Chapter 3

Lizzie gave a bitter smile.

Yes, in her past life, she had been nothing more than a jealous shrew—pinned to the pillar of shame by Cedric himself.

During her pregnancy, he had wielded that accusation daily, forcing her to leave him, to leave this home. He never uttered the word divorce, but only because he prized his reputation too much to play the heartless husband in the eyes of others.

Back then, she had been tormented, stripped of her dignity, reduced to a shell of a woman. In the end, she hadn't escaped her fate.

"So," she asked again, "do you still love me or not?"

Cedric threw off the quilt and got out of bed, his tone cold. "Stop asking brainless questions. What you need is rest. I'll sleep in the guest room."

He was fleeing—fleeing blindly, without even looking back.

…

Morning came.

When Lizzie came downstairs, Susan was in the kitchen, apron tied, fumbling her way through breakfast.

Cedric stood at the doorway, arms folded, watching her clumsy but endearing efforts. His lips curved with such indulgence it looked ready to spill over.

As if this home belonged to the two of them, and Lizzie was the unwelcome intruder.

Susan made a huge plate of hot waffles. It was too hot to hold, and she nearly dropped it, until Cedric stepped forward to take it from her. She tugged her earlobe, laughing coyly, her cheeks pink.

The scene was so warm, so intimate, it made Lizzie feel that her very presence was a sin.

When Susan turned and spotted her, panic flickered in her eyes.

"Lizzie," she said carefully, "I made breakfast. I don't know if it suits your taste."

Lizzie's gaze drifted to the dining table—two sets of plates and cutlery. Plain as day: this breakfast hadn't been prepared for her.

Hearing her footsteps, Cedric finally looked up. "Susan made breakfast," he said, softer now than the night before. "Your stomach's always weak because you skip meals. Eat a little."

His gentleness wasn't for her. It was to protect Susan, to spare his darling's feelings.

He forgot—Lizzie hated waffles. So did he.

"No, I have things to do," Lizzie said, refusing flatly.

Her day was more important. She had arranged to meet her lawyer friend.

Cedric paid her no mind. He no longer cared what occupied her, no longer worried the way he once had when even a hair appointment left him anxious for her safety.

When Lizzie changed her shoes and was about to leave, Susan hurried over with two pieces of bread.

"Lizzie, skipping breakfast is bad for you. Take these and eat if you're hungry later."

Avocado bread. Heavy on ingredients, but clumsy in appearance.

Susan explained shyly, "I baked them fresh this morning. They don't look nice, but they taste good."

"Take them," Cedric added. "It's Susan's goodwill."

Susan nodded and offered the bread again.

Lizzie studied her face for a long moment, then accepted.

But once she left the house, she tossed both pieces straight into a trash bin.

Reaching her car, she realized she had forgotten her keys—likely left on the shoe cabinet when she'd changed. Too rushed, too distracted.

She turned back.

Pushing open the living room door, she looked up… and froze.

Cedric had Susan caged against the dining table, their gazes tangled, heavy with intimacy, as if they couldn't bear to part.

So absorbed were they in their game of seduction that neither noticed Lizzie's return.

At that moment, her phone rang.

Startled, they both whipped their heads toward her.

She ended the call, her eyes catching the smear of avocado at the corner of his lips.

His face darkened.

Susan blurted out, panicked, "Lizzie, I—I slipped. Yes, slipped on a banana peel. That's all. It's not what you think. Please don't misunderstand."

Cedric wouldn't meet her gaze. "It really was… a banana peel. Don't get the wrong idea."

The lie was so clumsy it almost made her laugh.

A banana peel—did it ever imagine carrying such a burden of guilt?

"I know," Lizzie said lightly. She picked up her keys and left.

Cedric noticed something different.

She truly believed him?

Before, if he so much as walked too close to another woman, she would lash out, rage for days, and sometimes he'd have to coax her for months before she forgave him.

But today…

…

As she drove away, Lizzie called Eva Melbury and asked her to meet at the law firm.

It had been Eva who introduced her to the lawyer in the first place. Divorce was not a decision to be taken lightly—she needed advice.

Eva arrived earlier, her temper already boiling over. She had cursed Cedric to high heaven by the time Lizzie walked in.

"When he pursued you, I warned you—a rotten guy like him bends low when he wants something. But the day he stops loving you, he'll stab a knife straight through your heart. You didn't believe me. Well, here we are."

Her expression was grim.

Back then, she had badmouthed Cedric constantly, so much that Lizzie had stopped speaking to her for a while.

Later, when Lizzie married Cedric, they broke off contact completely.

Today's call had stunned her—until she learned the reason.

"I thought…" Lizzie murmured. She had thought Cedric would love her forever. But she had been wrong.

Most men carried a heavy thirst for novelty, and when it came to women, that impulse was particularly cruel.

"…Eva, I've decided. I'm divorcing him."

"You should've done it long ago," Eva said. Thankfully, they had no children—that spared her endless entanglements. "Lizzie, thank the heavens you and Cedric never had a baby. Otherwise, the real suffering would've just begun."

Lizzie gave a hollow laugh.

In her past life, she had been pregnant.

It was Cedric who robbed her of motherhood, who stole away her child before she ever knew if it was a son or daughter.

The memory stabbed her chest until she clutched at her heart, gasping at the pain.

The lawyer, Jean Tromp, quickly poured her a glass of water. "Investigating Cedric's finances will take some time. You can tell me your requirements now, and I'll include them when I draft the divorce agreement."

"Since he cheated, he should leave with nothing," Eva snapped.

But Lizzie knew better. That was impossible.

Cedric was no longer the man who once promised her the moon and stars. He would never admit to infidelity. Men were masters at shirking blame.

"When we married, my parents gave us a plot of land in Eyrinch City."

In her past life, that land had become an amusement park. Redding Amusement Park—Cedric's grand gift to Susan.

It had opened the day before Lizzie's death. This time, she would take it back.

Jean considered. "That shouldn't be a problem. Anything else?"

Anything else?

There was plenty she could fight for. But she no longer had the strength to wrestle with a man who had stopped loving her.

Eva read her silence and spoke for her. "That's all."