Reborn I Let The Cheating Commander Burn

The memory—my wife, pinned beneath that scumbag—it’s the moment I chose to stand still, to do nothing.

Because in my past life, trying to save her, I’d accidentally killed him.

I was sentenced to twenty years in a federal pen. Eleanor, the Commander’s wife, promised, tears in her eyes, that she would wait for me.

Twenty years later, I found out the ‘victim’ hadn’t died at all. He’d married my wife!

My face burned with fury. The scumbag—Grant Bellamy—just laughed at me.

“If I hadn’t met Ellie a year after your wedding, you wouldn’t have even gotten to marry her,” he sneered.

“And if it hadn’t been for her rank, which made a messy divorce difficult, you wouldn’t have needed to rot in prison all those years.”

“But you served your time, and now you’re a convicted felon. Why not go back in for thirty more years?”

Before he finished speaking, my mother rushed in. In the ensuing chaos, Grant killed her.

I was paralyzed with grief, pinned down beneath their weight. Ellie Shaw showed no mercy, shoving the murder weapon into my hand and using her authority as a Commander to convict me.

In the end, I was executed.

Reborn. Facing that same sight now, the choice was simple: I wouldn’t move.

This time, they’re going down.

1

“Stop, stop it, Marc will be back soon, and if he catches us, we’re ruined!”

Ellie’s voice, a sickening mix of protest and invitation, scraped across my hearing.

I snapped my eyes open. I was back. Twenty years ago, standing right outside this door. This was the exact moment I’d first witnessed Grant Bellamy assaulting—no, enticing—Eleanor Shaw.

In the last life, seeing Grant pressed against Ellie, I’d rushed in without a second thought, tearing him off her. Before she could even react, I was beating him, fist after fist. She’d tried to pull me off, but her ‘interventions’ ensured I took just as many blows from Grant.

In a blind rage, I shoved him. His head hit the wall, and he slid to the floor, lifeless.

Seeing him slump, I froze, all the fight draining out of me. Ellie had glared at me, then checked his pulse, declaring him dead and ordering me to turn myself in.

Looking at her tear-filled eyes, I grit my teeth and agreed.

Because the death was an accident, and because I’d acted to defend my wife, I was initially sentenced to fifteen years. If Ellie, in her role as a Commander, had pulled any strings, that sentence could have been reduced.

But she didn’t just refuse to help; she used her rank to demand a harsher sentence!

I stared at her, my eyes burning. She just looked back, coolly. “I’m the Commander, Marc. I have to set an example. If everyone acted like you, the world would descend into chaos.”

“But don’t worry, I’ll wait for you.”

With those words, my sentence was bumped up to twenty years.

For two decades, I suffered constant harassment and torment in prison. When I finally got out and found Ellie, the truth shattered me: it was all a conspiracy engineered by her and Grant! Grant had never died. Ellie had sent me to prison—and demanded a harsher sentence—just so she could be with him. The men who tormented me were her doing, too.

In my grief and fury, I’d moved to confront them, only for my mother to show up. In the struggle, Grant had accidentally killed her, and Ellie had framed me for it. I became a parricidal monster, condemned to execution, while they walked away free.

The memory made my vision swim with red. I wanted to storm in and slaughter the traitors, but not this time. This time, I saw it clearly: Grant wasn’t forcing her. Ellie was a willing participant, soaking up the sick drama.

As the sounds from inside became less suggestive and more explicit, I turned away from the door.

I scanned the backyard, my gaze landing on the old utility shed. I slipped in, found the stored gear—mostly dry kindling and old boxes—and a lighter. A quick flick of the wheel. Let them burn in their little love nest.

I knew that little fire wouldn’t kill them. So, I walked away, waited for the first wisp of smoke, and then bolted out the front door, acting like the panicked husband returning home. My panicked shouts soon drew the attention of our neighbors in the Base Quarters.

A crowd quickly gathered, and seeing the smoke, they rushed to contain the fire. The flames spread fast.

Finally, just as the fire was about to lick the edges of their room, Ellie and Grant lost their nerve.

Ellie burst out, her clothes disheveled, her neck bearing raw, unmistakable marks. Seeing the gathered crowd, she instantly manufactured a sleepy-eyed expression.

“What in God’s name? Why is our house on fire?”

I barely contained the hatred twisting my stomach as I looked at her feigned innocence. She glanced at me. I smoothed the rage from my face and spoke calmly. “I don’t know, Ellie. It just started. Where have you been?”

“And what happened to your neck, Commander?”

Her face froze. She quickly covered her throat with a hand. “N-nothing. Just a bad mosquito bite.”

Her stutter drew the attention of everyone nearby. But the fire was the priority.

As the neighbors got dangerously close to the bedroom, cold sweat beaded on Ellie’s temples. If Grant Bellamy was found in the room—in their room—it would be impossible for her to explain away. Even with her rank, a scandal involving ‘conduct unbecoming’ would end her career.

That’s why, in the last life, she’d gone to such twisted lengths instead of simply divorcing me.

“Wait! Stop! That’s enough fire suppression, I can handle the rest myself!”

Ellie finally broke, frantically signaling the neighbors to stay back. They paused, looking at her with confusion.

I smirked. “Commander, the fire isn’t out yet. Why are you stopping them? Are you afraid they’ll find a hidden guest? Maybe a man you’re hiding in there?” I tossed the last part out like a joke, but my eyes were knives.

Ellie’s face went dark. She lashed out, hard, striking my face.

“Don’t you dare spread malicious rumors!” she hissed. “I just didn’t want to waste their time and resources. How could you think that of me?”

She glared at me, a flash of pure guilt in her eyes. A deep ache flared in my heart. So, she was capable of guilt after all.

I’d once believed she loved me. But Grant’s arrival had shown me what she was truly capable of: when she loved him, she threw away every principle, every rule, even human lives.

I looked at her, a slow, mocking smile spreading across my bruised face. “If you have nothing to hide, then let them finish the job.”

I took a step toward the room. In a panic, she shoved me. I stumbled, hitting my head hard on the concrete sidewalk. Blood immediately welled up.

Ellie looked down at me with a mix of revulsion and panic. “Stop this drama, Marc!”

The neighbors looked at me with sympathy.

“Commander,” one of them spoke up, “why not just let him look? It’s almost out, anyway.”

Under the public pressure, Ellie couldn’t refuse again. Her face was set in a tight mask of fury.

As everyone waited, the fire was finally extinguished.

“Report! There’s a structure fire on the north side. Commander, we need to redeploy immediately!”

Just then, a real emergency call came in. In the rush, everyone—except Ellie and me—left. No one cared anymore whether there was a man in her room. But Ellie’s frantic reaction had already planted the seed of suspicion in everyone’s minds.

Ellie glared at me, her eyes furious. “Are you satisfied now?”

“You just ruined my reputation!”

She whirled and rushed into the room, clearly concealing something. I limped after her, only to find the room empty. Grant Bellamy was gone.

In a flash, I understood. Ellie had been stalling. The fire on the north side must have been Grant’s signal—a diversion to cover his escape.

I fixed an icy stare on Ellie, but when she glanced back, I was expressionless.

The house was ruined. As a Commander, she would be quickly relocated. She looked down at me, where I sat bleeding on the concrete. She sneered, a cruel, cold smile. “You were so capable just now, weren’t you?”

“Now, find somewhere else to stay tonight. If you can’t, get off the base.”

She turned and left, indifferent to my head injury or my embarrassing situation.

I stood there, motionless, the night air chilling the blood on my head. I was prepared for this, yet watching her walk away, uncaring, was a slow, twisting ache in my chest. She’d promised eternal loyalty on our wedding day.

Finally, long after midnight, a kind neighbor from the Quarters took pity on me and offered me their spare room.