Masuk
Evelyn barely slept. Sometime after two in the morning, Gale had finally returned to their bedroom carrying the unmistakable scent of expensive perfume and another woman on his skin. He slipped into bed beside her, draping an arm around her waist with practiced familiarity. Every instinct inside her screamed to shove him away. Instead, she forced herself to remain perfectly still until his breathing settled into a deep sleep. They must have been so engrossed in each other that Chloe didn't even bother reminding her about movie night. The shamelessness was appalling, but Evelyn couldn't care less. Only her meeting with Blackwood Enterprises mattered now. Her posture straightened the second the appointment confirmation illuminated her screen: 10:00 AM. Blackwood Enterprises Headquarters. They had agreed to see her. She immediately got out of bed, showered, and got dressed. Before leaving, she scribbled a brief note on a sticky pad: I have to meet a friend this morning. Please mak
I didn’t bother going to the main boardroom to look for Gale. After saving the displayed contact and staring at the screen for close to a minute, I turned on my heel and headed straight back to his office. I had seen enough for one day, and I had just stumbled upon a lead that might finally bring me to my son. If everything kept moving this smoothly, I would be free from this living nightmare much sooner than expected. I hadn’t been back in the office for more than a few minutes when the door opened and Gale walked in, holding a stack of folders. “How did your meeting go?” I asked casually as he pulled his chair out and sat down. “Pretty well. I selected an investor like I was supposed to, even if it wasn’t the candidate everyone assumed I’d pick,” he replied with a smug smirk. “Are you talking about the three men you turned down?” I asked, keeping my tone light and unbothered. He raised an eyebrow. “You heard about that already?” “I overheard the secretaries talking about it
Monday came slower than I could have ever prayed for. Spending two whole days stuck in the house with Gale and having to pretend that every single word from his mouth didn't make my skin crawl was agonizing. I couldn't help but be deeply wary of anything he handed me. Every plate of food, every glass of water he slid my way remained completely untouched, passed off under the carefully rehearsed lie that I would consume it later. It was irrational and I knew that. This Gale hadn’t poisoned me yet. But my body only remembered the burning sensation that had torn through my throat before everything went dark. My son—or rather, Chloe’s son—was even harder to navigate. I couldn't bring myself to hate the boy no matter how i tried. He might have been at the scene of my death, but what did a child under ten years old truly know? his parents were the ones to blame. So, I did my best not to act hostile toward him, even if playing the affectionate mother made my blood run cold. I spent t
I sat on the cold floor, my eyes locked on the painting staring back at me. I wanted to believe this was a hallucination my dying mind created—a final illusion before death claimed me, tricking me into believing I had a second chance. But with every tick of the clock behind me, reality refused to change and the truth sank in. This wasn’t a game. I was back three years in the past. Three years before my murder. I stayed in that spot for nearly thirty minutes, my thoughts racing faster than my bleeding heart. Why was I given this chance? How was any of this possible? But after agonizing in memories of my final moments, I realized the why and how didn’t matter. Only the what. I forced myself up, using the wall to steady my trembling body. What I did with this second chance was all that mattered. I knew how the story ended, and I’d never let history repeat itself. I had begged for another chance, bled for one, and now it was mine. I couldn’t waste time moping—not when my real ch
“If there was another life… if only there were another life.” Those were the words I managed to choke out as I stumbled over nothing and collapsed onto the cold marble floor of our mansion. Blood spilled from the corner of my mouth, staining the pristine marble until the crimson became indistinguishable from the wine seeping out of the shattered crystal glass lying beside me—the very glass my loving husband had handed me only minutes earlier. I clawed uselessly at the floor, the glass shards digging deep into my skin, but that sharp pain was nothing compared to the agony consuming my chest. My eyelids grew impossibly heavy, but I forced them open with everything I had left. I couldn't die like this… not like this. I choked, blood spilling over my lips again as I clutched my chest in a desperate attempt to dull the burning inside me. A pair of polished leather shoes stopped a few feet away from me. “Stop fighting it, Evelyn, it’s over already,” my husband Gale’s voice c







