Reborn as the Billionaire Heir After Being Killed by My Parents

1 The day I was brought back to the prestigious Prescott family home, the so-called “real daughter” had only to pout, a slight quiver in her lip. That was all it took for my parents to lay down the law for me. I wasn’t allowed at the dinner table. When we went out, I was introduced as the nanny. As for a single share of the family company? I wasn’t even to think about it. My parents warned me again and again, their voices cold and final. “Everything in this house belongs to Nicole. You won’t get a single penny.” My grandparents were even more protective of her. “Nicole is the Prescott heir. She’ll carry on the family name.” Later, my severe depression relapsed, and I ended my life. But my soul burned with too much resentment, and I was granted another chance. This time, as I opened my eyes in the warm, amniotic darkness, I heard a familiar voice. My grandmother gasped. “Darling… I… I think I’m pregnant!” … Her words left both me and my grandfather stunned. Wait. How did I end up reincarnated in my grandmother’s womb? I glanced down in disbelief and saw a little extra appendage. This time, I was reborn as my grandparents’ late-in-life son. The undisputed heir destined to bring glory to the family. My grandfather’s face was a mask of shock. He immediately summoned the family doctor, who gave my grandmother a full examination. Afterward, even the doctor was flabbergasted. “Mrs. Prescott is indeed pregnant. Mr. Prescott, you’re still as vigorous as ever!” he exclaimed. “And all signs point to a boy. The Prescott line is truly blessed!” At the mention of a son, my grandfather’s face lit up. He declared then and there that they would keep the baby. But my father, Robert, who had been standing by, went pale. “Dad, you can’t let Mom go through with this!” he protested. “She’s nearly sixty! How can her body handle a pregnancy? I’m just thinking of her health!” He sounded concerned, but having been his daughter in a past life, I saw right through his pathetic act. His words were a noble-sounding excuse to prevent a new brother from cutting into his inheritance. My mother, Catherine, quickly chimed in. “He’s right! A woman her age getting pregnant… we’ll be the laughingstock of high society!” My grandmother shot them a withering glare. “In our circles, who would dare laugh at the Prescotts?” Her voice was steel. “Your father and I have made our decision. You have no say in the matter.” I wasn’t surprised they were so determined. After all, my grandmother spent an eight-figure sum annually on health and wellness. Years of pampered living made her look closer to thirty than sixty. Besides, they were already deeply dissatisfied with their only son, a hopeless disappointment. They naturally wanted a do-over. Seeing his objections dismissed, my father’s gaze toward his mother hardened with a glint of malice. When he pulled my mother out of the room to whisper, I was on high alert. With their combined cunning, I knew they wouldn’t let my grandmother’s pregnancy proceed smoothly. Sure enough, that evening, my mother brought my grandmother a bowl of a specially prepared herbal tonic, her face plastered with a sycophantic smile. “Mom, Robert and I made this for you. Pregnancy can be draining, so you need to keep your strength up.” My grandmother, unsuspecting, took the bowl and was about to drink. But I caught a faint, unusual scent mixed in with the herbs. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong. Just as the bowl touched her lips, I yanked on the umbilical cord and used the momentum to slam myself against the wall of her womb. A sharp pain shot through my grandmother’s abdomen, and she instinctively put the bowl down. She gently caressed her stomach, her smooth, unwrinkled hand tracing circles. “Oh, you little rascal,” she murmured with a weary fondness. “Don’t give your mommy such a hard time.” With the tonic set aside, I relaxed. But my mother was persistent. She picked up the bowl again. “Mom, drink it while it’s hot. The baby will calm down once he has some nutrients.” The moment my grandmother lifted the bowl, I repeated my maneuver, sending waves of pain through her stomach. After several attempts, a flicker of suspicion entered my grandmother’s eyes as she looked at my mother. “It seems my little one doesn’t want me to drink this. My dear daughter-in-law,” she said, her voice dangerously calm, “you didn’t happen to add anything extra, did you?” My mother’s face went white, and she immediately tried to take the tonic away. But my grandmother grabbed her wrist, refusing to let her leave, and called for her private physician. After a quick analysis, the doctor confirmed our fears. The tonic was laced with a lethal dose of abortifacients. My grandfather, who had been summoned by the commotion, turned purple with rage. He stormed in, dragged my father inside from the hallway, and kicked him squarely in the back. “Robert! Your mother has been pregnant for less than a day, and you two are already pulling these stunts? We have been far too lenient with you!” he roared. “The new northwestern branch just opened. The two of you can get out there and ‘gain some experience’! Stop causing trouble for your mother!”

2 As much as my parents hated the idea of leaving the city, my grandfather was the true patriarch of the Prescott family. His word was law. They were shipped off to the northwest that very night, but the fake heiress, Nicole, was allowed to stay. After all, despite having no blood relation, she was still a Prescott grandchild and had to be treated as such. What my grandparents didn’t know was that my parents, though far away, were in constant contact with Nicole, instructing her to find an opportunity to get rid of me. And Nicole, eager to please, played the part of the doting granddaughter perfectly. She spent her days massaging my grandmother’s shoulders and fetching her things. For three months, she was so sweet and helpful that my grandparents’ defenses completely melted. One afternoon, my grandmother had invited some other society matrons over for tea. As she prepared to walk downstairs, the hairs on my arm stood on end. I caught a glimpse of a strange expression on Nicole’s face. In the next instant, my eyes fell on the staircase, which was gleaming with an unnatural sheen from an excessive amount of wax. It was Nicole. She had secretly polished the stairs, hoping my grandmother would slip and fall, causing a miscarriage. No! I would not let them win. I came back in this life for one reason: revenge. Just as my grandmother was about to take a step, I took a running start and barrelled through the womb, crashing from one side to the other. A sudden, sharp pain made her gasp and pull her foot back. “Not even a month old and already causing a ruckus,” she complained, but her eyes were filled with love as she looked down at her belly. Though my grandmother had stopped, the maid who was attending to her had already stepped forward. Her foot hit the slick wood, and she went tumbling down the stairs with a scream. The commotion brought my grandfather running. A sense of dread fell over my grandmother. She knelt, and her fingers immediately found the thick, greasy layer of wax on the stairs. My grandparents were seasoned players in the games of the elite. One look was all it took for my grandfather to understand. He quickly had security pull the surveillance footage. It showed Nicole, in the dead of night, secretly applying the wax. My grandfather’s expression turned to ice. “Nicole, what is the meaning of this?” “You have no blood ties to this family. We raised you for over a decade out of kindness, and in return, you try to murder my son?” His voice was low and dangerous. “A vicious person like you has no place in this house. Get out. Go back to the orphanage where you belong.” At his command, bodyguards moved to drag a stunned Nicole away. She paled, clinging desperately to the doorframe. “Grandpa, Grandma, I didn’t mean it! I was just trying to help clean the house…” she sobbed. “You love me the most, don’t you? Please don’t send me away…” By now, my grandmother had been helped downstairs. Her gaze was frigid as she slapped Nicole hard across the face. “Go and tell your parents,” she said, her voice dripping with venom, “that no one touches the child in my womb.” Inside the womb, I did a joyful somersault. Leave it to the old pros to see right through the scheme to the masterminds behind it. But just as the guards were about to haul Nicole out of the villa, the front door swung open again. My parents stood there, looking travel-worn, and rushed to shield Nicole. “Mom, Dad, Nicole may not be our blood, but she is our family!” my father declared. “We will not be separated from our daughter! And we will not allow you to throw her out!” With her protectors present, Nicole’s confidence returned. She looked at my grandparents with wide, teary eyes. “Grandpa, Grandma, I really didn’t mean to…” Her damsel-in-distress act might have worked on my parents, but not on the old foxes of high society. They could see the treachery in all three of them. My grandfather let out a cold laugh. “Fine. If you’re so inseparable, then you can all get out together!” he boomed. “And from this day forward, you are not to set foot in this villa without my permission!”

3 Though my parents protested, the security guards escorted them from the most opulent mansion in the city’s most exclusive enclave. In the presence of the true head of the family, their words were meaningless. With them gone, my life finally found a measure of peace. My grandparents cherished their late-in-life son. They hired the city’s top private medical team for in-home check-ups and donated an eight-figure sum to a local monastery to pray for my well-being. Before I was even born, trucks delivered mountains of luxury baby goods to the villa. Hermès blankets were deemed worthy only of being used as my playmats. Finally, amid my grandparents’ eager anticipation, I was born: a healthy baby boy. But just as my grandmother was recovering from the delivery, my parents and Nicole appeared at the door. My father’s face was a picture of sincerity. “Dad, we heard Mom gave birth. We came to see her. It was all a misunderstanding before. Now that I see Mom and my little brother are both safe and sound, I can finally rest easy.” He sighed dramatically. “Living apart from you these past months has been torture. As your son, I was worried sick something might happen.” He was, after all, their only son, and his words were soft and apologetic. My grandfather sighed and let them in, even inviting them to stay for dinner. But I knew better. This wasn’t over. The moment the three of them stepped inside, my guard went up. I was a newborn, weak and vulnerable. Harming me would be child’s play. After dinner, Nicole went to the grand piano, announcing she wanted to play a new piece for her grandparents. Seizing the opportunity, my parents slipped into the nursery. As my father looked down at my small face, a shadow of malice crossed his eyes. “You think you can compete with me for the inheritance? I’ll send you to your next life right now!” My mother approached slowly, holding a handkerchief. “Everything the Prescotts have belongs to us,” she hissed. “I’m sending you on your way, you little bastard.” Panic seized me. My body was too weak to even stand. I tried to let out a loud cry to alert my grandparents and the nanny, but it was too late. My mother pressed the chloroform-soaked handkerchief firmly over my mouth and nose. Once they were sure I was unconscious, my father opened the suitcase he’d brought and tossed me inside. “Throw the whole suitcase into the ocean,” he muttered. “Then I can finally relax. Even if Mom and Dad find out, they won’t have the heart to punish their only son.” With me zipped inside, my parents signaled to Nicole, and they made for the door. But just as their hands touched the handle, my grandfather appeared. “Don’t leave,” he said. “Why don’t you stay the night?” It was an olive branch. Normally, my parents would have eagerly accepted. But this time, desperate to dispose of me, my father quickly refused. “That’s all right, Dad. Mom needs her rest. We shouldn’t disturb her.” He and my mother grabbed the suitcase, ready to make a quick exit. But just then, a piercing wail erupted from within the case. My grandfather’s expression changed instantly.