Sarah Winfield took a cab back to the home she'd shared with Ralph Sanchez. She walked into the bedroom and, numb, began gathering her things. The season's newest dresses, the priciest necklaces from the auction house, the most fully loaded designer bags from the boutiques. Ralph had given her a great deal.

But once she peeled away that mask wrapped in counterfeit affection, Sarah saw it clearly. The dresses were the lake-blue Jocelyn Winfield favored. The necklaces were the rubies Jocelyn liked. Even the bags were styles Jocelyn preferred.

Back then, drowning in that so-called love, she'd overlooked the contempt and the mockery in Jocelyn's eyes every single time the girl looked at her.

Sarah gave a bitter little laugh. Married this long, and Ralph probably still had no idea what she actually liked.

She crouched on the floor and went through everything piece by piece, until she came to an ice-jade pendant. She turned it over. Engraved on the back, tiny, was the letter "J." It had been custom-made. Given to the wrong woman.

None of it mattered anymore. She didn't cry. She just took photos, then packed away a few old belongings from before.

One simple suitcase, light as though she herself had never existed.

Once she'd packed part of her things, Sarah called Byron Simmons, a divorce lawyer with a considerable reputation in the field.

"Lawyer Simmons, draft me a divorce agreement."

Those five years were like a nightmare, reminding her at every hour that she was nothing but a stray dog everyone had thrown away. She couldn't wait to leave this place.

The moment she had the divorce agreement, Sarah emailed it straight to Ralph. But Ralph didn't respond.

For days on end, Ralph didn't come home, as if he were waiting for Sarah to bow her head. He spent those days at Jocelyn's side.

The entertainment headlines exploded, again and again. One day they caught him down on one knee tying Jocelyn's shoelace. The next, they caught him tenderly shielding Jocelyn on her way into the auction house.

This was his usual move. The old Sarah had swallowed it whole, going to grovel and apologize every single time.

Now, lying on the bed, Sarah felt an unexpected calm. She should have known long ago. She'd been the cuckoo in the wrong nest. Ralph had never wanted the Winfields' true heiress. He only wanted Jocelyn. No matter how hard she'd tried, it had made no difference.

She scrolled through the news screenshots, her finger dragging across them, saving each one, and along with the earlier photos of the jewelry, sent them all to Byron.

"Evidence of the marital gifts is complete. For years Ralph gave gifts under the guise of gifting his wife, when the actual recipient was Jocelyn Winfield. Suspected transfer of marital assets."

"Public intimacy with a third party during the marriage. Chain of evidence supplemented."

If Ralph refused to sign the divorce agreement, she would take this evidence and sue for divorce.

Over those days she'd done a great deal, methodically. Saying goodbye to close friends, settling the sponsorship contracts she had on hand, handing off her work, run off her feet with it all.

By the time she saw Ralph and Jocelyn again, three days had passed. It was at Harry Harris's birthday banquet.

Harry was a man of great standing and respect, one of the few who had shown her any kindness back when she'd just been recognized into the Winfield family.

"Sis, you came."

Jocelyn slipped nimbly through the perfumed, glittering crowd, drifting over like a butterfly, her eyes bright with a smile as they settled on the necklace at Sarah's throat.

"Is it this season's new piece, Sis? What a coincidence, I have one too."

Following Jocelyn's gaze, Sarah took in the necklace hanging at that fair throat. Its ruby was clearly larger than the one on hers.

Her guess had been right. All these years of gifts had been what Ralph wanted to give Jocelyn. Hers were only the scraps.

Ralph stood at Jocelyn's side in the posture of a guardian. A talented man, a beautiful woman, a well-matched pair.

His expression turned uneasy, and just as he was about to explain, Sarah smiled. "Yours is lovely too."

She wouldn't care about these trivial little details anymore. None of it mattered.

Before the banquet began, Jocelyn tugged Sarah away with a smile, saying playfully, "I want a few private words with my sister. Ralph, you're not allowed to follow."

Ralph watched Sarah, uneasy, his eyes full of warning. He leaned in, his voice low and rough. "Nothing can happen to the baby in Jocelyn's belly. Sarah, you know where the line is. Don't make me angry."

Sarah turned her head and glanced at him. The look in her eyes was calm, calm enough that Ralph felt an inexplicable flicker of panic. Then she brushed Jocelyn's hand off and eased back a step. "Say whatever you have to say right here. I don't think we're close enough for private words."

Jocelyn smiled and leaned in close. "It's about your grandmother's keepsake."

Sarah's face changed. Before she was recognized into the Winfield family, she and her grandmother had leaned on each other to survive. Later, when her grandmother died, Judy Winfield had found it all bad luck and thrown out everything her grandmother left behind.

She went with Jocelyn all the same. But before she did, her finger silently pressed the record button inside her pocket.

Jocelyn wanted to set a trap for her. But this time, Sarah would not walk into any trap empty-handed.

Jocelyn's steps halted at a corner on the second floor, out of everyone's sight. She smiled sweetly, her eyes brimming with provocation.

"Sis, if I were to fall from up here, do you think Mom and Dad would throw you out of the Winfield family?"

The words had barely left her mouth when Jocelyn threw herself backward and fell, the enormous crash startling everyone below.

"Crack!"

Watching Jocelyn Winfield crumple onto the floor, Judy Winfield was the first to rush over.

Her hands and feet had gone ice-cold. She struck Sarah Winfield hard across the face, her voice shrill. "Jocelyn already knelt down and apologized to you. What more revenge do you want? How can you be so vicious? How did I ever end up with a daughter like you? Get out of my sight!"

"If anything happens to Jocelyn, I will never let you off!"

A high-pitched ringing filled Sarah's ears, and for a moment she couldn't hear. She cupped her cheek and sank to the floor, as if she'd been thrown back to that hopeless afternoon five years ago.

Everyone's faces twisted as they accused her, screaming curses until their voices broke.

It was the nightmare she would never forget.

"It wasn't me!"

Sarah convulsed slightly, as if from shock. Why, when she'd already swallowed her grievance, would these people still not let her go?

She snapped back to herself, pulling free of the collapse rising inside her, and said coldly, "I didn't push her!"

Sarah pressed the recorder gently. She was waiting for the scene to blow up a little more. She wanted every single person to see Jocelyn Winfield's true face.

The commotion swelled. Judy wouldn't hear a word of it. Eyes red, she clawed at Sarah. "You think Jocelyn's insane? That she'd just throw herself down the stairs?"

"Enough."

A cool, faintly hoarse voice cut through the uproar. Ralph Sanchez stood at the third-floor railing, leaning against it, his expression somber.

"Ralph, you're up there?"

Judy looked up, startled, and every gaze in the room turned to Ralph.

Judy let out a cold laugh. "Sarah won't admit it no matter what. Ralph, you tell us. Did Jocelyn fall on her own, or did Sarah push her? Let's put her to rest for good."

Ralph had been on the second floor. From there he must have seen exactly what happened at the turn of the staircase!

Sarah rose and looked straight at him, her voice soft. "You were on the third floor the whole time. You saw everything, didn't you? I didn't push Jocelyn."

Her eyes were rimmed red, and she looked utterly helpless, yet her other hand pressed the recorder on again.

Ralph steadied her, smoothing her gown, a flicker of tenderness in his eyes. But when he lifted his gaze, he saw Jocelyn lying in Judy's arms.

Her face was terrified and bloodless, as though she might shatter in the next breath. She was, after all, the girl he'd carried in his heart for so many years, and she was carrying a child now. Ralph couldn't help but hesitate.

He gripped Sarah's shoulder, his expression gentle, and told himself that even if the Winfields despised Sarah, she was still their true daughter by blood, and blood could not be changed.

But Jocelyn was only their adopted daughter. If she fell out of their favor, she'd be finished for life.

After a moment's thought, Ralph pressed his lips together and said, one word at a time, "I saw it. Sarah pushed Jocelyn."

What? The color drained from Sarah's face in an instant. She tilted her head up in disbelief, as if she had never known Ralph at all.

So whether it was five years ago or five years later, Ralph's heart would never lean toward her.

She had always thought all the torment and pain of her past life, and Ralph's hatred of her, were because she had pushed Jocelyn.

But only now did she understand. That wasn't it.

"Crack!" Sarah lifted her hand and slapped Ralph across the face.

Sarah defended herself one last time, then silently switched off the recorder in her pocket. That one line was enough.

"Sarah Winfield!"

Rolf Winfield's face was livid. Nothing mattered more to him than his reputation, and to have his own daughter harm his beloved adopted daughter in front of all the elite of the Capital's north side enraged him all the more.

If this wasn't handled properly, wouldn't everyone learn that the Winfield family had no proper upbringing?

Rolf's hand came down across her face.

"What did your sister ever do to you, that you keep bullying her again and again? Come home with me!"

One of the wealthy wives let out a cold sneer. "Raised in the slums. No wonder that wildness can't be scrubbed out of her. She needs a good, hard lesson."

The birthday banquet had been thrown into chaos, yet Old Mr. Harris showed no anger. He only urged Rolf, "Sarah isn't that kind of child."

But Rolf wouldn't listen. He forced Sarah home and brought out the rattan cane.

"There's a Sanchez grandchild in your sister's belly. If anything happens to it, can you bear the consequences?"

Sarah struggled, unwilling to yield. "Dad, have you forgotten? I'm your real daughter! I'll say it one more time. I didn't push her. She threw herself down!"

"Enough!"

Sarah Winfield froze where she stood, pinned by the disappointment in Judy Winfield's eyes.

Judy pressed a hand to her chest, her voice breaking with grief. "If I'd known you couldn't stand the sight of Jocelyn, I'd have rather my own daughter had died!"

The words landed like a stone. Sarah went rigid.

When she'd first been brought back into the family, Judy had been kind to her too, gentle and tender. Even so, it had never come close to how she treated Jocelyn.

Sarah understood now. Even if she played them the recording, they wouldn't repent. They'd only despise her for being a scheming, calculating thing.

She drew in a slow breath. If that was how it was, then there was no reason left to spare their dignity for the sake of some so-called family ties.

She switched on the camera built into her recorder.

The barbed rattan cane came down on her without mercy, and her skin was soon torn to a bloody mess.

She forced her head up and saw their faces clearly. Cold. Contemptuous.

By the ninety-ninth stroke, Sarah was soaked through with cold sweat. Only once she was sure the whole punishment had been captured did she let herself pass out, at peace.

She woke in the hospital. Ralph Sanchez was gently dressing the wounds on her arm.

"Sarah, you're awake. Does it still hurt? I had the doctor give you painkillers."

He tended to her with painstaking care, bringing her the chicken soup from her favorite place, trying to feed her.

Sarah knocked the soup aside and turned her face away.

"You saw it. You saw the whole thing. You saw Jocelyn fall on her own. Why? Why did you lie?"

Her voice was ice as she demanded it. Before, she could still convince herself that none of them knew she'd been falsely accused, that that was why they always took Jocelyn's side.

But now Ralph had watched every second of it, and he'd still chosen Jocelyn. It left her lost in a deep, bewildering fog.

Then what had those five years of suffering been for?

"Why? Just tell me why," she said at last, no longer sure whether she was demanding it of Ralph or of her father and mother.

"Ralph, I'm your wife. I'm a person too. Why do you all defend Jocelyn, over and over again? Why?"

Sarah was in agony, and she was demanding an answer for the woman she'd been in her last life.

When she moved as if to tear out her IV line, Ralph caught her hand. "Sarah, calm down."

He pulled her in to soothe her, his voice low. "Listen to me. I had my reasons. You're the Winfields' real daughter. No one will ever do anything to you. But Jocelyn was adopted. If Uncle and Aunt Winfield found out, how would she go on living?"

"So?" Sarah steadied herself and asked it back, cool on the surface, though something in her face was quietly coming apart. "So you chose to let her slander me, chose to make my life miserable. Is that it?"

"You knew. You knew none of them like me!"

Ralph held her tighter, promising it again and again. "Don't cry. You still have me, Sarah. I'll never betray you. I won't ever let you get hurt again."

Liar. All of them, liars. Ralph was Jocelyn's accomplice.

Sarah scoffed inwardly and pushed his hand away, exhausted. "Get out. I'm tired. I want to rest."

"And there won't be any 'again' for us."

There hadn't been in her last life. There wouldn't be in this one.

Ralph didn't catch the second part. He tucked the blanket around her and said gently, "Then rest well."

At the door, Ralph suddenly pressed a hand to his chest, gripped by the feeling that he'd lost something important.

He turned and stared, unwavering, at Sarah's serene, sleeping face.

It was fine. Sarah loved him to the bone. Whatever he did, she would forgive him.

Once the door shut, Sarah opened her eyes, transferred the footage to her phone, and sent a copy to Lawyer Simmons.

"Once the divorce goes through, I'm suing Rolf Winfield for domestic abuse."

The pain she'd endured last life, she would pay back this time, piece by piece.