Jenny Lonsway Facebook ad: “He Let Me Die, So I Chose Another in My Rebirth”

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1406514244316987

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Facebook, Instagram, Audience Network and Threads

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1

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The Carrington heir’s search for a wife required eight evaluation books. One for each year, every volume filled with records of me—his fiancée. My words, my manners, my posture, my social graces. No favoritism. No leniency. Only after I passed all eight years of scrutiny would he agree to marry me. The entire upper crust of New Orleans praised him for his discipline and devotion. Until, years into our marriage, at a family dinner, my stomach cramped so intensely I could barely breathe. All he did was look at me with displeasure and murmur, “The way you’re holding your fork is improper. Don’t do it again.” That night, the pain grew worse and worse. Before I could tell him I was pregnant, I died—along with our child. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the evaluation meeting for the seventh year. Adrian Carrington was frowning, listing my failures one by one. “Your brooch was off by half a centimeter. You took five seconds too long to pour the coffee. Your stride was three centimeters too wide…” “How do you expect to be the mistress of the Carrington family like this? If you keep this up, I’ll find someone else for you to marry.” This time, I didn’t try to explain. I just gave a small nod. “I’d be open to that.” ... The moment the words left my mouth, the room fell silent. Everyone stared at me in disbelief. I couldn’t blame them. I had always clung to Adrian, my entire world revolving around marrying him. For me to so easily agree to marry someone else was completely out of character. Adrian froze, too. For the first time, he lifted his head from the evaluation book and actually looked at my face. “You’re sure?” I offered a faint smile. “I know I’m ordinary. I’m not good enough for you.” “Our childhood engagement was just something our fathers agreed to in passing. It has no legal weight. If I choose someone else, I’ll no longer be holding you back. After all these years, at least I can say I’ve done right by our friendship.” His expression darkened instantly. He set his fountain pen down with a sharp crack. “You haven’t forgotten, I hope, that I don’t respond to threats.” “You’d better mean it. Don’t come running back to me in tears, begging.” With that, he walked out. Adrian’s weapon of choice was the cold shoulder. He often used the excuse of “testing my character” to level harsh criticisms at me. The moment I showed the slightest displeasure, his face would turn to ice, and he would refuse to speak to me. Every single time, in less than an hour, I would go to him, dejected, and offer a humiliating apology. He was all too used to me caving. So this time, even when I said I wanted to break the engagement, he just thought I was sulking. What he didn’t know was that the Hannah Reed he knew had already died on that night of unbearable pain. The woman standing here now had no fight left in her. And no desire to look back.In my last life, the wives of the old-money families all told me how lucky I w......

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He Let Me Die, So I Chose Another in My Rebirth