Chapter 2

Jasmine crouched before my deathbed, wearing the dark gray coat I'd given her in the past. She still looked as gorgeous as I remembered.

She looked at my emaciated form on the bed. Her last words to me were, "If I knew how obsessive you'd turn out to be, I would never have married you in the first place."

By the time I opened my eyes, I realized that it had already gotten dark outside.

I wasn't going to let this life turn out like that again. I was going to make her and Dexter pay with their blood.

…

The next morning, I went back to the villa to pack up my things.

The moment I pushed the door open, I saw Dexter sitting on the living room couch, hugging an oversized cushion. When he saw me, he grinned at me and slowly got up, deliberately holding a hand over his chest as he made his way toward me.

"You're finally here, Noah. I thought you weren't ever coming back to pack up your things.

"I've already done you a favor by categorizing all your stuff. You can see which things you want to take away with you."

While walking past me, he said in a low voice, "This villa is really huge, you know, and it's such a comfortable place to live in.

"Oh, by the way, I've switched out the bed in the master bedroom. The original one… Frankly speaking, Jazzy and I both think that it's bad luck."

Every word he said was like a knife to my heart. The tone he used on me was the same one I'd used on him when I brought him home many years ago.

Dexter was actually my foster brother. He grew up in my household, and Mom and Dad had always favored him over me.

I felt sorry for him still living with my parents in the cramped flat at home, so I offered to let him move in with Jasmine and me after we got married and moved into this huge villa.

Back then, I'd introduced him to Jasmine and said, "This is Dexter, my little brother. Please be nice to him."

Jasmine had smiled and nodded.

But then Dexter appeared in my master bedroom, wearing my sleeping robe, with my equally undressed wife lying next to him.

I stared at him, still holding a hand to his chest as the scene from my past life flashed before my eyes.

Right after she got pregnant with Dexter's baby, she began losing patience with me.

After being sent to the psychiatric hospital, I overheard the nurses gossiping that Jasmine had left everything to the child she had with him. But I was forcefully strapped to the bed then, and I couldn't even cry or lash out in despair.

Hatred and resentment surged in my chest, and I dug my nails firmly into my flesh until the skin on my palms broke. I wanted nothing more than to lunge at Dexter and punch him in the face, just to make him experience the same kind of suffering I went through back then—but I couldn't.

I had been given a second chance at this, and I wasn't going to let myself end up in the psychiatric hospital once more.

Instead, I took a deep breath and began packing up my things expressionlessly.

There weren't many things in my suitcase—just a few clothing items, a few books, and an old photo frame.

These were all the possessions I had to show for my seven years of marriage.

When Dexter saw that I wasn't reacting to his provocation, he got anxious and said, "Why aren't you saying anything, Noah? Do you feel horrible? Does it hurt?"

I looked at him and slowly curved my lips into a smirk.

"What did you want me to say to you, Dexter? Congratulations?"

He was stunned for a moment.

I continued, "I don't want this home anymore. Have fun."

Then, I dragged the suitcase out with me and left.

While leaving, I glanced at the hidden corner in the study. A miniature camera was installed there, recording the entire scene of me agreeing to the divorce with Jasmine the other day.

In my past life, I'd lost because I lacked evidence. But in this life, I was going to make sure every move I made was carefully plotted and documented.

That night, Jasmine met up with me to sign some additional documents.

She looked at the documents I slid back over to her and suddenly said, "You've grown a lot more sensible, Noah."

I set down my pen and asked, "You think I've gotten more sensible?"

Her hand stiffened while holding the coffee mug.

I said, "You don't have to pretend to look upset like this. It won't be nice if other people learned that you cheated on me to be with my brother. Don't you think so?"

She frowned slightly but didn't retaliate.

I knew that she wouldn't respond to my slight provocation. She was now most afraid that I would make a huge spectacle about this. She needed me to leave quietly and with dignity.

She needed the public to believe that the "real" reason for our divorce was the fact that we agreed to it amicably instead of her cheating on me with Dexter.

I'd hit the nail right on the head.

I knew her like the back of my hand, but I knew she couldn't say the same thing about me.

While preparing to leave after signing the documents, Dexter suddenly appeared at the door. He clutched his chest and shuffled in, whining softly, "Jazzy… My chest hurts really bad… It hurts…"

She immediately set down her coffee mug and hurried over to support him.