LOGIN“You’re a magnificent couple,” Asher raised his glass for a toast, his eyes locked on me. “I’ll cover all the expenses for this wedding. Tell me, Amy, is there something special you want for your big day?”
He seemed so kind that I finally understood why I had trusted them for so long without ever suspecting their actual intentions. But I couldn’t forget that after we got married, the pressure for me to get pregnant became unbearable. Warren’s family even forced me to take medication.Only before I died did I learn that the potion was made from the remains of disgusting insects. Every dose made me vomit and suffer from diarrhea for days, yet I endured it for eight long years, just to give birth to Warren’s son.My stomach twisted at the memories. I had to fight the urge to throw up the little I’d eaten. A cold wave spread through my body, and my legs grew weak. Those memories haunted me, and all I wanted was tPOV AmyWarren choked. The red wine he was drinking shot up his throat, making him cough violently. The guttural sound of his gagging echoed through the dining room; tense silence minutes earlier now exploded into a nervous murmur.Disapproving eyes fixed on me, especially from Warren’s family, who seemed to judge me for causing such an awkward scene. Alice, his mother, rushed to help Warren, patting his back with exaggerated concern that, to me, looked like a performance for the audience. Warren took too long to catch his breath, his face red and his eyes a mix of shock and outrage.Inside, I celebrated. My plan had hit its target with surgical precision. I imagined Simon, wherever he was, enjoying Warren’s exposed desperation. This was only the first step.Aser, Warren’s father, a business executive with a permanently clenched jaw, abruptly rose from the table, throwing his linen napkin onto his plate with an irritated sound.“Amy,” he began, his voice rough and authoritative, “you
POV AmyI looked at Warren, and in that moment, a chilling clarity struck me: I understood why I had loved and trusted him for so long. He was a primary manipulator, a predator who wielded charm as his most effective weapon. His face was mere inches from mine, and the smile he held was so calm, so calculatingly sweet that it seemed perfectly sincere.His voice was deep, his words precisely measured, and his posture was that of a man who knew he held all the control. If I didn’t know the truth—if Amy hadn’t experienced her death and been reborn with the memory of what he was capable of—I would have believed him, melted into his power, and agreed to everything.The tension between us felt like a stretched wire, invisible to everyone else but vibrating and real to me. He expected a response from an adoring fiancée, a breathless confirmation that validated his importance.He repeated the question, his voice still a silky whisper. “Is it really true, Amy? You decided to move up our wedding
I woke up the next day, the morning sun filtering through the slits in my silk curtains, but the light couldn’t dissipate the cold fog hanging over my head. My first thought wasn’t about my plan, or Jackson, or Peter. It was about Sara.A sharp pang of longing hit my chest, mixing with the ache of her rejection. It was a cruel cycle. I fought to save her life, but with every step, she pushed me further away. If I were the old Amy, I would have immediately called Sara to ask what I should wear to the dinner, begging for her opinion. Sara would know how to prepare me for a high-caliber family event like today’s; she would know exactly which mask to put on to please everyone, and which dress to choose so that Warren noticed only my beauty and not my contempt.I closed my eyes, and the memory of a simple childhood day, when Sara and I lay in the backyard grass, laughing at silly jokes, flooded my mind. That was my safe place. Now, Sara was my biggest headache.I remembered the moment I to
POV AmyI left Simon at the bar, knowing he would move mountains to get Jackson released. I felt like a coward for making him handle the hard part of the night, but my focus now needed to be on Warren and my performance. Vengeance, after all, was mine.I hurried down the street, feeling the frosty night air brush against my skin. The weight of the news about Sara and Jackson burdened me. I had to call Simon as soon as I got inside, just to make sure Jackson was free and safe.I reached my front door, the mansion I was fighting to protect, and turned the key. The first thing I did was grab my phone, but Simon didn’t answer. I tried again, but the call went straight to voicemail. Anxiety tightened its grip on me.I stepped inside and headed toward the dining room, where muffled conversation sounds came from. My father, Antony, and my mother, Megan, were sitting at the table.“What a pleasant surprise.” My mother saw me first, her surprise evident in her voice. “You’re home!”My father l
The silence in the room was unsettling. Megan was no longer pounding on the door or screaming hysterically for Chloe to let her in. Ruan felt exhausted and bruised, but no wound seemed more painful than the one in his heart.Chloe remained standing, a safe distance from the bed, her hands crossed over her chest. She had held back her tears, but the pain she saw in his face—something uncommon in their years of marriage—was reopening old wounds. She forced her voice to come out cold and practical.“What does Megan have to do with your injuries?” She couldn’t help the stab of bitterness. She leaned in to look at him better, keeping a safe distance from her old and current love. “If you’ve decided not to tell me, I really need to go.”Ruan tried to move in the bed, and the pain made him groan slightly. Guilt hit him, a cold and sudden wave. Looking at Chloe—the strong woman he had so cowardly dismissed after Megan’s return—he realized how unfair he had been. He had trusted his destructive
Simon remained silent after my confession and the truth I revealed. I watched him shake his head slightly, lift the glass to his lips, and drink, holding his silence for long seconds that stretched into eternity. I began to think that telling him the truth about my rebirth had not been a good idea.Sara’s memory hit me. I perfectly recalled her reaction when I told her the same story: that I had traveled ten years back in time and that Peter, her current boyfriend, would murder her. All Sara did was find a way to push me away, deciding I was unstable or crazy. A chill ran down my spine. I feared Simon would react the same way, and everything I had built with him was about to crumble.“What you are saying is a little difficult to believe,” Simon finally whispered, breaking the silence. His dark eyes fixed on mine, his voice hoarse. “Can you prove it?”The question offended me. After everything he had seen, after all my predictions had come true, he still doubted me? My cold, controlled







