My best friend was a self-styled "love tester."

He said he was afraid I'd get hurt by terrible women, so every time I started dating someone new, he'd disguise himself as her ideal type and pursue her relentlessly until he'd seduced her into bed.

Every single time, he'd send me the photos afterward:

"You should be thanking me, brother! If I hadn't been looking out for you, another gold-digger would've played you for a fool! Aren't you glad you have me?"

It broke me. I cut him out of my life completely and moved to a different city.

That was where I met the love of my life: Sylvia Fox.

On the day of our wedding, I spotted him again, disguised as a makeup artist.

"Brother! Let me run one last test before you tie the knot!"

He drugged me unconscious and climbed into Sylvia's bed.

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

Later, while Sylvia was pregnant, she insisted I drive out in the middle of the night to get her a late-night snack. The brakes failed halfway there, and the crash shattered my spine on impact.

Sylvia refused to sign the consent form to save me.

"Morris just wanted to give himself to me before the wedding, to fulfill a wish he'd been carrying for years!"

"But you threw him in prison. He killed himself because of you, and now I'm left alone with our child, with nothing! You owe him your life!"

That was when I finally understood. The woman I thought was the love of my life had fallen for my so-called brother long ago.

Even the baby she was carrying wasn't mine.

I died an unjust death. She threw my ashes into a gutter.

Then I opened my eyes again.

I was back on the day Morris Harding had shown up at my wedding disguised as a makeup artist.

……

The moment my eyes opened, I saw that familiar face staring back at me.

Just like before, he was pointing at me and howling with laughter. Everyone around us had their phones out, cameras shoved in my face, snapping photos.

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

I looked calmly into the mirror.

Sure enough, stamped across my face in blue ink, just like last time, were the words "GRADE-A CERTIFIED PORK."

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

The door swung open, and Sylvia Fox walked in wearing her wedding dress, a smile playing at the corners of her eyes.

Morris Harding sauntered over to her with a grin.

"Miss Fox, I prepared a little pre-wedding prank for you two. What do you think? Pretty funny, right?"

His foot slipped. He let out a small gasp, and as if by accident, his arms wrapped tightly around Sylvia's slender waist.

His face flushed red as he looked at her.

"Sorry about that."

It was his favorite little seduction trick. I'd seen him pull it a thousand times.

In my previous life, the moment I opened my eyes and saw Morris standing there like a nightmare made flesh, the moment I realized he was about to destroy the wedding I'd waited so long for, watching him flirt and use the same tired moves to seduce my wife—

The rage and despair hit me like a dam bursting.

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

"Get out! You're trying to steal the woman I love again, aren't you? I won't let you!"

Sylvia had called for the groomsmen to pin me down. Morris had retreated to a corner, trembling, eyes wide and pitiful.

"I didn't do anything. Mr. Sawyer, you've got it all wrong. It was just a pre-wedding prank. That's all it was."

No matter how I tried to explain, no matter how many times I told them he was a so-called love tester who had seduced every girlfriend I'd ever had and destroyed every relationship I'd ever been in—

Morris just stood there shaking, tears streaming down his face.

"I swear I 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 that's what you want. Please, just stop making things up about me..."

The whispers rippled through the room:

"A love tester? Someone's been reading too many novels. People like that don't exist."

"Guy's got a cuckold complex. Thinks everyone's out to steal his wife. Pathetic..."

My protests grew weaker and weaker, drowned out by the mocking laughter of the crowd and the weary look in Sylvia's eyes.

She sighed, resigned, and walked over to wrap me in a gentle embrace.

"It's okay. If you don't like him, we'll fire him. How about that?"

"But you should've just told me directly instead of jumping to conclusions and spreading rumors about the poor guy..."

I'd thought she was simply deceived by Morris's lies and his act, just like all the other guests.

It wasn't until the moment I died that I learned the truth.

Her heart had already turned toward Morris.

...

This time, I watched with no expression as Morris threw his arms around Sylvia.

I didn't miss the flicker of emotion that darted through her eyes.

But a split second later, she shot a quick glance my way.

She shoved him off and said coldly, "That joke isn't funny. Apologize to my husband right now, then fix his makeup and cover that writing up."

"No need."

My voice was calm.

I lowered my head and pulled up the hospital's booking page to schedule a laser removal appointment.

Sylvia let out a breath of relief and patted Morris's hand gently.

"Hurry up and apologize to my husband. If he weren't so kind-hearted and easy-going, he wouldn't be letting this slide..."

I cut her off.

"Sylvia. Forget the makeup. The wedding is off."

Sylvia stared at me in disbelief. After a long pause, she let out a short laugh.

"That's not funny."

"It's not a joke."

I pulled off the suit she'd gone through God knew how many connections to have flown in from overseas. Tossed it aside like a piece of garbage.

"The wedding is canceled. We're done."

I put on my jacket without hesitation and headed for the door.

"Simon!"

Only then did Sylvia realize I was serious.

She grabbed my wrist, panic written all over her face.

"You're calling off the wedding over one stupid joke from a stylist?"

She looked up at me, those wide, beautiful eyes brimming with hurt and confusion.

"Simon, stop this!"

"Do you have any idea how much we put into this wedding? Our friends and family are all here. You can't just—"

I shook her hand off. I ignored the whispers and pointed fingers around us, and looked at her with nothing but cold contempt.

"Sylvia, you know exactly why I'm not going through with this."

"I'm giving you a chance. A chance to be with the person you actually love. Isn't that what you want?"

I expected to see panic flash across her face.

Instead, she looked perfectly composed, her expression full of wounded bewilderment.

"Simon, what are you even talking about? Everyone knows the person I love most is you!"

She pointed at Morris.

"Is this because of him?"

Her voice was helpless.

"I didn't know he was going to pull that stunt."

"Besides, didn't I already say I'd make him apologize? If that's still not enough for you, I'll fire him on the spot!"

Morris's eyes instantly filled with tears. He turned and bolted from the room.

Sylvia didn't spare him a single glance. Her dark eyes held mine, steady and deep.

"There. Are we good now?"

I looked at her, my gaze flat. I didn't say yes. I didn't say no.

The Fox parents walked in, their voices laced with reproach.

"She's already apologized to you. Playing hard to get at this point is just childish."

"Simon, do you have any idea how good Sylvia has been to you? Have you forgotten who arranged your mother's surgery? Who set up her follow-up treatment? A man shouldn't bite the hand that feeds him."

A sharp pain tore through my chest.

My mother's cerebral hemorrhage was caused by Morris.

He'd done it on purpose. At my wedding to my ex, Morris had projected their bedroom photos for everyone to see, then eloped with my fiancée right in front of the guests, leaving me as the laughingstock of the entire reception.

My mother collapsed from the shock.

To get her the treatment she needed, I transferred her from hospital to hospital until we ended up in Havenport, where I met Sylvia, a neurosurgery specialist. Over the course of my mother's treatment, Sylvia and I gradually fell in love.

I understood the threat buried in Betty's words. The Fox family had a reputation to uphold. If I ruined this wedding and embarrassed them today, my mother would be thrown out of their hospital.

"Mom!"

Sylvia cut Betty off, her tone measured but firm.

"Simon is my husband, and his mother is my mother-in-law. Taking care of her is my responsibility."

She turned to me, her voice soft and pleading.

"Honey, at the very least, for the sake of everything I've done for your mother, can we please not make a scene at our wedding?"

I dug my nails into my palms and let a wounded expression surface.

"Sylvia, do you really not know that stylist? Because he just whispered to me that you deliberately had him stamp my face to humiliate me on your behalf. That's why I got upset."

The moment the words left my mouth, the guests who had been looking at me with disapproval shifted to expressions of sympathy.

A muscle in Sylvia's cheek twitched. Then she smoothed it over with a reassuring smile.

"He was talking nonsense. He's just jealous that you married such a wonderful wife."

When I said nothing, she relented with a sigh.

"I'll file a complaint against him right now, okay?"

Only then did I let myself smile.

"Then swear on it."

"If you really do have something going on with him, if you've betrayed me, then we're getting a divorce."

Sylvia cooed and soothed me, raising her hand to swear.

The guests laughed warmly.

"You're overthinking it. Sylvia only has eyes for you."

Outside the door, Morris's face flashed past, twisted with venom at his failed scheme.

I didn't spare him a glance.

The wedding ended.

I was heading back to my room to change out of my suit when someone pressed a cloth over my nose and mouth.

I held my breath, closed my eyes, and played along.

Just like last time.

Morris and Sylvia stumbled down the hallway tangled in each other, shoving open the door to the room next door. They fell onto the bed, unable to hold back the sounds that followed.

I snapped my eyes open, slipped downstairs, and found the Fox parents chatting with guests.

This time, I didn't do what I'd done in my previous life. I didn't tell them Morris had drugged me and tried to climb into my bed.

Instead, I put on a worried expression.

"Mom, Dad, I think Sylvia had too much to drink. She doesn't look well."

Fergus and Betty, ever doting on their daughter, rallied immediately. Curious relatives trailed behind them, and the whole group followed me upstairs in a procession.

The moment we reached the door of the guest room, the muffled sounds from inside were unmistakable.

Every face in the crowd went rigid.

The Fox parents scrambled to cover it up, but I pushed the door wide open.

"Sylvia, are you feeling okay?"

The door swung back. Two entangled figures on the bed shot apart, frantically clawing at the sheets.

Through the crowd, Morris flashed me a triumphant grin.

In an instant, the hallway erupted.

"Oh my God, that man. Isn't that the stylist from this morning?"

"So Simon was telling the truth. Jesus..."

Fergus's face turned beet red. He bellowed in humiliation.

"Sylvia! Look at what you've done!"

Betty charged into the room and dragged Morris off the bed.

"This is all your fault! You must have drugged my daughter!"

She whipped around to Sylvia. "That's what happened, isn't it, sweetheart? We're calling the police! We'll have this animal thrown in prison!"

The moment those words left her mouth, the smugness drained from Morris's face.