I sighed and rubbed away the bead of sweat that ran down my forehead. The stress of working overnight at St. Martin's general hospital was getting to me, but that was what I signed up for when I became a nurse. I smiled when I felt a tap on my shoulder before I heard her voice.

"Go on your break, Melanie. You've done so much work." Alana said as she took the cart from my hands and smiled at me.

"Thank you." I chuckled and conceded, not wanting to be here any longer than I needed to. I walked through the hallway towards the reception with one thought on my mind. My husband, Davon.

I licked my lips and took out my phone to call him. One ring. Two rings. Three. Nothing. I huffed and tried again, the call cutting off just when it started to ring. A frown creased my forehead. Davon always answered my calls, especially this late. For the past two years, he'd been distant, coming home later, showering immediately, barely touching me. The kind of signs I'd told myself I was imagining but it had happened so much that I was sure we had issues in my marriage. Where they were coming from I was not sure.

I had asked Davon multiple times but he always shrugged it off saying that we were okay.

But I was sure that I wasn't imagining anything. We had issues.

I switched through apps, pulling up our home security cameras. It was late, so he'd be back from work by now. My finger hovered over the screen before I tapped the living room camera. Nothing. The kitchen. Still nothing. Then I switched to the bedroom camera and everything changed.

I saw Davon all right, safe and sound, thrusting into a woman whose face I couldn't see as she moaned his name and pawed at him, pulling him close. My eyes widened in shock and my mouth went slack. But that was only the tip of the iceberg.

Just as I stood frozen to the ground, a man stepped into the frame, naked and eager. He walked over to Davon and stopped him with a passionate kiss before he pulled my husband away from his mistress and bent him over. My hand flew to my mouth as I watched my husband being fucked by a stranger, his fingers digging into the satin sheets I picked out and his face contorted in pleasure, his moans even louder than the mistress.

The woman in the footage smirked and moved over to them, inserting herself where she could. I could feel bile rising to my throat, forcing me to throw up on the hospital floor as my world spun. My husband of five years was having a threesome with a man and a woman, and from the looks of it, this wasn't a one-time thing.

"Melanie!" I heard Alana's voice call out to me as she rushed over, her hands steadying me as I spat out the remaining vomit in my mouth and wiped my lips. "What's going on? Are you okay?"

I ignored the question, pulling away from her grip. "I've got to go. Sorry for the mess."

I rushed towards the hospital doors,ignoring Alana's shouts of concern. I needed to get home. I needed to catch him in the act. I needed fucking answers from this man.

It didn't take long for me to get into my car and drive home, neglecting the speed limit. I was barely parked in our apartment driveway when I threw open the door and rushed inside, making a beeline for the bedroom as soon as I got out of the elevator. I paid no mind to the strewn clothes around our house that I hadn't noticed on video and barged into my bedroom.

I wasn't disappointed when I caught all of them still entangled in the sheets, their bodies making me retch. Davon's eyes caught mine in a split second, and like I expected, he pulled away from them both, eyes wide and hands outstretched in a pleading manner.

"Melanie, I can…" He started, those blue eyes piercing the depth of my soul.

"Explain?" I finished for him, my eyes finally seeing red. "How do you explain being in bed with two people? How do you explain fucking a woman in our bed? How do you explain being bent over and getting fucked by someone half your age?" I spat out, glancing at the barely legal looking guy in my bed.

"Hey, I'm 21," the guy spoke up, but I sent him a glare that could melt steel. Twenty-one and messing with a married man of 32. Disgusting. The boy clamped his mouth shut and looked away.

"How did you know all that?" Davon finally asked, shame flickering across his face for a split second before vanishing.

"We have cameras, you idiot. Did you really think that I wouldn't find out about whatever this is?" I questioned, waving my hands at the three of them before I felt the tears run down my face. "How could you do this to me, Davon? To us? I thought you loved me." My voice broke on the last word.

Davon scoffed.

I blinked. He didn't just scoff at me.

"I tolerated you, Melanie. How could I love you? I can barely look at you, to be honest. Have you taken a look at yourself lately?" He mocked, raising a mirror from the dresser to show me.

I stared at my reflection. Thick thighs, soft stomach, curves that filled out my scrubs. The same body he'd once worshipped, the same body he'd told me was perfect just last month. Now he wielded it like a weapon against me.

"You're a fucking pig. You've gotten so big that I can't even think of getting intimate with you. You let yourself go and then have the guts to ask me why I don't love you anymore. You spend so much damn time at the hospital instead of with your husband. When's the last time you cooked a bloody damn meal in this house? Oh, and should I talk about the fact that you can't have children? You can't even give me a legacy to carry on my name. You…"

"You know that isn't my fault. I have a condition," I finally shot back, my voice shaking. He'd told me it was okay. He'd said we'd adopt. He'd promised it didn't matter.

"Fuck your condition!" He screamed, making me flinch. "You are a worthless human being and much less a functional woman. I only married you for the money you had and maybe the sex, but you couldn't even keep that up after two years. I've wasted my life on you. I won't continue it. So if you know what's good for you, you'll get out and leave me the hell alone."

My lip quivered. My heart shattered. Then my blood boiled.

I squared my shoulders and shouted back at him. "Fine then. I'll see what your potential investors think when they watch you being bent over like a little bitch. Oh, and get ready because I am taking every fucking thing in the divorce. You'll go back to being the rat that I saved from the damn gutters."

"You wouldn't dare." Davon's voice dropped to something dangerous, his eyes darkening with something feral.

"Watch me."

I turned and walked away. I thought I would make it to my car. I thought I would go to a hotel room and cry my guts out before arranging for a divorce. But I didn't make it that far.

A hand grabbed my hair and yanked me backward. A scream tore from my mouth as pain shot up my neck. I barely let out another word when a fist collided with my face and my body dropped to the ground.

I looked up to see Davon with his foot raised before he kicked me, and pain exploded in my abdomen. I gasped for air. The beating continued.

“Come on. Join in.” He commanded the others.

I heard the woman's hesitant footsteps, then felt her kicks join in, weaker and uncertain. The young man stayed back at first, but Davon barked at him and soon his blows rained down too.

"You fucking bitch. Look at what you're making me do now," Davon screamed between strikes.

I couldn't fight back. I couldn't move. My body had gone beyond pain into numbness. Just when I thought I might pass out, it stopped. I could finally breathe.

"What should we do with her now?" The woman's voice broke, the reality of what she'd done seeming to hit her.

"We should get rid of her so that the police don't find out," Davon replied, his voice cold and steady, as if he were discussing taking out the trash.

My mouth went dry. No.

“Davon, no.” The man muttered, taking a step back but Davon held him in place.

“Do you want this getting back to you? And what of your father? Do you think he’ll approve of you being with another man?”

I heard nothing else. The boy was probably thinking over his options but I hoped he refused. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case. Hands wrapped around my arms and pulled me up to my feet. I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror as I was dragged past. A split lip, bloodied nose, and dark-ringed eyes were the least of my problems. I was sure I had broken ribs and internal bleeding, but it didn't matter when I saw where they were taking me.

The balcony.

"No, please." I begged, my voice coming out strangled and hoarse after someone had kicked me in the throat.

They ignored my pleas and heaved me closer to the railing, the wind whipping my hair around my face. The city lights blurred below, three stories of empty air waiting to swallow me whole.

"When you fall, remember that this was all your fault, Melanie," Davon's voice floated into my ears just as my feet left the ground and I was thrown over the railing.

Cold air ravaged my body as the last faces I saw were the ones of the people who murdered me. I blinked, a tear vanishing from my eyelids. The man I loved just killed me. How could I have been so blind? How could I…

My train of thought cut out just as my back collided with the ground and everything went dark.

I was now a dead woman.

A cough raked out of my throat before the pain I felt enveloped my senses. I blinked but darkness stared back at me. I raised my hand to touch something, but the cold feel of plastic reached out as well. I turned my head, feeling around, but it was all plastic. That's when a sense of dread crawled up my spine. No. I was in a fucking body bag.

I clawed at it, ignoring the pain in my broken body as my breath caught in my throat because of my claustrophobia.

"Help! Help me, please! I'm alive, damn it!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, unsure if anyone would even hear my cries.

My breathing sped up and my vision swam. I was going to die here. I was going to die. I was already giving up when I heard the bag rustle from the outside and the zipper open, allowing light to flood in. I rushed out, sitting up to leave the darkness behind, my breathing still ragged.

A hand rested on my back, rubbing small circles.

"Breathe. You're okay, just breathe, Melanie."

At the sound of my name, I turned around abruptly, coming face to face with a beautiful woman. Sharp cheekbones, intelligent eyes, short brown hair styled with precision. I blinked, not knowing who she was, so I pulled away once my breathing normalized. I got out of the body bag and took a step back, not sure if she was the one who put me in it, but all I knew was that I wanted to get away, despite the ache in my legs.

She put out her arms to calm me and spoke like I was a wounded animal.

"Calm down. You can't stand for long. I need to get you to a hospital or…" She took a step forward, but I took one back, my eyes scanning for a weapon to fend her off. She paused and frowned.

"My name is Enid Hargrave." She told me, but I just cocked my head and eyed her. I didn't know that name.

She rolled her eyes and scoffed, though there was something almost amused in her expression.

"The billionaire philanthropist. The main face on Forbes list for the past three years now. The woman whose husband left her for his twenty-three-year-old assistant after seventeen years of marriage." Her voice caught on the last part, something raw and bitter flashing across her face before she smoothed it away.

"I have no idea who you are," I interrupted with a small scowl. I didn’t know this woman and what she said might just be a ploy to get me to trust her. For God’s sake I woke up in a body bag in her house.

Enid sighed and ran her hand through her short brown hair. She gestured to a chair beside her.

"I won't hurt you. Just take a seat before you collapse." She offered, but I wasn't in a trusting mood.

"And why should I trust you?" I retorted.

"Wouldn't you like to know how you're still alive? How you've been dead for six hours and somehow your heart started beating again in my laboratory?"

My lips tightened. She laid the bait and I was interested, to say the least. With tentative steps, I moved forward and took a seat, my legs collapsing beneath me. I groaned, my adrenaline crashing down and the pain settling back in. Every breath felt like knives in my ribs.

"Stay still." Enid instructed before she rushed off and came back a minute later with a tray of drugs, syringes, and some instruments. She laid it down beside us and turned to me.

"Be calm, please. I just want to check your vitals a bit before knowing what to do. This is for…"

"I'm a nurse. I know what they are," I finished for her, my head splitting from a headache. "Fuck," I mumbled, placing a hand on my head.

"You need morphine. You've gone six hours without any pain medicine after your fall. Hell, I'm shocked that you're still alive. Your chart said you had at least three broken ribs, internal bleeding, a fractured wrist…"

"How am I still alive?" I asked, my eyes closing as I felt my body failing me. The pain was too much. Like last time, my world went black.

•••••

The beeping was what woke me up. I strained against the needle in my hand and opened my eyes to white ceilings. My headache had subsided and I felt numb. No doubt thanks to morphine.

"Ah, you're finally awake. To be honest, I didn't think you'd make it through the night. Remember me?" Enid said as she came into view, dark circles under her eyes suggesting she hadn't slept.

"Are you a doctor?" I asked, my voice hoarse.

"I have a doctorate in biomedical sciences and emergency medicine training, but I don't practice clinically. I teach for the fun of it," she gave me a clipped reply as she took a seat beside my bed. "Now, to how you're still alive. I guess I'll start from the beginning."

She leaned back, studying me carefully. "You were found dead at the foot of your apartment building at 11:47 PM. Your husband was the one who found you and called the paramedics. They pronounced you dead at the scene. No pulse, no respiration, pupils fixed and dilated. You'd been dead for approximately forty-five minutes when they loaded you into the ambulance."

My stomach turned. Forty-five minutes.

"They didn't perform an autopsy because it seemed like an obvious suicide. Your husband told them you'd been depressed, that you'd threatened to jump before because of you not being able to have children." Enid's eyes narrowed. "The report says you jumped. But I'm guessing that's not what happened, is it?”

I grimaced when the memories came flooding back. Davon, his lovers, the beating, being thrown over the railing like trash.

"I didn't jump. I was thrown over," I corrected her, my eyes roaming the white linen covering my bandaged legs.

"What?" Enid sat forward, her expression shifting from clinical interest to something harder.

"My husband murdered me," I said, finally looking at her.

For a moment, she said nothing. Then her jaw tightened. "That son of a bitch."

"We need to call the police then," she said, reaching for her phone, but I grabbed her arm, stopping her.

"No. No police, please."

She looked at me incredulously. "Don't you want your husband to pay for what he did?"

"I do, but on my terms," I replied, letting go of her arm. "I want him to pay for everything he's done to me, but I want him to suffer before he gets arrested for hurting me."

"That's going to be difficult considering your situation," Enid pointed out, settling back into her seat. "You're legally dead, Melanie. Do you understand what that means?"

I stared at her. "What?"

"You have a death certificate. Your body, well, you, were released to my research program. As far as the state of New York is concerned, Melanie Monroe died last night from suicide. Your bank accounts will be frozen and transferred to your next of kin. Your husband, I'm assuming?"

The full weight of it hit me. I didn't exist anymore. Everything I'd worked for, saved, built, it was all Davon's now. The bastard.

"He gets everything," I whispered.

"Unless you come forward. But if you do that, you lose the element of surprise. He'll know you're alive, and if he tried to kill you once…”

"He'll try again," I finished. My hands clenched into fists despite the pain. "I need time. I need to heal, and then I need to make him pay."

Enid watched me carefully, something calculating in her expression.

"That's not going to be easy. You'd need money, a new identity, resources. You'd need someone willing to help you stay dead."

I looked at her, hope and desperation warring in my chest.

"Will you help me?"

She was quiet for a long moment. When she finally spoke, her voice was soft but edged with steel.

"My ex-husband cleaned out our joint accounts before he left. Took eighteen million dollars that I'd earned and transferred it to the Caymans before I could stop him. By the time my lawyers caught up with him, he'd married his little girlfriend and the money was long gone." Her eyes met mine. "The law did nothing. He got away with it because he knew how to work the system. Men like that always do."

She stood up and walked to the window, her back to me. "I swore I'd never let another woman go through what I did. Never let another man get away with destroying someone just because he could." She turned back to me. "But I have conditions."

"Anything," I said.

"First, you let me study what happened to you. The Lazarus effect… the spontaneous return of circulation after resuscitation efforts have stopped, after the person is clinically dead,…is incredibly rare. You were dead for six hours before you woke up in that body bag. That shouldn't be possible. I need to understand why it happened."

I nodded.

"What else?"

"Second, we do this carefully. Methodically. You can't just walk back into his life and expect revenge to fall into your lap. You'll need to become someone else entirely. New name, new face if necessary, new identity. That takes time and money."

"How much time?"

"Years, probably. Can you be patient?"

I thought about Davon sleeping in our bed, spending my money, living his life while I was supposed to be rotting in the ground. Could I wait years?

But then I thought about how much sweeter it would be when I finally brought him to his knees. When he realized the woman he murdered had come back to destroy him.

"I can be patient," I said, a small smile tugging at my lips.

Enid studied me for another moment, then nodded.

"Then we have a deal. You become my research subject, and I'll give you the resources you need for your revenge."

She extended her hand. I took it, ignoring the pain in my fractured wrist.

"Thank you for this," I said.

"Don't thank me yet," Enid replied. "Try to get some rest. I'll get you some food, and then we'll start planning."

She walked out of the room, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

I had died. I had been thrown away like garbage. But I'd come back.

And now I had time, resources, and nothing left to lose.

Davon had no idea what was coming for him. Karma was a bitch, but he would find out that I was a bigger one.

Three years. That's how long it took to kill Melanie Monroe and give birth to the new me, Adrianna Sloane. Three years of plastic surgery, training, building an empire from Enid's investments and my own ruthless ambition. Three years of watching Davon from the shadows, learning his patterns, his weaknesses, his desires. And today, all that patience would finally pay off.

I tucked a strand of my now long hazel brown hair behind my ear and puckered my lips in the mirror. Green eyes adorned by diamond jewelry stared back at me as I straightened my black backless dinner gown. I gave myself one last look over in the car before taking a deep breath and frowning. Some years ago, I wouldn’t have been able to wear this custom dress because of my weight and now here I was a completely different person, a size small and all because of a man who didn’t want me.

I swallowed the anger and resentment that built up inside me and forced a smile. It was show time.

The car doors opened and I stepped out, taking purposeful strides into the building. Security didn’t even bother checking if I was on the list or not for this private function. They knew who I was and I didn’t tolerate nonsense. I moved past the lobby, whispers of admiration, praise and jealousy reaching my ears and I reached the room where things were going to change.

The man at the entrance gave me a subtle nod before he handed me a numbered pad and stepped aside for me to walk in. Like always I arrived fashionably late, the auction already in full swing by the time I walked in.

“Two million,”

“Four,”

“Five million for the Livingston estate,” voices shouted out at the coveted piece of real estate but that was not why I was here. My target had blonde hair and blue eyes.

I swiped a glass of champagne from a waiter just as I heard his voice ring out.

“Seven million for the estate.”

Murmurs filled the room, no one ready to contest his bid but I was not just anybody, not now anyway. I took a step forward, a coy smile on my face.

“Twenty million for the estate.”

The murmurs stopped and then eyes turned to me, mouths agape as they wondered who would make such a bid. My eyes stayed glued on him though. Davon. My ex-husband. His lip twitched and his jaw flexed in anger as he realised someone bid against him but when his eyes landed on me, his demeanour changed completely, eyes widening as if he just discovered a rare jewel. Good.

I raised my glass to him and sent him a wink before moving forward as the auctioneer spoke up.

“And who should we thank for this generous bid?”

I cocked my head.

“Adrianna Sloane.”

The auctioneer blinked and stepped forward, his hand outstretched.

“I’m so sorry madam. I didn’t know that you were THE Adrianna Sloane.”

“Of course you didn’t.” I replied, handing him my drink and smiling. “Give the details to my assistant, she’ll handle it.” I said before I walked out of the room, my illusion quickly pulling in my target. I had set the bait now all that remained was for him to take it.

I didn’t even make it to the door before a hand rested on mine and held me from moving. Bingo. I turned around, a brow raised as I eyed Davon Blake. He chuckled nervously and let go of me, running a hand through his hair, that sickly charm of his already pooling around him.

“Hi. I’m Davon. Davon Blake. COO of Blake Industries. Nice to meet you Adrianna.” He introduced himself. I licked my lips and gave him a stoic look.

“I’m sorry, do I know you?” I asked with a pointed look. If there was one thing I had learned while studying my murderous ex-husband it was that he was drawn to unattainable women and that was what I had become.

“Uh, you winked at me in there. Well, you did outdo my bid so…” He stuttered before I cut him off.

“If I outbid you then you don’t need to be speaking to me. Good bye.” I mused, spinning around to leave without missing a beat but Davon, the fool was a determined man. He sidestepped me and blocked my way, a playful smirk on his face.

“Come on. Give me a chance to get to know you. I can be very good company. What do you say? Dinner at The Opal tonight and then you can decide whether I’m worth your time or not.” He bargained, his brow raised matching mine. The Opal. A popular and expensive restaurant. He was pulling out all the stops huh.

I sighed and rolled my eyes, seemingly giving in.

“Fine but just dinner and mind you I don’t like my time being wasted.” I warned, my words making Davon even more bold.

“I promise you I won’t. Can I have your number then, or do I just pick you up from your home tonight? Wait, I don’t even know where you live.” He spouted his little trick, wanting to get either my number or home address but I was prepared for that.

“No need, I’ll see you there. 7:00pm sharp. Don’t be late Mr. Blake. Good bye.” I let him know before finally walking away from him, no doubt leaving him stunned.

The door was opened for me once more and I got into the car, the breath I was holding leaving my lungs as soon as the car zoomed off. I had played the role I had curated for three years well. A wealthy and no nonsense socialite, adept in the world of business and rumored to have only dated billionaires in her lifetime. I had made myself the perfect catch and he had fallen for it.

I took out my phone and texted the one person I trusted in this world, Enid.

I’ve got him. Dinner tonight at the Opal.

She replied almost instantly.

Great. I’ve got the perfect dress for you.

With that sorted out, I dropped my phone and looked out the window, lost in thought.

To the world I was Adrianna Sloane but in reality I was still Melanie Monroe. The murdered wife, back from the dead to haunt her husband. Oh, and haunt him I will. Right into the grave with me.

•••••

Hours flew by and true to my word, I stood in the lobby at The Opay while the waitress looked up my name.

“Yes, Ms. Adrianna Sloane on a table for two under the name Davon Blake. Right this way, miss.” She insisted as she stepped away from her station and showed me around the room.

Eyes roamed my body as the mostly red sheer Jovani dress hung to my curves and swayed as I moved. With Enid’s help, I looked like a runway model. I looked hot. And soon Davon would see that too.

Like I expected, as I reached the table, already laid with complementary glasses of champagne, Davon stood up and approached, his mouth slack as his eyes could barely contain the hunger I could see brewing in him. He scoffed lightly.

“Adrianna you look stunning. My God, where have you been all my life.” He complimented as he pulled a seat for me. I took it, crossing my legs to expose my thigh to his view.

Davon liked his lips and took his seat opposite me, waving a waiter over as soon as he did.

“A bottle of your most expensive wine please and…”

“Not wine. Bourbon for me. And a filet mignon, medium rare with a side of garlic and saffron vinaigrette. He’ll have the same.” I ordered for Davon and I, not wasting a breath.

The waiter paused before finding the words to say, unsure of what to do here. I didn’t blame her. I was acting like a snob.

“We don’t do those kinds of combinations here. If I can recommend some…”

“I thought your establishment catered to all needs, yes?” I countered, pursing my lips.

“Yes, we do but…”

“Then cater, Alice.” I muttered, eyeing her name tag before looking back up to her eyes. “Or else I’ll have a talk with your manager and you wouldn’t want that now would you?”

Mentally, I frowned as I watched the girl squirm under my gaze before conceding. God, I would leave a huge tip and a note for her by the end of this dinner to apologize.

“Of course I miss.” Alice whispered before stalking away, leaving Davon and I alone once more.

“Wow, I’ve never seen a woman take so much charge before. It’s somewhat refreshing.” Davon mused, eyes twinkling with curiosity.

“Well you better get used to it if I choose to keep you around, Mr. Blake. I like my things a certain kind of way.”

My right leg went up, lightly brushing his as I took my glass in my hands. Davon seemed to light up before he followed my lead with a grin and raised his glass for a toast.

“Well, to new beginnings and maybe something more.”

I met him halfway, our glasses clicking together and smiled.

“To something more.”

I took a sip of my drink, my eyes never leaving the man I had once promised my entire world to. I dropped the glass and licked my lips so he could see.

“So, Mr. Blake,...”

“Please, call me Davon.” He interrupted but I let it go. I needed him to think that I was now somewhat comfortable with him. I placed my hands on the table and leaned in, the gaze of him making me feel sickened but keeping it under control.

“Fine then, Davon, tell me more about yourself. I want to know all the dirty secrets you have.” I purred just like how Enid had taught me, eliciting a smile from him.

Davon swirled his drink around, his eyes taking in the show of cleavage I was putting on display for the briefest second before actually focusing on my face.

“Well, if you insist.” He mused, raising his glass to me again. I chuckled, fighting the urge to curse him out. Regardless of how much my blood boiled sitting next to him there was one thing I could not deny. Davon was smitten.

The man was a goner.