I knew my husband, Josh Perkins, had faked his death and taken on his younger twin brother's identity—but I never said a word. Instead, I went straight to the commander of the military district and filed an official report of my husband's death, requesting his name be permanently removed from the service rolls.

In my last life, my brother-in-law died in an accident. Josh gave up his rank as regimental commander, abandoned his own name, and stepped into his brother's shoes—all to spare his fragile sister-in-law from becoming a widow.

Back then, I recognized him immediately. I confronted him and demanded to know why he was pretending to be a dead man. But Josh just looked through me, cold as a winter morning.

"Riley, I know you're grieving Josh. But I'm not him. Don't mistake me for my brother."

He shielded that delicate sister-in-law of his behind him, then shoved me into the icy river and warned me not to harbor delusions.

Later, our five-year-old daughter cried, asking why her daddy didn't want her anymore. For that, she was dragged to the cowshed for "reflection"—left there, starving, for three days and nights.

My mother-in-law called me a curse, a jinx who'd killed her son, and threw my daughter and me out with nothing but the clothes on our backs.

Josh made sure everyone knew I'd "gone mad"—that I was lusting after my brother-in-law before my husband was even cold in the ground. The whole town turned their backs on us.

That last winter, I wandered the streets with my girl, dazed and numb, until the cold finally took us both.

But when I opened my eyes again, I was back. Back to the very day Josh buried his old life and stole his brother's.

"Riley, please accept my condolences. I never imagined Josh would suffer such a sudden accident…"

Josh's eyes were red, his expression filled with grief as he looked at me.

When they carried in my brother-in-law's body, I immediately burst into tears, playing along with the moment and calling him my husband.

Caleb's face was pale and stiff—he was unmistakably, irrevocably dead.

He and Josh looked identical. No one suspected Josh had stolen Caleb's identity.

After crying for a while, I wiped my eyes and said, "We can't leave the body out for long. We should hurry and have it cremated. May his soul rest in peace."

Josh agreed instantly—so eager that it was as if he couldn't wait to destroy the evidence.

As he moved the body, I saw the narrow, thin scar between his thumb and forefinger.

In my previous life, that very scar confirmed that the one still breathing was Josh.

This time, I pretended I hadn't seen a thing.

In that life, both Josh and Caleb were on disaster relief duty when Caleb suffered a fatal blow to the back of the head and died on the spot.

To prevent Catherine from becoming a widow, Josh abandoned his own rank as regimental commander and impersonated his brother.

Outsiders couldn't see through his carefully crafted imitation and were easily fooled.

But I, the woman who lived with him day and night, recognized him at a glance.

I demanded to know why he was pretending to be Caleb. I demanded to know why he was abandoning his wife and daughter.

Josh remained cold and indifferent. He denied everything and violently shook me off.

"Riley, I know you're grieving Josh. But I'm not him. Don't mistake me for my brother."

I stood there in disbelief, questioning him again and again, until he shoved me into the freezing river in the dead of winter.

He stood on the bank with Catherine protected behind him, watching me struggle in the icy water with a chilling detachment.

"Even if you're my sister-in-law, I won't let you hurt my wife!"

Catherine peeked out from behind him and called me a shameless vixen, accusing me of stealing her man the moment my husband died.

I burned with fever for three days and nights, and only my five-year-old daughter stayed by my side.

Crying, she asked Josh why he refused to acknowledge her as his child.

He claimed she was merely repeating nonsense I'd fed her—and locked her in the cowshed to "reflect."

While I clawed my way back from death after three days of illness, my little girl starved for three days and nights.

My mother-in-law called me a cursed jinx who had doomed her son, then dragged my daughter and me out of the house without a single coat, money, or food.

On a snowy, stormy night, I pounded on the door, begging Josh to save our daughter.

But all I heard was his cold voice. "Riley, you must be insane to mistake me for my brother. If you can't tell reality from delusion, stay away from me."

The townspeople believed him. They said I was born unlucky, that I was deranged—so lost in grief that I mistook my brother-in-law for my husband.

My daughter and I wandered the bitter winter streets with nowhere to go. Cold, starving, and abandoned, we froze to death in each other's arms.

Whenever I recalled it, rage flared so hot I could have dragged that entire family into the grave with me.

Watching Josh rush to have Caleb's body cremated, I felt nothing but icy contempt.

I sneered inwardly, 'If you want to spend your life with Catherine, then I'll grant your wish. From today onward, you can live as Caleb forever.'

Josh worked quickly. Before long, he had cremated Caleb's body and returned with a small urn of ashes.

Back at the house, the funeral was set up. Neighbors, having heard the news, filtered in to help—their eyes lingering on the memorial photo and that little ceramic pot, their sighs heavy with pity.

I didn't have to act much. Haunted by the memories of my last life, my face was naturally pale, my eyes hollow. I looked every bit the shattered widow.

Josh, meanwhile, held Catherine in his arms as he said to me, "Catherine just found out she's pregnant. Staying here might harm her health. She doesn't need to keep vigil."

He settled her gently into a seat, all tenderness and care.

I ignored their display of affection, but Catherine turned to me and spoke anyway.

"Riley, now that you're… alone… if you need a man's help around here, you can't expect Josh to do it for free, right?"

Her eyes glittered with naked greed.

Josh chimed in, "Riley, you still have those gold pieces from your mother, don't you? The bracelets and earrings. You should give them to Catherine. You're a widow with a child now—when would you ever wear fancy jewelry?"

I lifted my head sharply, staring at him with icy disbelief.

Those were my mother's life savings—the only keepsakes she left me before she passed.

How dare he?

Yet Josh showed not a trace of guilt. He pressed his demands as if they were perfectly reasonable.

"You don't wear jewelry while doing housework and farm chores anyway. Giving them to Catherine puts them to good use. And Josh mentioned some money he left in the house for me to handle. You should hand that over, too."

I let a silence hang, then covered my face with my hands. My shoulders shook. "There… there is no money," I sobbed, the picture of broken despair. "Josh spent it all. Even my mom's jewelry and money is gone. There's nothing left."

"That's impossible!" Josh snapped, losing his composure. "He told me there was some money!"

I lowered my hands, my voice trembling but clear. "Then he lied to you. Probably too ashamed to admit he had nothing."

I looked around at the gathered neighbors, pouring every ounce of helplessness into my words. "Caleb, your brother is gone. You're the only man left in the family. Instead of helping us, you're trying to squeeze money from his widow? Are you trying to drive my daughter and me to our graves?"

Of course, none of it was true, but Josh had no way to refute it.

The villagers around us looked at me with sympathy and urged him to help his widowed sister-in-law.

His expression darkened. "My brother wasn't a liar."

A cold laugh escaped me. I stood up, walked to the corner, and dragged out a worn duffel bag—all of Josh's belongings.

"This is all the worthless things he left," I announced. "Let me burn it for you, so you can stop dreaming about money that never existed."

One by one, I tossed in his military manuals, letters, and then his clothes into the fire. The flames caught and climbed.

Josh instinctively stepped forward to stop me, but hesitated—his face turning pitch-black—as he forced himself to stay still.

Finally, I picked up the gifts he'd given me over the years and tossed them into the heart of the fire.

"Riley!" he burst out, a strangled sound. "Those were from Josh! How could you?"

My voice trembled. "He's gone. What use are objects from a dead man? And you—hounding me for money the very day he's buried! Where would he have gotten that kind of money? Tell me!"

I spoke with such grief and tears that even the neighbors were moved.

Josh's face turned ashen, but he could do nothing except watch as I burned everything.

Later, in the back room, my little girl, Natalie, tugged on my sleeve. Her wide, confused eyes looked up at me. "Mama… that's Daddy. Why is everyone saying he's Uncle Caleb?"

A sharp ache stabbed through my heart. Even my daughter recognized that was Josh—yet he refused to acknowledge it, hardening his heart even toward his own child.

I pulled her into my arms, holding back my tears. "Sweetheart, listen to Mama. That man is not your daddy. Your daddy… he's gone to heaven."

I didn't waste another day. With the death certificate in hand, I went straight back to the military district headquarters. I reported my husband's passing to the commander and requested that Josh's military status be revoked.

The commander sighed.

"We received the notification about Captain Perkins," he said, his voice respectful. "The nation thanks him for his service. Please, if there's anything you or your daughter need..."

"Sir," I said, cutting to the point before my courage could falter. "I need a job. Here. Anything at all—cleaning, clerical, mess hall work. I just need to support my daughter."

He studied me, surprised. "The work is hard, Mrs. Perkins. And it would mean relocating to base housing. A fresh start, but far from everything you know."

That was exactly what I wanted. I nodded firmly.

The paperwork was swift. Josh Perkins was officially, permanently listed as deceased. A modest pension and death benefit were processed for his next of kin—me.

When I returned home, my mother-in-law was sitting in the courtyard. As soon as she saw me, her voice turned shrill and cutting.

"Look what the cat dragged back," she sneered. "My son just died, and you're gallivantin' around. A curse, that's what you are. A husband-killing curse."

My breath caught. Natalie was hunched on the dirt by the corn pile, her tiny hands raw and blistered as she shucked ears twice the size of her arms.

A hot, pure rage boiled up in me. I swept her into my arms. "She's five years old! Look at her hands!"

"Useless!" my mother-in-law spat, hands on her hips. "Couldn't even give my boy a son. Dead weight needs to earn its keep. You think this is a charity?"

A cold clarity washed over me. "Since my husband is dead," I said, my voice surprisingly steady, "we have no place here. We'll leave. We won't be a burden to the Perkins family anymore."

She moved with shocking speed, blocking the path. "Leave? And who's gonna tend to Catherine when my grandson comes? You think you can just walk away after all the food you've eaten over the years?"

Catherine appeared in the doorway, one hand resting on the slight swell of her belly, a smug smile playing on her lips. "She's right, Riley. You failed where I succeeded. I'm carrying the future of this family. The least you can do is make yourself useful."

Josh stepped up beside her, his arm a protective bar around her shoulders. His eyes on me were cold, commanding. "Mom's not as strong as she used to be, and Catherine needs rest. Stop this foolishness and do your duty, Riley."

I almost laughed. Duty? Where was his duty when I was alone in a hospital bed, bringing his daughter into the world? Where was their concern when my water broke, and I had to carry myself to the hospital alone, with not a single soul from this family by my side?

And now they expected me to work myself to the bone serving them?

Jaw clenched, I carried Natalie back into the room and carefully applied ointment to her hands.

As I stepped out, I overheard Josh and Catherine speaking.

"Josh," she whined, "look at Riley's attitude. If you hadn't taken Caleb's place to stay with me, who knows what she would've done to me."

His voice was soft and gentle. "Don't worry, Catherine. For you and our child, I'll protect you for the rest of my life. Mom supports you too. Why else would she agree to me replacing Josh?"

My fingernails dug into my palm, and I nearly bit my lip raw.

So the child she carried was Josh's. She and my mother-in-law had known about the impersonation from the beginning.

They had been entangled far earlier than I ever imagined. I was the only fool kept in the dark, deceived all the way to my death in my past life.

Looking at my sleeping daughter, I forced myself to breathe. For her sake, we would leave soon.

Sure enough, two days later, the commander sent word: a job had been arranged for me, and I could start anytime.

I immediately packed our things.

But the moment I stepped out the door, I came face-to-face with Josh's dark, stormy expression.

His eyes dropped to the train tickets in my hand, and his voice turned icy.

"Riley, just where in the hell do you think you're going?"