On my wedding day, my best friend, Beatrice Hopper, buys a lottery ticket from a convenience store and gives it to me as a wedding gift. I initially believe that she's joking, but when I see the unmistakable disdain in her eyes, I know something is off.

"They say it's the thought that counts. This gift is precisely how I show that I care. Besides, I'm pregnant and need money for everything right now. I don't want you to feel bad about taking my money," she says.

Honestly, I'm disappointed. But since it's my wedding, I can only stand there and watch as my best friend drags her entire family to the reception for free food and drinks.

As expected, the wedding ends on a sour note. The two of us part ways unhappily.

What I don't see coming, though, is winning 50 million dollars in the lottery that night. Elated, I tell my husband the news, and we head to the lottery office first thing in the morning to claim the prize.

The news quickly spreads among our friends and family. But by the afternoon, Beatrice pounds on my door, demanding I return the lottery ticket.

"I should've been the winner!" she screamed. "I was the one who bought it, so why should you take away my prize?"

I keep backing away from her, panic flooding my entire body, so much so that I don't even notice she's holding a knife. The last thing I expect is for her to swing it at me in the middle of our struggle.

By the time I realize what's happening, the blade is already buried in my husband's chest. I try to call the police, but Beatrice yanks me back. We grapple, stumble, and crash through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Eventually, we fall to our deaths in the courtyard below.

The universe must've had mercy on me because when I open my eyes again, I'm back at the moment she hands me that lottery ticket.

Here comes my second chance.

As soon as I came to my senses, my hand froze midair.

A second later, Beatrice Hopper smacked it away. A sharp sting shot across the back of my hand, jolting me awake.

That was when I realized I had been reborn. Somehow, I was now back at my wedding venue.

Beatrice, my best friend since childhood, shot me a vicious glare. Then, she casually slipped the lottery ticket—the one she was supposed to give me as a wedding gift—back into her own pocket.

As she did so, she checked it several times to make sure it wasn't bent or damaged.

"What are you doing, Bea?" I asked. "Weren't you giving that to me?"

Without warning, she exploded in a fit of fury. "Give it to you? Who said I'm giving it to you? This is mine. I bought it for myself! Who do you think you are to take something from me?"

I glanced at the string of numbers on the lottery ticket, and sure enough, they were identical to the ones she had given me in my previous life.

But what she didn't know was that this ticket wouldn't win anything.

The only reason I ended up with 50 million dollars in my past life was that I had bought another ticket for myself. The real winning ticket had never been hers to begin with.

The lively wedding hall fell silent after Beatrice's outburst.

Dozens of eyes turned toward the two of us. A few of our ex-classmates hurried over, trying to calm things down.

"Hey, what's going on with you two?"

"Why are you two fighting?"

Shirley Hill, who witnessed the whole thing earlier, couldn't resist saying, "Come on, Beatrice. It's Lucy's wedding today. Giving her a lottery ticket as a gift is cheap enough, and now you're trying to take it back? That's ridiculous."

In an instant, fury lit Beatrice up like a match. She widened her eyes and shoved Shirley hard. "What do you know, huh? Bitch, what exactly do you know? That ticket is mine to begin with!"

Her crazed look scared the guests around us, and everyone stepped back in alarm.

It was then that I finally understood—Beatrice, too, had been reborn.

In our previous lives, she'd handed me the ticket, saying, "I bought a lottery ticket specifically for you. Keep it safe, okay?"

She stuffed the ticket into my hand, adding, "They say it's the thought that counts. This gift is precisely how I show that I care. Oh, and my due date is six months away. As my baby's future godmother, you should prepare a proper gift, got it?"

At first, I didn't even react. I honestly thought she was joking because we had known each other for more than two decades. Besides, when she got married, I had been busy running around for her.

From her wedding gown to her diamond ring, even the designer bag she carried, I bought them all for her. Back then, she had even promised me that she would be my bridesmaid when it was my turn, no matter how busy she was.

So, when my husband, Benedict Clark, and I set a date, I told her almost immediately. Surprisingly, I was turned down.

"I'm pregnant, so I can't be your bridesmaid," Beatrice said resolutely. "Being one is all hard work and dirty tasks. Do you really want to put a pregnant woman through all that?"

Frankly, I was hurt, but I also understood the situation. After all, a wedding would indeed be exhausting for a bridesmaid.

"Lucy Winslow, are you playing dead? Hey, I'm talking to you. Are you deaf or something?"

Beatrice's sharp voice pulled me back to the present. I clenched my fists without even realizing it, thinking of how I had died in my previous life because of her.

"Since Shirley was kind enough to lay it all out, I might as well be straight with you!" she shouted. "From today on, Lucy and I have nothing—absolutely nothing—to do with each other! We'll be no different than strangers."

She climbed onto a chair, leaning on someone else for support as she waved her arms dramatically in the air.

"Listen up, everyone! Anyone who reclaims the gift they gave Lucy will, in return, receive 5,000 dollars in cash from me!"

Everyone gawked at Beatrice like she had lost her mind, but she didn't mind. She pulled out her phone, called her husband, Rupert Payne, and had him withdraw all the money from their accounts.

After that, she turned to me with a smug grin on her face. "Oh, Lucy. Don't look at me like I did you dirty. Blame yourself for taking what didn't belong to you in the first place."

Beatrice was practically grinding her teeth after she'd finished speaking.

Everyone felt the tension between us and tried to pull her aside, but it was all half-hearted. Deep down, more than anything, they wanted to see how this whole situation played out.

By then, we were only 15 minutes away from the official start of my wedding. People crowded around us, whispering and murmuring, "It's her wedding today. Can't they do this afterward?"

Beatrice held her head high. "I'll say it again. If any of you cut ties with Lucy right now, I'll reward each of you with 5,000 dollars!"

No sooner had she said it than Rupert came running over, panting, carrying a big black duffel bag. She ordered, "Put it on the ground!"

With a grunt, he set the bag down and carefully unzipped it. "Honey, 200 thousand dollars—our entire savings—are all here."

Everyone, including Shirley, froze at the sight of the pile of teal bills.

Shirley gasped, her voice tinged with newfound awe and flattery. "Hey, Beatrice. Are you serious about what you just said?"

Beatrice snorted. "Of course. I never lied. Besides, I'm richer than you all think."

Before that bag of money appeared, her words would've sounded nothing more than crazed rambling. Now, with the cash in plain view, everyone had to take her seriously.

Shirley, always quick to read the situation, tilted her head and looked at me. "Lucy, I wish you a happy wedding—I really do—but could you return my gift?"

Before I could answer her, Beatrice had already compiled 5,000 dollars in cash and shoved it into Shirley's hands. "Limited time offer, everyone! First-come, first-served!"

Seeing that Beatrice meant business, everyone rushed forward to reclaim their gifts, including a few of my relatives.

"Lucy, I know this will make you uncomfortable, but who could resist the temptation of money?" Aunt Sylvia said, shaking her head. "It's 5,000 dollars! That's way more than what I earn from housekeeping in a month!"

She spun around, practically screeching, "Over here! I'm cutting ties with my niece right now! Can you give me a little extra?"

The few remaining guests in the hall had gathered around Beatrice. And within minutes, the bag that had seemed so stuffed before was now emptied out.

Everyone quietly counted their money, while Beatrice tiptoed toward me. I frowned in confusion as she called the venue manager over.

Pointing at the beautifully decorated hall, she asked, "How much would it cost to rent out this entire hall right now?"

The manager glanced at me nervously, then turned back to her. "I'm afraid that's not possible, miss. This hall has already been—"

She cut him off. "I'll double what she's paying!"

He froze briefly, then tried again. "Well, our policy states that—"

"Triple!"

His hesitation was showing, and he was visibly flustered.

Beatrice said, "You know what? I'll pay four—screw it—five times the price! I want to rent this hall right now!"

By then, the manager could barely stand firm. He didn't even ask for my go-ahead and just nodded in agreement. "Alright, fine! I'll start changing the hall setup immediately."

The whole time, he acted as if I didn't even exist.

"It's okay. The decorations can stay," Beatrice said, smirking at me with a provocative raise of her brow. "Just discard that wedding photo in the center of the stage. The rest can stay."

At last, the manager pulled me aside. "Mrs. Clark, I'm sure you saw what happened. Our hall primarily exists to generate revenue. So… We'll cover any breach-of-contract penalties. You don't have to worry about a thing!"

I smiled dryly in response. "How kind of you to tell me not to worry, you backstabber."

The manager's face paled at my words. But shortly after, he snorted and signaled two staff members to toss my wedding photo out.

I couldn't catch it in time, so it landed face down on the floor.

As I bent to pick it up, Beatrice stomped on the photo, right where my face was. I looked up and met her scornful gaze.

"Back when you had it better than me, you looked down on me at every chance you got. Now, it's finally my turn to stick it in your face! I'm finally rich—as I should be!"

I clenched my jaw. "I looked down on you? When did that ever happen?"

"Playing dumb, huh? What were you thinking when you gave me that diamond ring in front of all my friends, huh?" she questioned, pressing her foot harder on the photo and twisting it around. "Just admit it—you were trying to show off!"

I burst into laughter. So, that was when Beatrice started despising me. It was no wonder she had reduced contact with me ever since she got married.

As it turned out, I was foolish enough to keep showing up for her.

In truth, I didn't buy her the diamond ring back then because I wanted to show off. I did it because she told me she loved it. Alas, due to her limited budget, she couldn't afford one.

Little did she know, I couldn't either at the time. I had to work overtime for a month at the company and even dipped into my savings to even afford it.

I had been an orphan since I was little, growing up eating at other people's tables. From the moment I met Beatrice, I treated her like family.

Now, looking back, I realized it had all been one-sided. Thankfully, I realized it in time.

The wedding photo was ruined anyway, and I no longer wanted it. Slowly, I straightened up. "Don't regret this, Bea."

It had cost me 50 thousand dollars to book this venue hall. Now, she would have to pay five times that—a grand sum of 250 thousand dollars.

Beatrice scoffed. "Me, regret? You're so short-sighted, Lucy. Wait until you see how much money I have. I'm sure that by then, you'll be begging to make up with me on your knees."

No sooner had she finished speaking than my husband, Benedict, came out of the makeup room. We were supposed to greet our guests together before the wedding, but Beatrice had accidentally spilled a drink on him earlier.

Thus, he had been stuck changing clothes with the help of the makeup artist all this time and had no idea about the unfolding chaos.

"What's… going on? Beatrice? What on earth are you doing?"

He saw our discarded wedding photo and reached for it, but two security guards stopped him.

"What do you think you're doing, Bea?" I seethed, shaking with anger, only to be pinned down by the bodyguards too.

"This is my venue now, and I don't welcome you two. In fact, you don't even deserve to breathe the same air as us. Hence, the bodyguards."

She waved impatiently, and the guards roughly shoved Benedict and me toward the door. She strutted out, her belly slightly protruding, holding a piece of paper in her hand.

Then, she had the manager stick it to the glass door at eye level.

The notice read, "No scum allowed!"