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His voice dropped lower. “You saw the news, didn’t you? The little warning on the LED TV?” Her eyes flickered. “…Yes, sir.” “Then why didn’t you turn back?” Her mouth opened, but no words came out. “And you saw they’ve never shown my face on the news.” He tapped his temple, eyes glinting. “But now you’re staring right at me. You know exactly what I look like. You think I’ll let you walk away?” “No! Please!” Isabella’s voice cracked, tears falling. “I promise with my mother’s grave—I’ll never speak of this! Please, just spare me!” Alessandro smirked, lifting his gun. “People like you swear. People like you also betray. Let’s see…” Her whole body locked. “No, no, please—” The gun fired. Isabella screamed. But when she opened her eyes, the bullet hole smoked in the wooden floor beside her. Her chest heaved. Her hands shook. She collapsed onto the ground, sobbing. Alessandro leaned back, laughing softly. Then—something in her snapped. She pushed herself up on trembling legs. “You want to kill me? Then fucking do it!” His brows lifted. “What the fuck is wrong with you gangsters?” she yelled, her voice shaking. “Do I look like someone who can hurt you? You almost made me wet my pants out there with your bullets. Do you think that’s funny?” One of his men growled, stepping forward, hand raised. “How dare you talk to the boss like that—” “Stop,” Alessandro ordered sharply, raising his hand without taking his eyes off her. Isabella’s chest heaved. “You think taking lives is funny?” She beat her chest with her fist. “Fine. I’m going to walk out that door right now. Shoot me if you want.”

Before I could shove my wife, Cheryl Craig, into the ocean, I turned myself in. The security guard frowned. "What? Are you saying that you're going to kill someone on this cruise?" I nodded. "It's 5:05 p.m. right now. In 20 minutes, I'll push my wife off this cruise ship. You need to arrest me, now." He stared at me like I had lost my mind. "You've got to be kidding! I've never seen anyone confess before the crime." He waved me off and started to walk away, so I had no choice but to start smashing things in the lobby. Only when the cuffs snapped around my wrists did I finally breathe again. In my last life, Cheryl was pushed off this very ship and fell into the ocean. Before I could even finish arranging her funeral, the police came for me. The ship's security footage clearly showed me pushing her overboard, but at that exact time, I was in a room with my father. There was no way I could've done it. I asked my father to testify for me, but he said I had already been planning to kill Cheryl for the insurance money because my company was falling apart. In the end, I was sentenced to death for murder. Even as I faced execution, I still couldn't understand it. I didn't do it, so why did everyone insist that I had? When I opened my eyes again, I was back to before Cheryl fell into the ocean.

"Please Tell me this is a dream" I screamed out as I saw the love of my life having his way with my so called best friend. The same day I came to tell him the good news about our future is the same day I died after I got my heart broken. I prayed, if there truly are powers that be, please grant my heart desires and give me a second chance. Fate smiled on me as I woke up back in time, the same day I took the wrong decision that led to my untimely demise. This time I had seen the future and I know better, it's time to play the players. Read and find out how Evelyn became the Vindicated Wife.

Led by my ex-boyfriend, the police raid the base of the major crime syndicate. The antagonist takes his own life, and the only person who could prove my identity as a top-secret undercover operative died two weeks ago. My ex-boyfriend drags me into court. He wants my memories extracted so I can face public judgment and sentencing. Nevertheless, I have no intention of explaining myself. "I plead guilty. Grant me a swift death." The masses are outraged, despising me with every fiber of their being. "Ha! You despicable traitor! You monster! You're a rat who exposes undercover journalists, yet you dare ask for a swift death? "This is the world of a novel. The maximum penalty for a guilty plea is euthanasia, but if judgment is passed by the court, you will suffer endless torment until your last breath!" "You don't deserve euthanasia. You belong in hell!" Rotten eggs and stones pelt me mercilessly. Even with my face now covered in blood, I make no effort to avoid the assaults. I only longed for death. My ex-boyfriend glares at me coldly. "You betrayed me. What right do you have to ask for a swift death? Your memories must be extracted and judged in court. Death will come only after your torment!" They are the ones who demand my memories be extracted and judged, yet after seeing them, why are they also the ones who go mad with regret?

I was an extremely selfish person. I drained my parents’ life savings, abused my young nephew, and extorted my husband’s premarital assets. My family could no longer endure it and took me to court. If the charges were proven, I would be flayed alive, my tendons torn out, tortured until death.

"The Rossi family doesn't need a Don. We just need a Donna." As the only heiress of the Rossi family, this was the law that I had set when I received the Browning pistol—a pistol that resembles the ultimate authority in the Rossi family—from my Papa when he was on his deathbed. But three years ago, the police relentlessly investigated the money laundering business that my fiance, Lorenzo Moretti, was in charge of. If that business were to get exposed, the Rossi family's hundred-year-old legacy would be ruined. In order to protect my family's legacy and to allow Lorenzo to continue legalizing my family's businesses, I decided to become the scapegoat for all the crimes. On the rainy night of my arrest, I personally handed the pistol over to Lorenzo. "Protect my family for me before my return." This gave Lorenzo legitimate authority to run my family. He used the pistol to purge my subordinates and take over the family business. He even broke my law by announcing to the public that he'd become the next Don soon. An invitation with golden borders is soon leaked from the family's inner circle. Lorenzo's and another woman's names are printed on the cover. During a visit, my private lawyer says mockingly, "If you don't get out of prison now, the Rossi family might take on another man's last name for real." I just sneer in response. After that, I get bailed out of jail in advance and return home to celebrate Lorenzo's "funeral". But no matter how many times I scan my iris at the biometric scanner in the estate, the result always comes out wrong. A young woman, who's toying with the pistol, opens the door at that moment. The contempt and disdain in her eyes are plain to see. "Where the hell did a crazy woman like you come from? You came to the wrong place. This is my private turf, you know."