley, what made you suddenly want to work with us?"

Catherine completely ignored the chair I pulled out for her across the table, glaring at me before practically throwing herself into the seat right next to Wesley.

It was a four-person table, and she had stolen the seat meant for his secretary.

"We've known each other forever, Wesley. No need to keep things so formal," she purred.

Wesley shot me a deliberate, mocking look. He draped his arm over the back of Catherine's chair, letting it rest just millimeters from her shoulders.

I took in his smug, territorial display with zero emotional reaction. In fact, it took everything in me not to laugh.

A grown man, the CEO of a major corporation, still playing high-school dominance games like a dog marking a fire hydrant.

I watched Catherine practically drowning in Wesley's eyes. Knowing she would drag this out, I was about to speak up to push the deal forward, but the woman next to me beat me to it.

"Mr. Hawthorne, Ms. Dupont," Jordan said, her voice clipped and professional. "Since everyone is present, I suggest we begin."

Catherine, furious at having her flirting interrupted, shot the secretary a murderous glare.

I took a moment to observe Jordan, then glanced at Catherine.

In terms of pure glamor, Catherine had definitely outdressed Jordan today. That was probably the only reason Catherine hadn't demanded the woman be fired on the spot.

Because Catherine was entirely focused on Wesley, the contract review went dangerously fast.

As Wesley stood up to leave, I smoothly stepped in front of him. "Mr. Hawthorne, our CEO is feeling a bit under the weather today. For old times' sake, would you mind driving her home?"

Catherine, who had been looking crestfallen at his departure, instantly perked up. She stepped close to him, putting on a soft, helpless voice. "Please, Wesley? Elliot is completely incompetent. He drove so erratically I got incredibly carsick. Would you mind?"

I kept my eyes on Wesley, catching the microscopic flicker of irritation in his jaw before I gave him a polite smile.

Once Catherine and Wesley were in his car, Jordan reached for the passenger door.

Catherine immediately snapped from the backseat. "Wesley, I really prefer not having random employees know where I live."

Jordan looked genuinely speechless. Trying to hide my amusement, I gently pulled her back by the elbow.

"Mr. Hawthorne, thank you for ensuring our CEO gets home safely. It's a perfect opportunity for you two to discuss the finer points of the partnership."

As the car pulled away, Jordan dropped her leather briefcase onto the pavement with a heavy thud.

"Is she psychotic? Just throwing her weight around to abuse the working class? She acts like everyone is dying to get their hands on that piece of trash."

Hearing her vent, I couldn't help but laugh out loud. "Well, to be fair, you're the daughter of a billionaire. You're hardly the 'working class'."

04

Jordans expression instantly turned lethal. She locked eyes with me, her posture shifting into something dangerous. "How do you know that?"

I only knew because, after I died, I found out my billionaire father had a daughter two years older than me.

To protect her from the suffocating pressure of the media, my father had scrubbed her existence from the public record.

It gave her the freedom to live an actual life and experience the world on her own terms.

While I was still lost in my memories, Jordan suddenly snapped a brutal kick aimed straight below my belt. I reacted purely on instinct, dodging just in time.

"Who sent you? What's your angle?"

Jordans face was terrifyingly cold. I threw my hands up in a desperate surrender.

"Hey, hold on! Are you trying to end your own bloodline?!"

Jordan froze, then immediately pivoted to launch another kick.

"What kind of psycho are you? You think you can just call me sister and I'll buy it?"

I blocked her leg with my forearm. "You don't have to buy anything. We can do a DNA test right now."

Right on cue, my phone started vibrating furiously.

I held it up to show her the screen. "I literally just scheduled the private doctor with the estate manager. Come on. Let's go bleed for science."

With that, I popped the trunk, pulled out the white dress I had bought earlier, and tossed it to her.

By the time we arrived at the discreet location I had arranged with my father, the estate manager was already waiting.

To prevent anyone from buying off a public hospital, my father used the familys exclusive private medical team.

Because the stakes were so high, the lab ran the rush order flawlessly. The results came back within hours.

Jordan stared at the paper, her eyes wide. "You really are my little brother."

My billionaire dad broke down, pulling me into a crushing hug, sobbing uncontrollably.

The only tragedy was that I was a year too late. My biological mother had passed away from an illness twelve months ago.

Her dying wish had been for them to find the son they had lost.

Now that I was back, my father wanted to call a massive press conference and announce my return to the world. I immediately shut the idea down.

My revenge wasn't complete. The traps hadn't been sprung. Showing my hand now would ruin the game.

I pulled Jordan aside. "Hey, you hate Wesley, right? I hate him too. How about a little sibling bonding exercise to take him down?"

Wesley was the quintessential bloodsucking capitalist, treating his employees like disposable batteries.

Jordan had been sick of him for months. She raised an eyebrow. "I'm listening."

As I laid out my blueprint, Jordan clicked her tongue. "Damn, little brother. You've got some deep-seated trauma with this guy."

She hit the nail on the head. I did.

In my previous life, my death was entirely intertwined with Wesley Hawthorne.

He was far more dangerous than anyone realized.

05

This entire "partnership" was a premeditated scheme designed by Wesley to gut the Dupont Group from the inside out.

Right now, both companies were heavyweights in the same industry.

Two tigers can't share one mountain. Wesley was desperate to swallow Catherine's empire whole.

Because Wesley placed so much emphasis on this joint venture, Catherine became utterly obsessed with it.

She worked me to the bone, piling on tasks that had never been part of my job description.

She really had learned from the best. Growing up with Wesley had taught her how to be a ruthless capitalist.

Honestly, I could have just thrown my resignation letter in her face right then and there, walking away to inherit my billions.

But if I did that, my brutal death in the last life would go unanswered. They would win.

Besides, before I officially stepped into my family's empire, I needed to build a solid foundation.

I found out that my father was currently eyeing a massive plot of land in the Southside Yards. Coincidentally, Wesley was desperate for that exact same parcel.

But based on the memories from my past life, the Southside Yards project was poisoned chalice. It looked like a goldmine, but it was rotten to the core.

Even though it was adjacent to the city's new commercial hub, the land had a dark history. It used to be a low-income neighborhood. Due to deep political corruption and violent, forced evictions orchestrated by shell companies, families had been destroyed. People had died.

The scandal had been buried deep. Worse, the geological survey had been doctoredthe ground was inherently unstable and prone to catastrophic sinkholes.

My father had only recently returned to the US and wasn't privy to the local, buried dirt. He was still deciding if the land was worth the investment.

Wesley, on the other hand, thought he was playing 4D chess.

His plan with Catherine was to build a massive residential complex on the Southside Yards.

Dupont Group would be the public facebuying the land and building the structureswhile Hawthorne Industries would act as a silent, shadow backer.

If the skeletons in the closet were unearthed, or if the ground caved in, the public would burn Catherine at the stake. Wesley could just sever ties, keep his hands clean, and watch his biggest competitor die.

If the project succeeded, he raked in half the profits with zero risk.

Wesley thrived on dirty deals disguised as brilliant business moves.

In my last life, I saw right through his trap. I fought tooth and nail to protect Catherine, saving her company, her reputation, and her father's legacy.

My reward was being treated like garbage.

This time? I wasn't just going to sit back and watch. I was going to give them a little push over the edge.