The night my in-laws were rushed to the hospital after a car accident, I hurried over to handle the situation.

At the payment counter, I swiped my card—only to find that the joint account I shared with my husband had a mere two dollars left.

I called my husband, Zarrick Thompson, over and over again.

But he never picked up.

It wasn't until later that I learned the truth—he had taken our money to celebrate his first love's birthday.

Desperate, I borrowed seventy thousand from a friend to save my in-laws. But after they recovered, they flat-out denied everything.

My husband, meanwhile, made no attempt to hide his relationship with her. He wanted me gone.

To force me into a divorce, he went as far as setting me up—staging an affair, taking photos of me being humiliated. Then he used them to threaten me.

Either I walked away with nothing, shouldering all our debts, or he would ruin me completely.

I worked endlessly, day and night, to pay it all off. Until, one winter, I collapsed in a frozen alley and never got up again.

But when I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of the accident.

When I got the news about my in-laws' car accident, I took my time—dragging my feet for a full two hours before heading to the hospital.

By the time I arrived, they were hanging by a thread.

Lying there, barely breathing, they looked nothing like the vicious, sharp-tongued people I remembered from my past life. A twisted sense of satisfaction welled up inside me when I saw them like this.

At the payment counter, I handed over my bank card. When the screen flashed "insufficient funds," I wasn't surprised.

After all, Zarrick had been quietly siphoning off our shared assets for a while now.

But in front of everyone else, I played my part perfectly—faking frantic desperation.

At the nurses' station, I kept dialing his number over and over. No answer.

Only when I borrowed the hospital's phone did he finally pick up, sounding irritated the moment he realized it was me.

"Zarrick, Dad and Mom were in an accident. We need money—"

"OMG, can you stop? Why the hell should I pay for your parents' accident?"

His tone was full of disgust.

I let out a shaky breath, pretending not to be affected. "Zarrick, this is an emergency. Just transfer the money first, and we'll sort out everything else when you get back, okay?"

A woman's voice chimed in from the other end. "Amber, why do you always ask Zarrick for money whenever something happens? That's not right. These days, even in marriage, a woman should still be financially independent."

Zarrick clearly took her words to heart. "All you ever think about is money. Can't you learn from Kelly? She never acts so materialistic."

I made sure to look devastated, putting on the perfect performance in front of the hospital staff.

"Zarrick, Dad and Mom are dying. At least bring my share of our savings over for this, please?"

He scoffed, then hung up on me.

I let out a choked sob, tears spilling down as I begged the doctors for a little more time to gather the funds.

In my past life, on this very day, Zarrick had emptied our entire savings—just to throw Kelly Isle a lavish birthday party.

While they were basking in the glow of celebration, I was running around, borrowing money from everyone and anyone to save his parents. I even mortgaged my property and pawned the gold jewelry from our wedding.

And for what?

Not only was Zarrick ungrateful, but he also accused me of acting on my own. And with just a few words from Kelly, he slapped me across the face.

Ever since Kelly reentered his life, our fights never stopped. In the end, she took my place completely.

She had a hand in my death, too.

Zarrick must have conveniently forgotten that his current success—his status, his income—was all thanks to my parents.

Back then, blinded by love, I had fought like a cornered animal, harming myself as much as I harmed him.

But this time? I was going to settle every score.

I arrived at Kelly's birthday party with a group of people in tow.

Under the warm glow of the chandeliers, Zarrick and Kelly were drinking from the same glass, the crowd cheering them on.

Their affection for each other was sickening, a disgusting display of intimacy. If there had been a bed nearby, I was sure they would have tumbled onto it right then and there.

The memory of my past life—their betrayal, my suffering—flooded back like a tidal wave.

I wanted to tear them apart, strip them of their perfect, polished facade.

I held up my phone and started a live stream, tagging Kelly on the spot.

"Zarrick, Dad and Mom are in the hospital. They're barely hanging on, waiting for you to bring money to save them. But you say you have no money—yet somehow, you have enough to throw a birthday party for this woman? What kind of logic is that?"

Zarrick's little celebration came to a screeching halt. Furious, he stormed over and slapped me across the face.

"It's my money. I'll spend it however I damn well please!"

I let out a sharp laugh. He had also used my money for this party. Since that was the case, I could smash it however I damn well pleased.

"Smash everything. All of it."

Zarrick panicked, grabbing my arm. "Go home. Stop making a scene!"

I scoffed, shaking him off. He thought I was making a scene? If so, he was really underestimating me.

I hadn't been raised to be meek. My parents had spoiled me from birth, and my temper was never mild to begin with. Over the years, I had swallowed my pride and endured, all for Zarrick's sake. But instead of appreciating it, he had mistaken my patience for weakness—pushing further, taking more.

"Zarrick, you spent my money on all this, didn't you? So why can't I destroy what I paid for?"

Kelly looked me up and down, sizing me up. When she realized I was just a washed-out housewife, she smirked.

"Amber, you can't put it that way. You're his wife, after all. Besides, Zarrick is the general manager of Northington Textiles. The way you're talking, it sounds like he's just living off a woman. That's not very appropriate, is it?"

The moment she said living off a woman, Zarrick's face twisted. He had always been sensitive about being a live-in son-in-law. Words like that were absolute taboo.

"Are you done making a scene?" he growled.

"Not even close."

I raised my voice. It wasn't about who was louder, but damn, it felt good to shout.

"Keep smashing. The one who smashes the most gets a bonus."

The birthday party turned into chaos. Kelly, who was acting all arrogant a minute ago, was reduced to clinging to Zarrick, playing the helpless victim.

"Zarrick, this whole party was your hard work. I don't mind, but it pains me to see your effort and money go to waste like this."

Her soft, pitiful voice dripped with faux concern. In my past life, I had been too straightforward—too foolish—to see through her act. Now? I was going to beat her at her own game.

I lifted my phone again and turned the camera toward myself.

"Let's ask the internet. Chat, tell me—how does such a strong, independent woman like Kelly justify spending another woman's husband's money? And let's not forget, Kelly is a top student and a famous influencer. Is she really willing to be the other woman?"

At first, only a few people were watching. But as I continued, as things escalated, the numbers grew. People love a good spectacle. The comment section exploded.

[The wife's being too polite. Just grab that bitch by the hair and rip that dress off. Let's go!]

[That bitch is just another classic homewrecker. Kudos to the wife for sticking it up against her.]

[Exactly. Genius move.]

[Nah, she should give that bitch a tight slap. No patience for this nonsense.]

[Girl fight! Girl fight!]

[Girl fight! Let's goooo!]

Kelly was seething inside, but in front of the camera, she kept her carefully curated smile.

"Zarrick, it's all my fault," she said. "Please, take your wife home and clear up this misunderstanding."

My eyes locked onto her hands—clutching Zarrick's arm like she belonged there. The moment she noticed my gaze, she reluctantly let go.

Zarrick's face was dark with fury. He lunged for my phone.

Too bad. I dodged swiftly.

"What the hell do you want, you crazy woman?!" Zarrick yelled?

I pointed at Kelly, my voice sharp with frustration. "Isn't it obvious? Beat up a cheating bastard and his mistress. What else?"

I hadn't planned on getting physical, but the comment section was relentless, flooding the chat with suggestions. If throwing punches would bring me more satisfaction, then why hold back?

So, when Zarrick lunged at me again, trying to snatch my phone, I hurled it straight at his head. Then, without hesitation, I grabbed Kelly's hair and let loose.

I went through the full checklist of a classic catfight—yanking her hair, slapping her face, kicking her in the stomach. By the time Zarrick managed to pull me off her, she was a complete mess.

Her birthday banquet lay in ruins. Whatever dignity she had left had been stomped into the ground. She sobbed even louder, her face streaked with tears.

"Zarrick and I are just former classmates," she whimpered. "He was only sponsoring today's party. You know how things work in the influencer world. We need engagement, and Zarrick just wanted to promote your company. There's nothing going on between us. Only dirty-minded people see filth everywhere."

I rolled up my sleeves, ready to go another round. Even now, she had the audacity to play the innocent, fragile damsel. If she wanted to act weak, that was her problem.

Then my phone rang.

"Hello, this is the hospital. The patients are in critical condition. If the payment isn't made immediately, we may not be able to continue treatment."

I put the call on speaker. Zarrick heard every word.

"Did you hear that? The hospital needs money. Now."

Disgusted, he flung my phone back at me. He hated me more than anything at this moment. As if he'd ever give me a cent.

"If your parents die, it's just bad luck. Not my problem."

Right then, Kelly conveniently collapsed into his arms. Panicked, he scooped her up, ready to rush her to the hospital.

As she nestled against him, she turned her head to look at me. A slow, knowing smile crept across her lips. Then she mouthed the words: You've lost.

I smiled back, just as sweetly, and mouthed the words: We'll see.

Since Kelly pretended to faint, why shouldn't I do the same? Let's see how things played out when we both woke up.

…

At the same hospital, when I came to, a doctor stood by my bedside, looking apologetic.

"I'm sorry. The resuscitation failed. There was no signed authorization from the family. They've passed away. My condolences."

The words sank in like lead. My chest tightened, and I let out a raw, guttural sob.

I called Zarrick. He rejected the call twice. Then he blocked me altogether.

The doctors and nurses watched me with pity, their eyes filled with silent sympathy.

I forced myself to pull it together. I picked up my phone again.

"I'd like to report a hit-and-run."

The police worked fast. By the next day, they had identified the driver: Chad Isle, Kelly's brother.

In my previous life, I had been too consumed with taking care of Zarrick's parents and scrambling to pay off debts. It wasn't until right before my death that I finally learned the truth—that Chad was also the man Zarrick later found to rape me.

If I remembered correctly, after the accident, my in-laws had graciously chosen not to press charges.

Zarrick had even signed the waiver of prosecution.

"We're fine, aren't we? Why ruin a young man's future over this? You always take things too seriously. Just because he's Kelly's brother doesn't mean you have to be spiteful," my in-laws had said.

Too bad.

This time, they were dead.

Let's see if they'd still be so magnanimous now.