LOGINAshley Connor died with regrets. She regrets loving a cruel man her entire life at the expense of her child and her dream job. If she could only turn back the time, she swears never to be the ‘trophy’ wife that she is. If she could, she would never beg to be loved by him ever again. When she wakes up, she returns to the most crucial time of her life and her child is still alive! Ashley decides to change the future and save her child. She will divorce her cruel husband and pursue her dreams while being the best Mom ever! But why is the renowned King of Hell in the business world knocking on her doorstep again? Why is he bribing her son for a date with her?
View MoreEver since their first fight, life had not gotten any easier for Talia. If anything, it had become even harder.Lucas, once patient and composed, had grown irritable and restless. He hated being weak, hated relying on her, and the frustration bled into everything he did. He snapped more often, his words sharper than he likely intended, but the damage was done each time. And Talia—Talia, who had already carried so much weight on her shoulders—chose to step back instead of fueling the fire.Not for herself, but for Tasha.Their daughter, still too young to understand the depth of their struggles, had always been a bright spark in their darkest days. Talia refused to let that spark fade.So when Lucas’s voice took on that cold edge, when his temper flared over something as small as her adjusting his pillow or offering to help him sit up, Talia swallowed her own frustration and let it go. She bit back the pain, the hurt, and the urge to lash back. She stepped away before Tasha could see,
The days had turned into months, and Talia had settled into a relentless routine.Between taking care of Lucas, working at the library, and making sure Tasha had everything she needed, there was never enough time. But today—today was different. Today, something miraculous had happened.Lucas had woken up.After months of watching him waste away in his coma, after months of feeding him, cleaning him, speaking to him without response—he had opened his eyes. He had whispered her name in a voice so weak and fragile that it had nearly broken her. But he was awake. He was alive.“W-Wife…” He whispered.Talia froze in shock for a split second before she cried out in surprise and happiness. “Lucas?!”And for the first time in what felt like forever, Talia saw hope.She had spent the day by his side, holding his hand, talking to him, helping him sip water from a straw. His body was weak, too weak to even sit up on his own, but he was there. He was present. It was more than she could have ever
The days blurred into an endless cycle of exhaustion.Talia barely slept anymore.Between tending to Tasha at the hospital, checking on Lucas at home, and working at the library to keep them afloat, there was no time to rest. Every hour of her day was spoken for, every moment accounted for. It was a delicate balance, one that she couldn’t afford to lose, but the weight of it pressed down on her like a vice.Her body was slowly giving out.Tasha’s fever had finally broken, but she was still weak. The doctors wanted to keep her in the hospital for a few more days to monitor her condition. Lucas, on the other hand, had taken a turn for the worse. His body was growing frailer by the day, and without proper medical intervention, she feared the inevitable. She knew he needed professional care, but there was no money for that. Every cent she had went into keeping a roof over their heads and putting food—what little she could afford—on the table.She had no one to turn to. No allies. No suppo
The apartment was small—too small for three people, especially when one of them needed around-the-clock care. Talia stared at the single bed pushed against the wall, where Lucas lay unmoving, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm, unaware of the world around him. In the other corner, her daughter, Tasha, sat cross-legged on the floor, coloring with the few crayons she had managed to bring from their old home.Talia let out a slow breath, exhaustion pressing against her shoulders like an invisible weight. She had lived many lives, died twice, and yet, nothing could have prepared her for this.Her old lives had been filled with power, darkness, and control. She had never known the taste of struggle, not like this. It was absurd, really. Once, she had commanded armies of men, had resources at her fingertips, had struck fear into the hearts of people with nothing but her name. And now, she was in a rundown apartment with peeling wallpaper and a rickety heater that barely worked.
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