My Second Chance : Reborn of Tycoon
Copyright© 2026 by BillMax
Chapter 2: Your Husband Did It
Marcus Hale was not surprised by Hannah Kane’s attitude.
Trust did not break in a day, and it would not mend in an afternoon.
In his past life he had done too many shameful things—things bad enough that he had wanted to beat himself bloody. He could hardly blame anyone else for despising him.
The reason he had come to Hannah, beyond protecting Claire, was to change how the people around his wife saw him. Environment mattered. If the company stopped treating him like human trash, winning Claire back would be far easier.
“Ms. Kane, you don’t want to know what happened to your father?”
“Scum like you isn’t fit to touch my father’s shoes. How could you possibly know anything about him?” Hannah shot back.
“Marcus, I’m warning you one last time. Get out before I lose my temper.”
“Fine. I thought you cared about how your father died. Guess I was wrong.”
Marcus shook his head, sighed, and walked out with steady steps.
Hannah’s pupils dilated.
The police had ruled her father’s death natural. Her husband, her relatives, her friends—everyone had accepted it. She was the only person in the world who doubted it.
So how did Marcus know?
Could he have information the police never found?
The thought hit and she called out without thinking. “Stop right there!”
Marcus turned. “Further instructions, Ms. Kane?”
Hannah clenched her jaw. “Tell me what you know. If it’s true, I’ll give you a hundred thousand dollars. You won’t have to pay it back.”
Marcus chuckled. “Sorry. I don’t feel like talking anymore.”
He opened the door and left.
Hannah slammed her fist on the desk. Light and shadow flickered across her face. Her chest heaved for a long moment. Still, she could not let even the smallest chance slip away. She got up and chased after him.
By the time she reached reception, the elevator doors were sliding shut on Marcus.
“Mr. Hale, please wait—Marcus—”
The doors closed. The car began to descend. Another elevator showed it was still on the twentieth floor. Hannah gritted her teeth, kicked off her heels, and sprinted into the stairwell.
The receptionist’s eyes nearly popped out of her head.
The CEO was running barefoot after Designer Jensen’s husband.
What in God’s name was happening?
After the shock passed, remembering the unnerving authority Marcus had shown earlier, the receptionist felt a hot spike of curiosity.
At that moment, the thing Hannah was most grateful for was that her father had leased office space on the fifth floor instead of somewhere higher. She ran hard, then slower, and finally caught Marcus outside the building.
“Marcus—Mr. Hale, please wait—”
Marcus turned. Hannah stood there with one hand gripping her heels, the other braced on her knee, panting so hard the buttons on her blouse strained. Her hair was wild. Her face was flushed. She looked nothing like a CEO.
In his previous life, Marcus had known at least ten ways to get this woman into his bed by nightfall. But Claire was alive again. Something in his soul had settled. His mind had changed. Conquest no longer interested him.
After catching her breath, Hannah straightened. “If you truly know how my father died, please tell me.”
Marcus scoffed. “How could scum like me be fit to touch your father’s shoes? How could I know anything about him?”
This asshole. Why is he so petty?
A gambling addict living off his wife—if he wasn’t scum, what was he? Had she said anything wrong?
Cursing inwardly, Hannah exhaled and bent toward him slightly.
“I apologize, Mr. Hale. I was presumptuous earlier. I was rude. Please, for the sake of your wife’s employer, share what you know. I will reward you generously.”
“Are you saying that if I don’t tell you, you’ll make my wife’s life difficult?”
Marcus’s voice was level. His expression was ice. His eyes seemed to cut through skin and bone straight into the heart. Hannah shivered.
“No, no, no. That’s not what I mean. Designer Jensen is indispensable to this company. Even if your information is worthless, I won’t take it out on her. I only hoped to borrow her goodwill and earn your forgiveness.”
Marcus snorted. “What about my three conditions?”
Strangely, for all his shabby appearance, Marcus carried more pressure than any major player Hannah had ever faced. She felt no room to bargain.
“I agree.”
A faint smile crossed Marcus’s eyes.
“First, you’re right to doubt. Your father didn’t die of sudden illness. He was murdered.”
The words hit like a slap. Every hair on Hannah’s body stood on end.
What shocked her most was not the cause of death. It was that Marcus knew she had always suspected it.
Her husband hadn’t even noticed.
“Mr. Hale ... do you know who did it?”
“I do.”
Hannah stepped forward instinctively. “Who?”
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