A scoff came from the other end of the line, followed by that unmistakable cool, aristocratic voice in my ear.

"Isabella, you wrote in the divorce agreement yourself that you'd leave without taking a dime."

"And look at you now - first it's mental distress, now it's a breakup fee. All this drama, just for money, isn't it?"

"Admitting you're materialistic is that hard?"

Even over the phone, I could picture Ronald with that smug smirk, eyes full of arrogance.

I narrowed my eyes, voice ice-cold. "Materialistic? Ronald, give it a rest. You never say anything nice.

"I'm not in the mood to argue. Think whatever you want, but that breakup fee? You're paying it."

"And why on earth should I?" he shot back, tone chilly as ever.

I clenched my teeth. "Because for the past year, I've been cooking your meals and picking out your clothes.

"Yeah, you make money - good for you. But I wasn't freeloading either. I ran every corner of that house, took care of your family. Hiring a full-time housekeeper would've cost you. I was more than that, and now I'm asking for some compensation. Seems fair, no?"

That's just this lifetime. If we count the last one too, I served him like a full-time maid for six years. Asking for a mere million... I'd say I'm still coming out short.

Ronald didn't care - his voice was calm, almost bored. "That's what a wife is supposed to do. You want a medal for that?"

I felt like my cheeks were burning. Nothing is more humiliating than having to ask someone for money. I didn't even want to in the first place. But my uncle is seriously ill and needs the money. I have no choice.

"Sure, a wife should care for her husband. But a husband's supposed to look after his wife too, isn't he? Have you ever taken care of me even once? Honestly, if it weren't for me, your stomach would've been a wreck ages ago from your junk food habits.

"Let's put it this way - I cooked, I cleaned, stayed on your mom's good side, and kept the peace at home. Given all that, can't you be even the tiniest bit decent in our divorce?"

He went quiet for a few seconds before speaking again, voice low and emotionless. "So what's your point?"

"My point?" I chuckled dryly. "My point is - fork over the money, and I'll disappear from your life completely. You'll never see me again. Deal?"

Ronald sneered. "Funny, your dad already called me. Said something about his company launching a new project. Sound familiar? You're suddenly begging for a divorce. not 'cause of love or pride, but because you're after the money, right?

"I'll give him the money. But you? You're going to attend one family dinner with me."

My face fell instantly.

So my dad had gone behind my back and talked to Ronald. I'd told him I'd handle it on my own. Guess he didn't trust me after all.

I didn't respond, and Ronald's deep voice came through again, cold as ever.

"Grandpa likes you. As long as you show up at the dinner, I'll fund your dad's project. That way you can go back to him with something to prove. Stop with the tantrums and divorce talk."

Jeffrey Wright really did like me.

The old man was still spry despite his years, had that sage-like aura about him. He was the only one in the Wright family who treated me kindly.

He'd even brought Ronald along in person to propose the marriage. Said I was graceful, smart, and perfect for his grandson.

He promised, too - if Ronald ever bullied me, I could go straight to him and he'd take care of it.

And Ronald definitely bullied me. I just never had the courage to speak up back then.

"And what if I don't go?" I asked flatly, throwing the question at him with more than a hint of challenge.Ronald's voice was calm and cold. "This past year, how many times have you begged me to help your dad? Tell me, when have I ever said no?"

"If you add it all up, it's easily over a million. That still can't buy you a ticket to one family dinner with me? Who do you think you are?"

I fell silent.

Honestly, he wasn't wrong. My dad did shamelessly ask for money like it was his birthright, and Ronald always stepped up. As a son-in-law, he did his job. Even as a husband, he never crossed the line. Just... he never loved me. So when I got hurt, he didn't care enough to lift a finger.

And me? I wasn't exactly innocent either. We were a business match, and both families profited from it. But feelings? Once mixed with benefits, even real ones feel fake.

"Fine," I agreed lightly. "From now on, don't worry about my dad. Whatever trouble he gets into, that's on him. But I want one million for the divorce. If you agree, I'll go with you to the dinner."

He gave a low, mocking laugh. "Whatever. I'll pick you up tomorrow."

"Okay. I won't be at home, I'm at-" I was about to give the address when he cut in, straight-faced. "Emma's place."

I was stunned. "How do you know that? Were you following me?"

He scoffed again. "Don't flatter yourself. You're broke, didn't go back to your parents' place, can't afford a hotel. Where else would you go?"

Was he seriously looking down on me again?

My face flushed with anger. I gritted my teeth and snapped, "Ronald, we're partners now. Try watching that tone next time."

He knew Emma was my only close friend. I had mentioned her after we got married, though not the fallout we had. because of him. Him figuring it out wasn't surprising, but it still stung.

"Mm." He responded so casually, like it didn't matter at all.

I was so angry I could scream. And when I finally calmed down, I cursed myself again.

Being a simp is bad enough, but being one for someone who's rich, powerful, smart, and completely out of reach? That's just pathetic.

He could crush me financially, look down on me, and still be ten steps ahead in every move. Every piece of me was in his hands-what pride could I even cling to?

In my past life, how was I ever this blind? But if he really was useless, I wouldn't have fallen so fast for him either.

I took a breath. "Come pick me up at ten tomorrow."

"Okay."

Thing is, there was a dinner just like this one in my last life too. And boy, did his mom tear me apart at that one.

She shamed me for not being able to have kids, called me worthless in front of everyone, and just wouldn't let it go.

I didn't fight back. I kept smiling, kept trying to please her-because I loved Ronald, and I thought loving him meant loving his family.

But she just got nastier. Verbal abuse wasn't enough. She actually forced me to drink some weird herbal stuff in front of everyone. Pinched my face and poured it down my throat.

That scene still burns in my memory-his cold family watching like I was some circus act. And Ronald? Just stood there like an outsider, eyes blank, doing nothing. I still made excuses for him back then, thought he just didn't want to argue with his mom.

Now, in this life, I've already clashed with her once. And tomorrow, I know she'll go even harder.

Just thinking about all that made my chest tighten. I suddenly wanted to ask.

To Ronald, what the hell do I even mean?

He married me-doesn't he feel even the tiniest bit of love?

I was just about to speak when a sweet voice chimed in from behind, "Mr. Wright, where did you put the medicine? Your stomach's acting up again-you can't keep ignoring it."

That voice was way too familiar-Grace, Ronald's dream girl.

I shut my mouth instantly and hung up without a word.

Seriously? He brought her home but is still dragging his feet about the divorce? Is the guy out of his mind?

And Grace... she's bold, huh? It's this late and she just strolls into a man's house like it's no big deal? Has she lost it? She might as well have just handed herself over on a silver platter. Giving Ronald a perfect chance, really.

But then again, what does it have to do with me? I'm basically his almost-ex-wife at this point.

I've decided-I'm done. All I need to focus on is living my own life well.

"Isabella, babe~"

Didn't even realize when Emma came back. She was standing there holding a jumbo bag of food.

"Remember that big meal I promised this morning? Here it is!" she grinned and gave the bag a little shake.

Just the sight of it made me perk up. "Wow, that looks delicious. You're the best!"

She plopped down beside me, started unpacking the food, and without raising her head, asked, "Was that idiot Ronald you were just talking to?"

I picked up a slice of pizza, nodded while munching.

Emma paused for a second, then looked up with an expression full of pity.

"Be honest with me, Isabella. Do you still. like Ronald?"

I shook my head firmly. "Nope. Not anymore."

I meant it, too. I really didn't like him anymore. The love was too deep in my past life, so sure, I'm still a bit raw sometimes. Hearing certain things still stings. But hey, I'm human.

Emma wasn't convinced. "Really?" She bit her lip, watching me closely. "So, say Ronald suddenly got his act together and started trying to win you back-what then? Would you give him another shot?"

"Not a chance. There's a higher chance of the sky falling," I chuckled. Nobody knows better than me how into Grace he is. But I got Emma's concern, and I looked her straight in the eye.

"No matter what happens, I'm not going back. I've already been shattered once over him, and once is enough. Never again."

Emma's eyes softened even more. She shoved a chicken drumstick into my hand defiantly.

"Exactly! Zero regrets. Let Ronald wallow in his own damn choices. Losing you, someone who loved him so deeply, that's on him-and he'll feel it forever."

"As for your single-life makeover, leave it to me. I know plenty of quality guys."

"Hot, loaded, and way better than that loser Ronald. Your dad'll finally stop worrying too. This time, we let them chase us, not the other way around."

I laughed at her antics. "Let's talk about that another day. I'm not in a rush."

Emma nodded, then suddenly asked, "Oh right, how did your interview go today?"

Ugh, the interview had been a disaster, honestly. I didn't want her stressing though, so I brushed it off.

"They didn't hire me. It's a big company, and they're looking for folks with experience. I've been a full-time housewife for a year-that didn't exactly help my case."

Emma looked a bit let down but quickly rallied, all bright-eyed again.

"No worries! I know tons of people. I'll help you find a job you'll love, just you wait!"

Watching her pitch me a whole new life, I couldn't help but smile and pull her into a hug.

"Emma, thank you. really. I'm lucky you're still here for me."

In my last life, for Ronald, I'd basically cut ties with everyone. When I died, I literally had no one. But now, I've got my friends back.

Even after a year apart, the moment we reconnected, it was like nothing had changed.

Emma paused halfway through biting into her chicken and gave me a light kick.

"You dummy. We're best friends, duh! Keep being this emotional and I'll eat your portion too!"I held back the sting in my nose and let go of her. "Emma, there's something I need to tell you-I ran into my uncle."

Emma blinked, clearly caught off guard. "Your uncle? Wasn't it like... years since you last talked? How'd that even happen?"

I filled her in, then added, "It was at my mom's grave today. He looked devastated. So much so that he had a heart attack right there. I was the one who took him to the hospital-he barely made it."

She paused, frowning thoughtfully. "You think maybe your dad never told them about the funeral back then? Maybe it wasn't that your mom's family didn't care."

I nodded slowly. "You might be right."

While pushing food into my mouth, she asked, "So, where is he now?"

"Still in the hospital. His heart's in rough shape. He needs surgery, like, ASAP," I said, pressing my lips together for a moment. "I just called Ronald. If I go with him to this family dinner, he'll give me a million as part of the divorce. That would cover my uncle's surgery."

Emma glanced over, eyes filled with sympathy. "Isabella, you really seem... different lately."

I let out a laugh. "Oh? In what way?"

She thought for a second before replying, "You just seem more grounded. Like, before, you were all sunshine and rainbows-even when people wronged you, you'd still smile. But now? You're keeping score and making smart moves. And the fact that you're actually using Ronald against himself? Girl, I'm impressed."

I used to pour everything into Ronald-totally, honestly. Even when splitting, I didn't want anything from him, not even a penny. I just wanted to walk away clean. And now? Here I was, asking for a million from him like it was business.

It didn't feel like anything the old me would've done, honestly.

I chuckled and passed her a drumstick. "Guess I finally started using my brain. Not such a bad deal, huh?"

She burst out laughing. "Fair enough! Smart is sexy, and with brains like this, I'm counting on you to make us both rich!"

We laughed until our cheeks hurt. Looking at Emma's beaming smile, I felt such warmth in my heart.

Coming back really was a blessing. I saw people for who they were, got my mind straight, found real friendship again, and even reconnected with family I thought I'd lost forever.

Everything seemed to be heading in the right direction, and honestly, that felt amazing.

Next morning, at exactly 10 a.m., Ronald called. "The car's waiting downstairs."

I grabbed my bag and headed out, immediately spotting the sleek black car parked by the road.

But once I got in, I noticed something weird-Ronald wasn't there.

"Where's Ronald?" I asked.

Michael, the driver, gave me a cheerful smile. "Mr. Wright had something come up. He'll be there later. Didn't say what exactly, though."

"Oh," I murmured, then leaned back quietly, watching the city blur past the window.

Still, I couldn't ignore Michael's looks in the mirror. Every few seconds, a not-so-subtle glance my way, like he was dying to say something.

I caught his eyes in the mirror and decided to just ask, "Michael, is there something you want to tell me?"

He hesitated, a little embarrassed. "Mrs. Wright, are you and Mr. Wright. having issues?"

My eyes flickered. "What makes you ask?"

He sighed. "Well, ever since you haven't been around, he's been dealing with stomach issues again. He refuses to go to the hospital, just toughs it out... it's painful to watch."

I knew Ronald had stomach problems. That one night, he even called me in the dead of night about where I'd kept the meds. But still.

I frowned. "Didn't he bring a lady doctor last night? Doesn't seem like he was suffering that much."

"Lady doctor?" Michael's eyes lit with recognition as he recalled. "Oh, her. She showed up on her own. Mr. Wright didn't call her. The person he was actually waiting for... wasn't her."

I didn't take his last sentence to heart. My mind was stuck on what Michael had said earlier: Grace went on her own.

That really messed with how I saw her. I always thought she and Ronald weren't that close in the first place-it was all him. Chasing after her hard, trying every trick in the book, took a full five years before he finally won her over.

So I'd always assumed Ronald had asked her to come over. Grace seemed like the sweet kind, too kind to say no.

Maybe Michael didn't know the full story. Or maybe he was just trying to patch things up.

But honestly, I stopped caring a long time ago. They could do whatever they wanted. As long as I stayed out of it, kept myself safe, and didn't repeat the mistakes of my past life, I'd be fine.

Seeing me lost in thought, Michael called me softly, "Ma'am, I've been Mr. Wright's driver for years, and to be honest, it's only when you're around that he seems... normal. Since you've been gone, he's just."

Before he could finish, the passenger door suddenly opened.

Michael instantly shut up. I saw Ronald holding a fancy-looking gift bag, placing it carefully on the front seat.

It looked way too elegant to be for his mom. Honestly, it had "for someone special" written all over it.

My gut told me it was probably for Grace.

Ronald glanced sideways at me, like checking whether I was in the car, then walked to the back seat. One long leg stepped in, then he sat down smoothly.

When he shut the door, a gust of wind followed him in, messing up the hair around my forehead.

With the wind came a faint scent-refreshing and calm.

The car started moving quickly.

I fixed my hair, then turned my head toward where the fragrance was coming from. That face hit me like a punch-absurdly handsome.

Straight nose, sharp jawline, those deep almond-shaped eyes that somehow looked both soft and distant. Tall frame, sitting upright.

His well-fitted suit, paired with a bold plaid tie, wasn't as stylish as the ones I used to pick, but with a face like his? Still looked like trouble in a suit.

Ronald, no doubt still the guy who could make me fall head over heels in my past life. That face? Total cheat code.

Maybe he felt my stare-he frowned and looked straight at me, eyes sweeping up and down with clear disapproval.

"What's with that look?" I raised an eyebrow at him.

He gave a half-smirk, then said casually, "Dressed like this for a family dinner? If someone didn't know better, they might think you're here to beg."

I glanced down at my outfit, then sneered, "Ronald, this is a few hundred bucks. You expecting designer vibes on a budget?"

Sure, it wasn't fancy, but it was clean, well put together-not some ragged mess.

"Change it," he said flatly.

I kept my eyes on the road, face blank. "No money."

He chuckled and gave me a quick look. "Figured. You didn't exactly land on your feet after leaving me."

I clenched my teeth, glaring at him.

"Ronald, that smug, superior attitude of yours? I've had enough.

"You keep mouthing off, I'm not showing up to the dinner."

"Oh really?" Ronald looked amused and shot back. "Like I care if you do."

I ignored his mockery-no point wasting words. The car fell back into silence.

When we pulled up at the Wrights' house, it was already full of guests. All dressed to the nines in designer suits and gowns, chatting and laughing in small groups, all smiles and social masks.

The Wrights were filthy rich, and even a so-called "family dinner" turned into a giant show of status. Everyone was subtly comparing, trying to come out on top. No one wanted to be the one looked down on.

I scanned the crowd. No sign of Grandpa Wright. But I did spot Lisa, dressed to impress, mingling and laughing like the perfect hostess.

Same as last time-just like before. This gathering was clearly her doing again.

When she saw Ronald and me arrive, her perfectly-maintained smile grew wider and she headed straight for us.

Trailing behind her was a teenage boy, maybe eighteen or nineteen. His features bore a clear resemblance to Ronald, but with a cocky grin and an unruly air-nothing like Ronald's calm and composed demeanor.

That was Matthew Wright, Ronald's notorious younger brother.

Lisa lit up the moment she saw Ronald. "Ronald! I've been waiting ages-what took you so long?"

"There was a little hold-up on the way," he replied politely.

She gave his face a once-over, worry instantly blooming in her eyes as she reached out to touch his cheek gently. "You look thinner. I heard from Linda that your stomach's been acting up again. Feeling better now?"

Ronald subtly dodged her hand and replied with a low voice, "No need to worry. It's much better."

Lisa's eyes softened as she nodded, but the next second, that warmth disappeared as she shot a reproachful glance my way.

"As his wife, shouldn't you be taking better care of him? He's sick and you don't even notice?"

Ronald and I were just putting on a front today-mutually beneficial. I had no time or interest in entertaining her accusation.

Seeing that I didn't react, Lisa narrowed her eyes at me before returning to her sweet persona as she looked back at Ronald.

"Your father's waiting in the study. Go on up."

Ronald gave a slight nod and headed upstairs, leaving me behind to face the mother-son duo.

I stayed calm. I'd seen this play before-too many times in the last life. Back then, I'd be anxious and walk on eggshells, terrified of upsetting her. This time? Let it rot. I wasn't playing along.

Lisa spoke again, this time with a graceful smile. "It's a cozy little family dinner tonight. Just our folks around the table."

"Honestly, everyone's probably sick of the cook's dishes by now," she added, glancing sidelong at me with obvious intent. "Why don't you show off your cooking skills a bit for the family?"

The moment she said that, eyes started turning my way. Some of the younger folks, clueless to the undertone, even clapped and cheered.

The older ones? They sensed the hidden tension and stayed quiet, just watching.

I straightened my back, looked calm as ever, and replied lazily, "Sorry, I'm not that great in the kitchen. Don't want to ruin everyone's appetite."

Up until now, Matthew hadn't said a word. He dropped into a chair, kicked up one leg casually, and smirked.

"Come on, Isabella. Didn't you take some cooking classes just for my bro? Rumor has it even he, with his picky taste, was eating like a king. So making dinner for the family should be easy, right?"

"Or. you just don't want to?"

I didn't even sugarcoat it. "Pretty clear, no? Yeah, I just don't feel like it."

His smile froze for half a second before he gave a cold snort.

"So... it's only been a year and your true colors are already showing, huh? This lazy attitude-how are you even good enough for my brother?"