This Life, Their Regret Is My Justice

A suffocating ache still burned in my nose. The moment I snapped my eyes open, I met Wendy Larson's tear-filled gaze.

"Rosalie! Thank goodness you're awake! Ricky's gone. Please, you must hold yourself together."

That too-familiar voice hit me with the sudden realization that I'd been reborn on the very day I gave my son, Ricky Lambert, the wrong injection and caused his "death".

I stared at the crocodile tears streaked across Wendy's face as white-hot rage surged through me.

In my past life, the so-called loving wife of my younger brother-in-law had joined forces with my husband, Terence Lambert, to dump Ricky in an orphanage. Then, she pretended to make a painful sacrifice by having me adopt and raise the ungrateful brat, Ryan Lambert, for them.

And I, like a blind fool, never saw through their vicious scheme.

Every time Wendy stopped by to visit her son, I'd volunteer for overtime, just to give her and Ryan more time together.

Now, thinking back, I could almost hear them cackling behind my back, mocking me as the world's biggest sucker.

My nails dug deep into my palms as I forced down the hatred boiling in my chest.

I'd take my time and make them pay for every single thing they'd done.

Phenobarbital didn't kill right away, which meant they had to be hiding Ricky somewhere.

Without wasting another second, I threw off the blanket and bolted for the door.

My sudden movement startled Wendy.

"Rosalie, what are you doing? Even if Ricky's gone, you have to stay strong. You're still young, and you can always have another baby."

Another baby? I almost laughed in her face.

Ever since Ryan moved in with us, Terence and I hadn't shared a single intimate moment. If we got even a little closer, he'd make a loud scene and broadcast it to the entire neighborhood.

In an age where newlyweds caught making normal nighttime noises were dragged out and paraded through the streets in disgrace, Terence and I turned into the most intimate strangers.

Now everything made sense.

By pushing me to adopt Ryan, Wendy effortlessly secured herself a transfer to Harborstone, while also getting a free caregiver to raise her son and a built-in spy to keep tabs on Terence and me.

She really played her cards perfectly, killing three birds with one stone.

When Wendy scrambled to hold me back, I pinched my thigh so hard that my tears burst from my eyes in a hot rush.

"Wendy, don't stop me! Ricky's gone, and I don't want to live either! Tell me where he is. I'm going with him!"

In my past life, I'd drowned in guilt, utterly convinced I'd personally killed my own son. I hadn't even seen Ricky's body before they buried him in a rush.

Wendy flew into a panic. She had just spirited Ricky away. There was no way she could show me the corpse.

All she could do was shriek, praying the noise would bring someone running in.

True to her hopes, the door slammed open.

My gaze locked onto a pair of bloodshot eyes.

The next instant, a strong, calloused hand clamped around my neck.

As Terence burst in, Wendy released her grip on my waist, relief washing over her.

The agony of suffocation ripped through me. I stared up at Terence's bloodshot eyes, my body trembling uncontrollably.

This was a horrific deja vu. He'd flown into the same blind rage before, blaming me entirely for Ricky's death and trying to strangle the life out of me.

Only the presence of his nephew, Ryan, could ever calm him down.

Back then, guilt had silenced me. When Wendy suggested I adopt Ryan, I hadn't protested.

Instead, I clung to the pathetic hope that Ryan might somehow bring light back into our shattered home.

He did bring light—just not for me.

Air drained from my lungs, and my vision blurred at the edges.

"Daddy!"