Blurb：
Betrayed by her husband Barrett Rutherford and his mistress Delilah Creston, Felicity Kendrick burns with vengeance after losing her six unborn heirs to the Rutherford family’s cruelty. Reborn one year before her doomed marriage, Felicity wields her rare **Verdant Gene**—a genetic marvel coveted by dynasties—to rewrite fate. Refusing the **Rutherford Blight**-cursed union, she allies with ruthless tech titan Conrad Mercer, igniting a war of corporate empires, genetic secrets, and shattered lineages.
As Barrett and his manipulative mother Matilda Rutherford plot to destroy Felicity, Delilah’s unnatural pregnancy exposes the family’s rot. At the explosive **Legacy Gala**, paternity revelations and monstrous heirs unravel the Rutherfords, while Felicity’s **Genetic Calibration** births a new dynasty. Can her twins secure the **Bloomwood Sanctuary**’s legacy, or will Barrett’s desperation trigger a final, fatal reckoning? A tale of rebirth, ruthless revenge, and genetic destiny colliding with corporate empires.
Content：
§PROLOGUEThe first thing she felt was the cold.
It bit into her skin, seeping through the thin hospital gown, a chilling contrast to the fire raging in her womb.
Felicity was bound to the bed, leather restraints digging into her wrists and ankles.
Her gaze was locked on the two figures across the room, their bodies a grotesque silhouette against the sterile white walls.
Barrett Rutherford, her husband, was moving atop another woman, his rhythm a brutal, mocking metronome counting down the seconds of her life.
He turned his head, a cruel smile twisting his lips.
"Watch closely, Felicity," he sneered, his voice a venomous whisper that slithered across the room.
"Delilah is a hundred times more interesting in bed than you are."
"You should learn something."
Tears streamed down her face, hot and silent.
Her body, heavy with the six lives she carried, convulsed with a pain that had nothing to do with labor.
It was the agony of a soul being systematically shattered.
Then, the door opened.
Two men in medical scrubs walked in, their faces impassive.
One held a syringe filled with a clear, viscous liquid.
Barrett didn't stop.
He laughed, a sound more chilling than the cold.
"It's time, my love," he said, the endearment a final, sharp twist of the knife.
The men held her down.
The needle pierced the skin of her arm.
A searing, unnatural cold shot through her veins, heading straight for her belly.
The gene inhibitor.
She felt them die.
One by one.
The tiny, frantic flutters inside her stilled.
The life she had nurtured for nine months, the six heartbeats that had been her only solace, winked out like fragile flames in a hurricane.
One body, seven lives.
"Why?" she choked out, her voice a raw, broken thing.
Barrett finally pulled away from Delilah, his face a mask of triumphant rage.
"Because you were never meant to be the mother of my children, you greedy bitch," he spat.
"Because Delilah is already carrying my heir!"
"I have my own legacy. I don't need your tainted blood."
His mother, Matilda, appeared at the doorway, her face alight with a horrifying, manic glee.
She held a flickering lighter.
"I only acknowledge one daughter-in-law, and that's Delilah," Matilda hissed.
"You think you're worthy of the Rutherford name? You're not even worthy of the air you breathe."
The smell of gasoline filled the air.
A small flame danced from the lighter, then arced through the room.
It landed on the edge of her bedsheet.
Flames erupted, a hungry, roaring beast of orange and yellow.
The last thing Felicity saw was their smiling faces, framed by the inferno.
The last thing she felt was the fire consuming her, a final, agonizing embrace.
And in that moment of ultimate despair, a single, silent vow echoed in the ruins of her soul.
If there is another life…
I will have my vengeance.
The world dissolved into a searing white light.
And then… nothing.
§01
Felicity’s eyes snapped open.
The first thing she felt was the silk.
Cool, smooth, and impossibly soft against her skin.
She was lying in her own bed, in her own room at the Kendrick family home.
Sunlight, warm and gentle, streamed through the bay window, catching the dust motes dancing in the air.
She sat bolt upright, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird.
Her hands flew to her belly.
Flat.
Empty.
There was no weight, no life, no sign of the six souls she had just felt being extinguished.
A sob, raw and visceral, tore from her throat.
She scrambled out of bed and stumbled to the full-length mirror.
The woman staring back was her, but a version she hadn’t seen in almost a year.
Her skin was flawless, her body lean and strong, untouched by the ravages of a high-risk pregnancy.
She looked… whole.
But she felt like a ghost.
A frantic glance at her phone confirmed the impossible.
The date was one year ago.
The day before Barnaby Rutherford Sr., the patriarch of the Rutherford dynasty, was scheduled to visit and formally propose the marriage between her and his grandson, Barrett.
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