My Second Chance : Reborn of Tycoon
Copyright© 2026 by BillMax
Chapter 1: Don’t Touch Me
Smack!
The slap landed hard enough to turn his head.
“The house is all we have left, and you want to gamble it away? Are you even human?”
Pain blazed across Marcus Hale’s cheek. The woman in front of him snapped into focus, and his chest tightened until he could barely breathe.
His wife.
The wife who had been dead for twenty years was standing in front of him, alive.
A dream?
Marcus looked around. He was outside the office building where Claire worked. Half a minute ago, in another lifetime, a gunshot had ended everything. His blood roared. His eyes burned red. His heart hammered against his ribs.
This was not a dream.
He had been reborn.
He had actually come back twenty years.
Joy and grief hit him at once. Tears blurred his vision as he reached out with a shaking hand. “Claire ... God, I’ve missed you so much.”
For twenty years. Day and night.
Claire Jensen went still for a heartbeat, remembering the man he used to be. Then her expression hardened. She turned her face away before his palm could touch her skin.
“Don’t touch me. You make me sick.”
Marcus froze as the next twenty years flooded back in perfect, brutal detail.
On this day, he had lost every last dollar and come to Claire’s company demanding the deed to their apartment so he could mortgage it and chase his losses. When she refused, he said things no husband should ever say.
She slapped him and had security throw him out.
That same night, trapped in a setup during a client dinner, Claire jumped from a high floor to protect her dignity. She took two lives with her.
Marcus would never forget what she looked like in the morgue, or the agony of learning she had been pregnant for more than a month.
If he had not drunk and gambled his way into ruin, would his wife, a talented designer, have been forced to overwork herself and sit through those dinners in the first place?
In the decades that followed, even after revenge, even after wealth, even after standing at the top of the world, regret still tore him open in the quiet hours of the night.
To hell with all of it.
Dream or not, he was back. He would not fail her again.
Claire would live.
She would stand beside him and share everything the future had to offer.
Marcus drew a steadying breath and bowed his head. “Claire, I’m sorry. The man I was before was garbage. You’ve put up with me for too long. You’ve been wronged.”
Claire stared at him, then looked at him the way someone looks at a roach in their food.
“Marcus, if you think playing pathetic will make me tell you where the deed is, save it. You’re even more disgusting like this.”
He smiled bitterly. A few apologies could not untie years of disappointment.
“I’ll say it once more. Believe me or don’t, I swear I will never gamble again. I’ll work. I’ll earn real money and give you a better life. I’ll spend the rest of my days making up for what I did to you.”
His voice was earnest. Claire’s answer was contempt.
“This is ridiculous,” she said, shaking her head. “In two years you’ve made more promises than I can count. Have you kept a single one? Your word means nothing. How stupid do you think I am? I was stupid once. That’s the only reason I married you against my parents’ wishes.”
Marcus had expected that. It still hurt.
“I know words won’t fix this. That’s fine. I’ll prove it with actions.”
Claire checked the time on her phone, pulled out her wallet, and counted out bills. “I only have a thousand on me. Take six hundred and leave. I don’t want to see you here again.”
Even knowing he was a compulsive gambler, she still gave him most of her cash. Her anger came from love worn down by disappointment, not from indifference.
That gave him hope. He caught her wrist and pushed five hundred back into her hand. “One bill is enough. I’ll hit the market this afternoon. What do you want for dinner? Tonight I’ll cook—”
“When will you stop? What do you want from me?”
Tears rose in Claire’s eyes. “I have a meeting. Please. I’m begging you. Stop bothering me.”
Marcus watched, helpless, and said the one thing that mattered. “Can you skip the client dinner tonight?”
Claire blinked. She almost asked how he knew, then shut the question down. “That’s my job. It isn’t your business.”
“Then can you stay sober?”
Her face went colder. “I’ll say it again. That’s my job, you—”
“You’re pregnant. You can’t drink.”
Claire’s eyes went wide. She stumbled back half a step. “What ... what did you say?”
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