My Best Friend Stole My Husband, So I Rewrote My Fate

My best friend was a self-proclaimed loyalty tester.

She said she was afraid I'd get hurt by cheaters, so every time I started dating someone new, she'd transform herself into his ideal type and pursue him relentlessly until she lured him into bed.

Every single time, she'd send me photos of them together:

"Bestie! If it weren't for me protecting you, you'd have been fooled by another scumbag! Aren't I good to you?"

It drove me to the brink of a breakdown. I cut her off completely and moved to another city.

Then I met the love of my life—Clay Vance.

On the day of our wedding reception, I came face to face with my so-called best friend, disguised as a makeup artist.

"Bestie! Let me finish testing him before you tie the knot!"

She drugged me unconscious, put on my wedding dress, and crawled into Clay's bed.

I woke up just in time. I brought people with me, burst into the bridal suite, and had her hauled off to prison.

Later, I got pregnant. During delivery, I hemorrhaged.

Clay watched me writhing in agony and refused to sign the consent form to save me.

"Roberta just wanted to give herself to me before the wedding—to fulfill a wish!"

"But you threw her in prison and drove her to suicide! When she died, she was carrying my child!"

"You and that bastard in your belly should pay for her life!"

Only then did I realize that the man I thought was the love of my life had fallen for my best friend long ago.

I died an unjust death. He didn't even spare my ashes—he dumped them in a gutter.

Then I opened my eyes again.

I was back on the day my best friend showed up at my wedding, disguised as a makeup artist.

——

When my eyes focused, I saw Roberta Harding's face again—that familiar, stunning face.

Just like in my previous life, she pointed at me and howled with laughter.

The people around us had their phones out, cameras shoved in my face, snapping photos.

I didn't need to guess what they were laughing at.

I looked calmly into the mirror.

Sure enough, stamped across my face in blue ink were the words "GRADE-A INSPECTED MEAT"—exactly like last time.

"What's going on? What happened? What's so funny?"

The door swung open, and Clay Vance strolled in wearing his suit, a smile playing across his handsome features.

Roberta giggled and bounced over to him, grabbing his wrist.

"Mr. Vance, I set up a little pre-wedding prank for you two. What do you think—funny, right?"

Her foot slipped. She let out a soft gasp, as though she'd lost her balance, and tumbled right into Clay's arms.

She looked up at him, her cheeks flushed pink.

"Sorry."

That was her favorite little seduction trick. I'd seen it more times than I could count.

In my previous life, the moment I opened my eyes and saw Roberta standing over me like a nightmare come to life—saw my long-awaited bridal makeup ruined beyond repair—watched her flirt and pull the same old moves to seduce my husband—

My fear and rage had come crashing down like a flood.

I'd screamed and lunged at her, ripped her away from him, and slapped her across the face.

I'd shrieked: "Get out! You're trying to seduce my boyfriend again, aren't you? I won't let you get away with it!"

Clay had immediately called the bridesmaids over to hold me down.

Roberta had cowered in the corner, face red, eyes brimming with pitiful tears:

"I didn't do anything. Mrs. Vance, you've misunderstood. This was just a pre-wedding prank."

No matter how I tried to explain—that she was a loyalty tester, that she'd seduced boyfriend after boyfriend, that she'd destroyed relationship after relationship—

Roberta just stood there, trembling and crying:

"I really didn't! I don't even know you. I'm just a makeup artist."

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I'll get on my knees and apologize if you want. Please stop making up stories about me…"

Everyone had whispered among themselves:

"A loyalty tester? She reads too many novels. People like that don't exist."