Chapter 1: The Night He Killed Me

I lay on the big bed in our bedroom, waiting for him. The sheets felt cool against my skin. I had put on the black lace nightgown he liked. The lights were low. Soft music played from the speaker in the corner.

Adrian walked in a few minutes later. He closed the door and looked at me with that smile I used to love.

“You look so fucking good tonight,” he said.

“Come here,” I whispered.

He pulled off his shirt and climbed onto the bed. His hands slid under the lace. He kissed me slow at first, then deeper. Our tongues moved together. He tasted like the wine we had at dinner.

“I’ve been thinking about this all day,” he muttered against my mouth. “Thinking about being inside you.”

“Then stop talking and do it.”

He laughed low and tugged the nightgown up over my head. My bra came next. Then the thin panties. His pants and boxers followed. Skin against skin. Warm. Familiar.

He pushed my legs open and settled between them. Missionary, just how we always started. He rubbed the head of his cock against me, then pushed in deep.

“Fuck… Lila,” he groaned.

I wrapped my legs around his waist and crossed my ankles behind his back. He thrust hard. Deep. Steady. The bed creaked under us. My hands gripped his shoulders.

“Harder,” I said.

He gave it to me harder. His hips slammed against mine. Sweat started to form on his back. I could feel every thick inch of him.

Then his hand came up to my throat. Soft at first. Just resting there while he fucked me. I didn’t think much of it. Sometimes he liked to hold me that way. It made the sex feel hotter.

His grip tightened a little.

Still not enough to worry me.

He kept moving inside me, deep and rough. My legs stayed locked around him. The pressure on my neck grew. Bit by bit.

I tapped his arm. “Adrian… ease up.”

He didn’t. His fingers pressed harder. My breath got short.

I tapped again, stronger this time. “Stop. That’s too much.”

His eyes changed. Something cold slid into them. He saw that I understood. In one quick move he pinned both my wrists above my head with one hand and crushed his other hand fully around my throat.

I tried to push him off. My legs kicked. He was still buried deep inside me, still thrusting, still hard as iron.

“Shh,” he whispered. “Almost done.”

Black spots danced in front of my eyes. I clawed at his wrist. Nothing worked. He was stronger. He had always been stronger.

While he choked me, words started spilling from his mouth. Low. Almost gentle.

“You never saw it, did you? All these years. Your little sister… Maya. God, the way she feels when I’m inside her. Better than you ever were. She moans so sweet for me. We’ve been fucking for two years, Lila. Right under your nose.”

I tried to scream. Only a broken sound came out.

He kept talking, hips still moving.

“I never loved you. Not once. I married you for Nexus, besides it wasn’t yours to begin with. For the company. You were the chairwoman. All that power. All those shares. I needed them. So I smiled. I said the right things. I made you sign papers you never read properly. Transfer after transfer. Quiet. Legal. Now it’s all mine. Every last piece.”

My lungs burned. Tears ran down the sides of my face into the pillow.

“You were useful. That’s all. And now you’re not needed anymore.”

I fought. I twisted. I dug my nails into his arm until blood ran. He didn’t stop. He kept fucking me while the air left my body. His hand never loosened.

Hatred filled every part of me that still worked. Pure, black hatred. I stared into his eyes and forced the last words out in a broken whisper.

“I curse you… Adrian. I curse every day you have left. You’ll never know peace. Never.”

His face stayed calm. Almost bored.

The room went dark.

Everything stopped.

I gasped and sat up so hard the sheets tangled around my legs.

Sunlight poured through the windows. Not the soft night lights of our bedroom. Bright morning sun.

I looked around, heart slamming against my ribs.

This was not our house.

This was my old apartment. The one I lived in before the wedding. The white walls. The small kitchen I could see from the bed. The calendar hanging on the wall.

I stumbled out of bed and stared at the date.

One year earlier.

The day before my wedding to Adrian.

My hands shook as I touched my own throat. It hurts a little like I was still being choked but no hands were on me.

But the memories were still there. Every single second of that night. His hand. His words. Maya. The company. The papers. The way I died with him still inside me.

Was it a dream?

I was alive again.

And this time I knew everything.