Chapter 1

When I died, my husband was on a yacht with my stepsister, celebrating their engagement.

For three years of marriage, I loved him like a fool. I gave him my family's company, my dignity, and my health.

In return, he signed my death warrant — a divorce agreement slipped under the ICU door while I was miscarrying his child.

After being reborn, I decided — this time, I would destroy them both.

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The sound of a heart monitor pulled me back.

I opened my eyes to the white ceiling of a hospital room. The smell of disinfectant filled my nose, sharp and familiar.

My hand moved to my stomach — flat, but not empty. Not yet.

I was pregnant. Still pregnant.

The date on the monitor screen read March 3rd. I counted backward in my head and my breath caught.

This was two months before the miscarriage. Three months before the divorce. Five months before my death.

I was back.

In my previous life, I had been so desperate to keep Nathan that I ignored every red flag. When my stepsister Vivian moved into our guest house, I welcomed her. When she started showing up at Nathan's office with homemade lunches, I told myself I was being paranoid.

When I found them in our bed, I blamed myself.

Pathetic. I had been so pathetic.

The door opened. Nathan walked in wearing a charcoal suit, his jaw tight, his eyes cold. He was handsome — the kind of handsome that made women stupid.

I had been the stupidest of them all.

"You're awake." He didn't sit down. He never sat down when he visited me in the hospital. "The doctor said you fainted from overwork. I told you to stop going to the office."

In my previous life, I had grabbed his hand and apologized. I had promised to rest, to be better, to be the wife he wanted.

This time, I looked at him and felt nothing.

No. That wasn't true. I felt something — a cold, clean fury.

"Where were you last night?" I asked.

Nathan's expression didn't change. He was a perfect liar. "At the company. We had a late meeting."

I knew exactly where he had been. Room 1207 at The Langham Hotel. With Vivian. I knew because in my previous life, I had found the receipt in his coat pocket three months from now and cried for an entire night.

"Okay," I said.

He looked slightly surprised. Maybe he expected me to press further, the way I used to.

"Your mother called," he continued, adjusting his cufflinks. "She wants you to sign the transfer documents for the remaining 15% of shares."

Ah. There it was.

My mother had died when I was ten. My father remarried — to Vivian's mother, Caroline. When my father passed away last year, he left me 40% of the shares of the Ashford Group.

In my previous life, I had transferred all of them. 25% to Nathan as a sign of trust. And the remaining 15% to Caroline because she cried and said the company was her late husband's legacy.

They had all been working together from the very beginning.

After taking everything from me, Nathan filed for divorce. Caroline pushed me out of my own family's company. And Vivian stepped into my place — as Mrs. Nathan Cole.

I died in a car accident three days after the divorce was finalized. The police called it an accident.

I knew it wasn't.

"I'll think about it," I said.

Nathan frowned. "Your stepmother is waiting. Don't make this difficult."

I looked at the man I had once loved more than my own life.

"I said, I'll think about it."

His eyes narrowed. For a moment, something dangerous flickered in them — something I had been too blind to see before.

Then he smiled. "Of course. Rest well."

He left without touching me. He never touched me unless someone was watching.

I placed my hand on my stomach and whispered, "This time, Mommy will protect you."

In my previous life, I lost everything because I trusted the wrong people.

In this life, I would take it all back — and make them pay.