Rebirth: Spoiling My Wife & Kid Silly

Jackson Scott, lying in a VVIP hospital room, had undergone two surgeries. Both of his testicles had been removed, leaving him a eunuch, yet he still couldn't escape death—cancer cells continued to spread.

As he closed his eyes for the final time, tears of regret flowed from his cloudy, aging eyes. In his life, the ones he had wronged the most were his wife and child.

His wife was as beautiful as a flower. Had it not been for his scheming, there was no way she would have married a penniless man like him at the age of eighteen.

He had orchestrated an accident where she fell into a reservoir, then "rescued" her, with everyone witnessing her disheveled appearance, an image that ruined her reputation. She had been forced into marrying him for the sake of her name.

Ever since entering his household, his wife had never known a single day of happiness. Four months after giving birth to their daughter, she couldn't bear the physical and emotional abuse from him—drunken beatings and neglect. The hunger prevented her from producing milk, and their child cried endlessly from starvation.

In her despair, she had taken the child in her arms and thrown herself into the reservoir.

His older brother, second brother, and third sister, all severed ties with him, knowing he had driven his wife to death.

The villagers avoided him like the plague. After borrowing money to bury his wife and child, Jackson had to leave his childhood village in shame.

He moved to the city, working tirelessly and with a little luck, he caught the wave of economic reform, gradually amassing wealth. As he entered his middle years, he became the CEO of a listed company, one of the wealthiest men in the area.

But even with riches beyond measure, he never remarried. He remained indifferent to the various beautiful women who threw themselves at him.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to marry again—it was that since the day his wife had died, he could no longer perform as a man.

He had tried every treatment and method, both scientific and not, but nothing worked.

By the time he died from testicular cancer, the only people at his bedside were his assistant and his personal lawyer.

Jackson felt it was his just punishment, a fitting end for a man who had killed his wife.

Clutching the safety charm his wife had left him—the only keepsake she had given him—his last thoughts were filled with guilt and regret.

When he opened his eyes again, his head throbbed painfully, and he found himself staring at the dark, dilapidated ceiling of what seemed like an old room. He was stunned for a long time.

Hadn't he died in the hospital? How was this place so similar to his old home?

Confused, he pushed himself up. His eyes immediately landed on Sophia Evans, curled up at the foot of the bed, naked.

Her pale, beautiful face was marked with a sickly gray. Her once flawless skin was now covered with deep bruises.

Jackson's eyes reddened, and he rubbed them, unsure if this was a dream. He couldn’t stop himself from whispering hoarsely, "Honey."

The moment he tried to embrace her, she screamed fiercely, struggling violently.

"Get away from me, don’t touch me!" Her voice was full of pain and terror.

Jackson froze. As he watched her trembling, his mind raced. He suddenly remembered.

His wife had borrowed money from her family to buy cereal for their child, but in his drunken state, he'd taken it from her to buy alcohol. He’d then come home, drunk and violent, and tortured her in bed. He had even slapped her and cursed her.

Realizing this, Jackson cursed himself as a beast. In a fit of self-loathing, he slapped himself hard, his face quickly swelling, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth.

Sophia, her eyes wet with tears, watched him silently, offering a bitter smile.

She couldn’t even remember how many times this had happened.

Every time Jackson sobered up, he would kneel, crying, promising to change, and even slapped himself in remorse. But he had never kept his word.

She had endured the humiliation of his abuse, but she couldn’t bear seeing their child go hungry, crying without milk.

But she had no milk to give.

At that moment, the baby cried again, weakly, like a kitten, and for the first time in Sophia’s eyes, there was a spark of life.

In a panic, she put on her clothes, hastily covering herself, and picked up the baby.

The child cried louder, unable to suckle, and Jackson, still sitting on the bed, stared at the sight of his wife and child. It felt surreal, unbelievable.

Could it be the safety charm?

Before he died, he had faintly seen it glow.

In his past life, he had been alone, but now, unable to blink, he greedily watched the scene before him, afraid it would vanish if he so much as blinked.

The baby cried again, and Jackson could no longer sit idly. He quickly jumped off the bed and rushed out, grabbing the nearest clothes.

"Soph, wait here. I’ll get something for our girl to eat," he said, wiping away tears as he moved quickly toward the village’s only small shop.

Jackson felt rejuvenated in his second life. His young body felt strong, and he didn’t feel the joint pains and discomfort that had plagued him before. The surgeries and treatments for bladder cancer had left his body in tatters.

This was karma.

At the small shop, Old Larson smiled when he saw Jackson, revealing his yellowed teeth.

"Buying more booze? Same as usual?"

In his previous life, Jackson had been worth billions, with a sprawling business empire across multiple industries. He could have bought an entire milk powder factory with a single word.

But now, he was so broke that he couldn’t even afford a few coins for cereal for his child.

Shamefully, he asked for credit.

“L... Uncle Larson, can I put it on credit for cereal? I’ll pay you tomorrow.”

Old Larson squinted at Jackson’s red and swollen face.

Trashcan Jack, a tall man, looked like a towering iron pillar. It was hard to imagine that he had once squandered everything for alcohol.

Old Larson didn't say anything, but quietly grabbed a bag of cereal and handed it to him.

Jackson, grateful, rushed home without wasting a moment.

Before he even entered the yard, he heard the baby crying weakly, and he hurried inside.

His wife, still naked, her body bruised, wore nothing but a tattered coat. Jackson’s heart twisted with guilt.

His wife had brought clothes from the city, but he had traded them for alcohol.

His heart ached as he whispered, “Hey... I got the cereal.”

Sophia looked up, seeing the cereal in his hands. She immediately became defensive, clutching the baby tighter.

"I warn you, Jackson, don’t you dare sell my daughter. If you do, I’ll die with you. I curse the Zhao family with no heirs," she cried, her voice trembling with desperation.

Jackson stood frozen, vaguely remembering the time he had planned to sell their daughter to a childless couple in town to buy more alcohol.

His heart bled as he realized what he had done. He truly deserved to die from cancer.

Bowing his head, he placed the cereal on the worn-out bed. It was missing a leg, propped up by stones.

With tears in his eyes, Jackson murmured, “I was a bastard before. I wasn’t human. You have to believe me, I won’t sell our girl. Tomorrow, I’ll go to town and find work.”

After saying that, he turned and left the room.

Outside, he slapped himself again, hard. Blood trickled down his face.

Looking at the dark kitchen, Jackson shuddered. He remembered that it was here, at the end of the month, that his wife had jumped into the reservoir with their daughter, tying stones to her body to ensure she wouldn't survive.

His body shook as he rushed out the door again, heading toward the back mountain.

On the way, he picked up a net bag and a pair of old pants, causing dogs to bark at him.

Twenty minutes later, he arrived at the base of the mountain, stripped off his clothes, revealing a bronzed, muscular body.