Fourth Life, New Husband

The fourth time I was reborn, it was the day I was to choose my husband.

The banquet hall was full of guests and laughter.

My father called me over with a smile.

"My precious daughter," he said, "have you decided who you'll choose as your future husband?"

Before I could answer, the guests began shouting Lance Riverford's name. Everyone knew I was infatuated with him. I'd declared countless times that I would never marry anyone but him.

There was no suspense to this ceremony. Everyone assumed I would choose Lance. After all, he had been my obsession for three lifetimes—and I'd been willing to die for him, again and again.

But all my unwavering love had brought me nothing but his betrayal and cruelty.

And when our eyes met once more—his filled with disgust—I felt an unexpected calm.

No one could have guessed what I would do next.

I glanced at the wooden panels laid out on the table, each etched with a name. Without hesitation, I picked up the one that bore the name of Lance's rival.

"I choose Jace Elden."

The room fell into chaos. Even my father looked at me in disbelief.

"Are you sure you want Jace as your husband?" he asked carefully.

Everyone knew Jace and I didn't get along. He was careless, cynical, and indifferent to family matters.

And the man I married would one day inherit the entire Mitchell family. Compared to the other four suitors—each accomplished and polished—Jace was far from ideal.

But what I wanted was simple—a heart that was real.

I nodded firmly. "Yes, Dad. I'm sure."

He studied me for a long moment, then smiled with indulgent affection. "No matter who you choose, I'll support you. Since you've chosen Jace, let's have the wedding in three days."

I agreed without hesitation.

When everything was settled, I went alone to the villa where the five of them lived to tell Jace the news myself.

But the moment I stepped inside, I saw Lance sitting on the sofa. His face was cold, the ashtray beside him overflowing with cigarette butts. It was as if he'd been waiting for me.

Even angry, he was devastatingly handsome—like a main character drawn straight out of a comic book.

But I didn't want to look at him anymore. Three lifetimes of tangled karma—it was time to let go.

I took a slow breath, walked past him, and headed upstairs.

"Stop!"

Lance's hand shot out, gripping my wrist, yanking me back down the stairs. His sharp eyes locked on mine. "Don't you think you owe me an explanation?"

If it were before, I might've mistaken it for jealousy. But not anymore.

I pulled my hand free, my voice cold. "Who I marry is my choice. You're just one of my five suitors. You don't have the right to ask."

His face froze.

After a long silence, he pressed a hand to my shoulder.

"Even though you'll never compare to Natasha," he said, "if you apologize to me now, I can still consider marrying you—for your father's sake."

So this was what my love had become—a bargaining chip in his arrogance.

"I'm talking to you! Answer me!"

His voice rose, desperate and sharp, but I only found it pathetic.

"I'm here for Jace," I said.

Before I could finish, his childhood sweetheart, Natasha Reddington, burst through the door.

"Lance, you promised to take me to the concert! Why didn't you come?"

Lance let go of me instantly and turned toward her. Even his back looked gentle.

"Natasha, I'm sorry. I got caught up with work. How about I buy you a bag to make it up to you?"

She shot me a smug look, her eyes glinting with challenge.

"Fine. But you'll have to stargaze with me tonight to make up for it."

"Alright, alright," he said with a smile. "Whatever you want."

In my past life, when I had a stomach infection, Lance would rather spend all night talking to Natasha on the phone than take me to the hospital.

Love or indifference—it was always that clear.