Chapter 1

My husband of three years poured me a glass of wine on our anniversary, kissed my forehead, and whispered, "Drink up, sweetheart"—the same wine that killed me in my last life.

I smiled, lifted the glass, and watched the candlelight catch the faint oily residue floating on the surface.

Funny how I'd missed that detail the first time around.

In my previous life, I had drained this glass without a second thought. Twenty minutes later, I collapsed on the bathroom floor, foaming at the mouth, while my beloved husband, Callum Voss, stepped over my convulsing body to answer a phone call.

His words were the last thing I ever heard: "It's done. Tell Sienna she can move into the master bedroom tomorrow."

Sienna. My best friend since college. The woman I had trusted to be my maid of honor.

She had been sleeping with my husband for the entirety of our three-year marriage—and I had been too stupidly, pathetically in love to see it.

But death has a way of sharpening your vision.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back at this exact dinner table, three years into my marriage, staring at the same glass of poisoned Merlot.

God had given me a second chance, and I was not going to waste it crying.

Callum sat across from me, his jaw sharp, his dark eyes soft with manufactured tenderness. He was still the most beautiful man I had ever seen. That face had fooled me once.

Never again.

"What's wrong?" he asked, tilting his head. "You don't like the wine?"

I twirled the glass between my fingers. "Actually, I've been cutting back on alcohol. Doctor's orders."

A flicker of irritation crossed his face—barely perceptible, gone in a heartbeat. But I caught it this time.

In my past life, he had insisted. He'd said, "Just one glass won't hurt," and I'd relented because I could never say no to him.

Tonight, I set the glass down, leaned across the table, and poured the wine directly into the potted orchid beside us.

Callum's composure cracked for a split second.

"Oops," I said sweetly. "Butterfingers."

He recovered quickly, laughing it off. "I'll get you another bottle—"

"No need." I stood up, dabbing my lips with a napkin. "I'm actually not feeling well. I think I'll head to bed early."

Before he could respond, I walked out of the dining room.

Behind me, I heard his phone buzz. He answered it immediately, his voice dropping to a whisper.

I didn't need to eavesdrop. I already knew exactly what Sienna was asking him on the other end: "Is it done?"

No, sweetheart. It's far from done.

In my previous life, I had been Callum Voss's cash cow—the sole heiress of the Wren Corporation, worth $6.2 billion. Our marriage had been a contract arrangement initiated by my dying grandfather, who had believed Callum was a trustworthy, self-made man.

What Grandpa hadn't known was that Callum's entire "self-made" backstory had been fabricated by Sienna's family, the Aldridges, who had been trying to get their hands on Wren Corporation for over a decade.

Callum married me for my inheritance. Sienna befriended me to keep me blind.

And the moment my grandfather died six months ago, leaving everything to me, they decided I was no longer useful alive.

I locked my bedroom door and sat on the edge of the bed, trembling—not with fear, but with rage so violent it made my teeth ache.

In this life, I would take back everything.

And I would make them watch as I did it.

But first, I needed to survive the next 48 hours—because if the wine didn't kill me tonight, Callum had a backup plan.

And that plan was already sitting in my medicine cabinet.