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“Chairman Hawthorne, your wife gave birth, but she’s hemorrhaging badly…” “Give up.” “And the baby?” “If it dies, dispose of it.” ... Nadia Somerset opened her eyes with great effort. She was seated in a sleek car en route to a charity gala. The autumn air was brisk, the sunlight blinding, beads of sweat gathering stubbornly on her nose. But she shouldn’t be here. She was supposed to be dead, wasn’t she? Dead on an operating table, her life bleeding away relentlessly as the doctors and nurses frantically tried everything to stop it. She remembered the sterile fabric being crammed into her open abdomen, layer upon desperate layer. And then, as her consciousness faded like smoke on the air, she’d heard Sebastian Hawthorne’s voice. Cold. Cruel. “Stop the resuscitation.” Her throat had been raw and voiceless, but her heart had screamed. Pleaded. ‘Please… don’t give up on me.’ “No! No…!” His callousness cut deeper than steel. His voice came again, sharper now. “Is the baby dead?” “Mr. Hawthorne, sir, the child is alive.” “Send it to an orphanage.” Sebastian had discarded their own flesh and blood as though it were refuse, sealing her fate with a finality as merciless as the grave. Crushed by despair, she had died sooner than even the doctors had predicted. “Madam, the car has arrived.” The driver’s polished politeness drew her back from the abyss of her memories. He was holding the door open for her, his manner deferential. “Chairman Hawthorne is waiting inside.” Nadia forced herself to focus, swallowing the storm rising within her chest. It took her several beats to compose her breathing before she stepped out of the car. Her gaze found him across the grand entrance to the gala, effortlessly commanding attention as he conversed with a circle of distinguished guests. Sebastian was dressed impeccably in a bespoke suit tailored to perfection, tall and lean, his features aristocratic. Even the sunlight seemed to favor him, alighting on the diamond cufflinks at his sleeve. Cufflinks she had given him for their wedding anniversary. But now, those same cufflinks glinted rebelliously as the girl at his side fiddled with them—her slender fingers utterly at ease. “Nadia.” Sebastian broke away from his circle and approached her in quick strides. His deep voice, smooth and cordial, carried an introduction: “This is Anna Sutherland. She’s someone our relief programs paired us with during that earthquake rescue initiative. She lost all her family in the disaster and developed severe anxiety. I’d like to bring her home for you to personally care for her until she recovers enough to attend school. How do you feel about that?” Sebastian turned to Anna and prompted gently, “Speak up.” “Nadia…” Her name emerged, murmured from lips that barely moved. The girl hadn’t lifted her head once. Nadia studied her—a shy, delicate face shadowed by timidity. At that moment, Nadia’s doubts crystallized into certainty. She had come back from the dead. Reborn into this specific moment: the day Sebastian introduced Anna into her life. In her previous life, Sebastian had always maintained a fondness for philanthropy, though his efforts were often formulaic, perfunctory. Donations of money or goods were tasked to his assistant; public appearances were strictly photo ops for company PR. Visits to schools for lectures, gifting warmth and supplies to retirement homes—everything served a carefully orchestrated corporate agenda. Never, not once, had he insisted on taking someone into their home. This time, however, something had shifted. He was emotionally invested. Nadia saw it in his eyes—a yearning he didn’t bother masking. He longed to anchor Anna close, to unravel his wife’s presence, thread by thread, from the tapestry of his life. “Alright.” Sebastian blinked, caught off-guard. “You agree?” His skepticism was apparent, testing her resolve. She glanced at him—the sparkle of joy warred with his guarded control, as if he dared not let excitement spill over prematurely. Her lips curved with a bitter edge. “Yes.” The taste of her own words was acrid, but she swallowed them all the same. Once, she had believed in their story, their partnership. She and Sebastian had been childhood sweethearts, their families harmoniously matched in wealth and privilege. For her, he had flown three hours out of his way just to buy her favorite green dumplings when none else could satisfy her appetite. Friends marveled at his devotion, calling it obsessive, enchanting. For seven years, he pursued her, tirelessly chipping away at every doubt she’d harbored until at last she agreed to a life together. Their marriage had been radiant with indulgence and intimacy—three years of promise and partnership so flawless it was easy to forget the outside world existed. One furrowed brow from her was enough to stir his concern; not a single meaningful date passed without his reverent presence. He had given her an illusion so convincing, she’d nearly believed it. Even if every man alive were destined to betray, Sebastian Hawthorne, surely, was the exception. He wasn’t. Men love loudly, ardently. They make you feel invincible, hoist you above the clouds, and shield you from storms like the axis of their universe. But when that love dies, the fall is just as violent, just as terminal. There’s no fury like a heart gone cold. She had overestimated his devotion, and tragically underestimated the cruelty of a man who no longer cared. Anna’s arrival sparked a tiny flame of discontent inside Sebastian—a flicker of a feeling that began to pull him away from her. In her previous life, Nadia had sensed trouble in her marriage at precisely this moment. She had confronted Anna several times in private, wielding the authority of a wife, and made it crystal clear: no one ruins her family to become the other woman. But a man’s heart, once moved, defies moral boundaries. When Anna appeared in front of Nadia with traces of Sebastian’s affection brazenly visible, like those unmistakable marks on her neck, Nadia broke. Completely. She gave Anna money to leave Riverbend forever—hushed, irrevocable. Anna wasn’t going to see Sebastian again in this life or any other. Yet fate had a twisted sense of irony. The night Anna left, tragedy struck. A gang of men violated her, brutalized her, and killed her. The scene had been so grotesquely cruel that Nadia couldn’t fully push it from her mind, even when the body was long gone. For Sebastian, though, that tragedy sealed a doom. Anna became the ghost of his heart, the forever, haunting blot of red—the inerasable memory of lust and possession lost. The marriage cracked open wide, its jagged edges unstoppable. Sebastian started avoiding his home. Gossip columns came alive with new pictures, new women—each chosen to look a little too much like Anna. It wasn’t subtle. It was a knife deliberately shown, each photograph meant to make Nadia understand her humiliation. ‘Even a second-rate version of her,’ those images said, ‘is enough to grind you beneath my heel.’ In Nadia’s eyes, her husband no longer saw a wife but a specter to blame; he wanted her obliterated outright. His contempt climaxed most vividly years later when she’d hemorrhaged during childbirth—a moment most men would plead for salvation. Sebastian had stood coldly and uttered, “Don’t bother. Let her die.” But justice is not blind forever. Nadia woke in another timeline, her chance to rewrite this life gifted back to her like thorns twisted into vines. This time around, she wouldn’t cling, she wouldn’t beg—and she wouldn’t fight for scraps of Sebastian’s attention. She had decided to let him go before he could swallow her whole again. She’d leave him holding ash. Sebastian’s voice disrupted her steeling mind when they faced each other in the parlor. “Nadia, are you upset? Anna won’t be living here long, I promise. She’s considerate—not someone who would cause unnecessary trouble for us.” “Is that so?” Nadia answered quietly. Her gaze shifted from Sebastian to Anna—a girl too young, too soft, too afraid. The girl’s white skin seemed delicate as porcelain; shadowy lashes framed solemn eyes, unable to meet Nadia’s stare. Lips pinkened faintly with gloss. The innocence of an eighteen-year-old swirled through this room—and yet the air around her carried the weight of destruction, a pull that Sebastian clearly felt. Though her ponytail spoke simplicity, her presence was anything but simple. Sebastian’s pawing at her delicacy—unmistakable—and her tendency to retreat behind him told the story of their intimacy without words. What bound them had not been born just yesterday but had a lengthier tale; that much was clear now. For Nadia, this new life was a cold epiphany. ‘How long has this already been going on?’ she wondered. Had their connection bled through days, weeks, months unspoken? What games had Sebastian already played while she struggled for fragments of normalcy beside him? Her line of sight darted from Anna back to Sebastian’s eyes. Beneath his practiced glare lay complication, a semblance of hesitation polished under shallow decency—weakness disguised. He asked without asking, perhaps fearing her rejection for what it could mean: some fault in his chessboard of manipulations. In the Nadia of the past, only tears and tantrums followed moments like these. She had climbed too many emotional walls trying to trap Sebastian back into their shared home, their shared future, but his betrayal always clung closer and closer each time. It had taken death for her to leave that Nadia behind. Now Sebastian could parade all he wanted—his heart a hollow husk barely tethered to hers. The change unfurled inside her with sharp finality. Anna wasn’t a disruption to her family anymore. Sebastian was already unmoored, and Nadia wouldn’t chase him among the waves. “If Ms. Sutherland intends to live here,” Nadia began with cool detachment, “then she should feel at ease knowing I will take care of everything.” Her words echoed strangely in the air, drawing Sebastian’s gaze sharp with underlying relief. Predictably, he softened, scooping an arm around her and caressing her forehead lightly with a kiss. “I knew you wouldn’t mind, Nadia. That’s why I love you for all your grace.” ‘Grace?’ Nadia thought bitterly, the mockery cutting deep. Had grace stitched her veins shut back then as the light drained from her body on the birthing table? Could it console a mother robbed of seeing her child’s face because her husband saw her as expendable, disposable? Grace hadn’t saved her then—and it wouldn’t free her now. But she wouldn’t squabble. This was Sebastian’s illusion, not hers. Her lips formed a placid smile instead. “I’m thinking, Ms. Sutherland, shall we head to the mall?” She turned to Anna with deliberate patience in tone, as though daring the girl to pull back or make matters transparent. “You shouldn’t be without things you prefer. Sebastian wouldn’t like me neglecting your comfort.” Anna flinched faintly, fingers trembling—hidden as best she could—but her murmured response faltered into that quiet twelve-second surrender only guilty newcomers seem to fall for. “Whatever…whatever you decide, uh—would be fine. I…I’m not picky.” Sebastian expanded the conversation briskly, binding fragile threads of propriety tighter. “Anna can’t have mango, Nadia. She’s allergic—anything containing mango, avoid that. Drinks, dishes, anything.” His tone implied command, not nuance. Nadia’s chest prickled with an ache, though her outward poise didn’t buckle. “Understood,” she murmured softly. The smile remained intact—the perfect symbol of her promised detachment. Chapter 2: New Love Smiles, Old Love Weeps As the echoes of the party faded behind her, Nadia stepped into the car and motioned for the driver to wait outside. Alone in the hushed, confined space, she picked up her phone and dialed a trusted lawyer friend. “I’m divorcing Sebastian,” she said, her voice sharp with resolve. There was a stunned silence on the other end. “You’re serious?” “Start digging into Sebastian’s affairs and draft the divorce papers. As soon as possible.” Her tone was calm—too calm. After confirming this wasn’t the byproduct of a drunken impulse or an argument, her friend finally responded, “Alright, I’ll get right on it.” “Thank you.” Once the call ended, Nadia stared blankly at her phone. Her lock screen still bore the wedding photo of her and Sebastian, captured in a moment of pure joy. The depth of her smile now felt like a cruel joke. “Nadia, I’ll love you until the end of time—through this life, the next, and the life after that. Forever, without fail.” “Nadia, marrying you is the greatest blessing of my life. I want you to be happy every single day. I promise you’ll never cry because of me.” “Nadia, let’s have a baby. A symbol of our love. I know he’ll be the most beautiful little thing in the world.” “Nadia...” “Nadia...” The whispered echoes of his vows clawed at her heart, carving into the tender walls of her memory like a slow, cruel decay. Her lips twisted into a bitter smile. “Sebastian, you forgot your promises long ago. And our child…” She pressed her eyes shut, her hand gripping the supple leather seat with white-knuckled force as sobs shuddered at the edge of her mouth until they broke free, spilling in silent streaks down her cheeks. Hours later, long into the night, she finally returned to the home they once shared. Familiar as it was, the house felt hollow tonight. A handful of servants moved quietly through its spacious rooms, but there was no sign of Sebastian. “Is Mr. Sutherland not back yet?” Nadia asked as she slipped off her stilettos and slid into a pair of house slippers. “And Ms. Sutherland hasn’t returned either?” Of course, she knew that Sebastian would at least see his sweetheart home if he wasn’t coming back himself. The servant looked puzzled. “Madam, Mr. Sutherland hasn’t come home, and I haven’t seen anyone by the name of Ms. Sutherland.” Nadia froze momentarily before her expression smoothed into one of detached calm. Slowly, methodically, she moved past the servant. The faint tremble of her lips betrayed a turmoil she refused to show. ‘So they’re not coming back tonight,’ she thought. “All right, go ahead and rest.” “Thank you, Madam.” In another life, Nadia had seen this night unfold differently. Sebastian had dared to bring Anna home, introducing her like an honored guest. Nadia had rejected her outright, slapping him in front of everyone present and delivering words so scathing they’d echoed in the room long after her voice had fallen silent. Sebastian had stormed out, dragging Anna with him despite the stunned and embarrassed faces of their audience. They had left together with the intensity of lovers running away to elope—acting on a love reckless and overwhelming. Sebastian, it seemed, had never changed. When he loved, it consumed him, and consequence faded. The only difference now was the person he loved. He had once told her that every man of their standing had his share of confidantes and companions—call them muses, call them lovers. The physical side? That was simply a matter of choice. But Sebastian? He had pursued the full spectrum, never sparing a thought for restraint. Did he remember those vows, Nadia wondered, while he whispered sweet words to Anna? Did fragments of promises past ever flicker behind his eyes? It didn’t matter anymore. Nadia took a deep breath. None of it mattered. Returning to this life wasn’t for the sake of salvaging love—or a marriage too heavy with betrayal to carry. Turning off the lights, she moved upstairs with quiet deliberation. Her bare feet whispered softly against the cool floor as she reached the second landing. Then the sound of the front door opening froze her mid-step. Sebastian and Anna entered together. “Is Nadia still out? Or has she already turned in for the night?” Anna’s voice was sweet, timid, and gratingly effective. She cast her eyes around the room while Sebastian moved with casual authority. “She’s probably already asleep; she always turns in early,” he answered flatly. Anna pretended to nod, then hesitated. “Sebastian, moving in here feels… improper. Nadia didn’t seem very welcoming earlier. Do you think she dislikes me? Should I…” Her words trailed off as she made a show of glancing toward the door, hesitant to stay. Sebastian raised a hand to stop her. “She wouldn’t dislike you. Don’t overthink it.” Her wide, glassy eyes filled with redness as though she might cry, trembling with a well-practiced air of fragile innocence. She stared at Sebastian, wounded and searching. He didn’t look away. Slowly, his face tilted downward toward hers, his lips aligning with calculated ease. Under the faint glow of the hallway’s nightlight, their intertwined forms cut stark, cruel shapes against the backdrop of the house. Nadia stood in the shadow nearby, her eyes absorbing every detail while her chest tightened against the ache blooming there. Love, she thought, was always the same: bright laughs for the newcomers, quiet tears for the abandoned. Lowering her gaze, she drew her emotions inward, locking them far away in a place where they could neither bleed out nor be touched again. Without a sound, she turned and stepped toward her room, leaving them behind as surely as they’d left her. That evening. Sebastian didn’t return to his room right away. Instead, he went next door—to the room he’d prepared for Anna. Despite their attempts to suppress it, Nadia still heard the muffled, unmistakable sounds that only a man and a woman together could produce. In her previous life, she had been so blind. Ridiculously blind. They had already reached *this* level of intimacy, and she had failed to notice. Nadia assumed that Sebastian would spend the entire night with Anna. But perhaps his conscience pricked him—or maybe he suddenly remembered his wife was just next door. Whatever the reason, he pulled back. When he climbed into bed beside her, he wrapped an arm around her waist. Then, brushing a kiss against her cheek, he murmured, "You’ve been so tired lately. Don’t tell me you’re pregnant?" In the darkness, Nadia’s eyes lit up instantly. Pregnant? Of course—three months before the end of her previous life, she had already started trying for a baby. It was around this same time she’d found out she was expecting. She couldn’t let past tragedies repeat themselves in this life. Under the covers, her slender fingers gripped the hem of her pajama shirt, trembling slightly as she managed a soft reply. "No." "Then we’ll go in for a checkup sometime," he suggested. "If you’re not pregnant, we can... work harder." His lips traveled along the curve of her neck, patient but insistent, his fingers interlocking with hers. His desire was painfully apparent. Nadia couldn’t fathom it. How could a man climb out of another woman’s bed and, without breaking a sweat, pretend to care about creating a child with his wife? To act like this, to say such things—he had to have shed any sense of shame long ago. "Sebastian," Nadia began, her voice quiet but deliberate. "Do you really think there’s any reason for us to bring a baby into this?" A pause hung heavy between them. Five seconds, perhaps six. He was hesitating. Because of Anna, no doubt. The only reason he was considering this at all was the pressure from their families—it had nothing to do with actually wanting a child. Definitely not one born out of love. "If you’re not ready to settle down yet," he said at last, his voice taking on a colder, sharper edge, "we could always wait." That thin veneer of civility barely masked a trace of relief in his tone, as though he’d been eager to pass the responsibility back to her. A chill settled over her heart. Once again, Sebastian had found a way to shift the blame onto her. "Sebastian," she asked softly, the words raw and jagged, "do you still love me?" In the stillness of the night, her question landed with awkward sharpness, more startling than it should have been. What would he say? Would he tell the truth? Or would he dodge it entirely? After all, he had Anna now. And a man like him—already betraying her in every way that mattered—should at least be honest with the person he truly cared about. In their last life, she had asked him the same question, though in far more heated circumstances. She had confronted him, demanded to know how he could love someone else. He’d only glared at her then, his expression cruel and unyielding. "Nadia," he had said, his voice a blade, "you’re not even worth Anna’s little finger. How could you expect me to love you?" His answer had been clear that day, etched into her heart like a scar. Now, she asked not because she expected anything different, but because she wanted to see if—just this once—he might feel guilty enough to lie. To grant her some fleeting comfort, even if it was insincere. But no. Her hope, faint and foolish, proved unfounded. Sebastian’s silence spoke louder than any words. He hadn’t loved her for a long time. Perhaps from the very moment Anna came into his life, that love had snuffed itself out entirely. After what felt like an eternity, he finally broke the silence. "Are you still upset about Anna moving in?" She gazed vacantly at the faint moonlight streaming through the window. Did her feelings even matter anymore? If they did, he would never have asked such a question. "She’s just a homeless kid," he said, exasperation creeping into his voice. "All it takes is a little help from us, and she’s free of that mess. Why shouldn’t we do it?" He paused, his patience fraying. "Nadia, can’t you stop being so—so petty and jealous?" Chapter 3: Flirting Nadia’s smile was bitter. Yes, in her previous life, she’d been nothing if not a jealous woman. Sebastian had made sure of that—he’d nailed her to the pillar of shame. During her pregnancy, he’d used her jealousy as his weapon, harping on it daily, pressuring her to leave him, to leave their home. Divorce, though, had remained unspoken—Sebastian prized his reputation too highly to risk being labeled a heartless husband. It wasn’t chivalry; it was vanity. Back then, she’d suffered endlessly, her life neither wholly human nor entirely ghost. In the end, even that torment hadn’t spared her the final blow. “So?” Nadia pressed with quiet defiance. “Do you still love me?” Sebastian threw aside the covers and got out of bed. His voice was as cold as the floor beneath his feet. “Stop asking pointless questions. What you really need right now is a good night’s sleep. I’ll be in the guest room.” And just like that, he ran. Not a composed retreat, but a clumsy, frightened flight. ****** By morning, when Nadia descended the stairs, the domestic tableau in the kitchen sapped the air from her lungs. Anna stood in front of the stove, fumbling over breakfast—a picture of charming awkwardness wrapped up in an apron. Hovering near the doorway was Sebastian, arms crossed, watching her with a tenderness so intoxicating it seemed an entirely different man had replaced the one who’d walked out of their bedroom last night. His smile was brimming, teetering on the edge of overflowing, as if this home belonged to the two of them and Nadia was the intruder, an uninvited trespasser. Anna had made curry rice. When she tried to lift the steaming pot, her grip faltered from the heat. Sebastian swooped in to take it, earning a nervous giggle from Anna as she reached up to touch her earlobe—a bashful, playful gesture. The intimacy of the moment felt so seamless, so natural, that Nadia’s mere presence seemed like a sin. Then Anna turned her head and spotted Nadia. An awkward panic flickered in Anna’s eyes, quickly masked by careful politeness. “Nadia, I made breakfast. I’m not sure if it’s to your taste.” Nadia’s gaze shifted to the dining table. Two sets of chopsticks. Two bowls. Clearly, they hadn’t planned for her. The sound of Nadia’s footsteps had drawn Sebastian’s attention. He glanced toward her, his tone noticeably softer compared to the chill of last night. “Anna made breakfast,” he said. “Your stomach’s always been sensitive, and rice is easy to digest. You should eat something.” His gentleness now wasn’t for her sake. No, it was for Anna, to preserve the fragile girl’s feelings. He’d always been considerate when it came to protecting his ‘little darling.’ But he had forgotten—or perhaps refused to remember—that Nadia detested curry. That he himself didn’t particularly like it, either. “No, thanks,” Nadia said flatly. “I have other plans.” She hadn’t fabricated the excuse. Today, meeting with her lawyer friend was far more pressing than sitting through this farce. Sebastian didn’t ask where she was going, didn’t inquire what plans might be so important. His indifference was offensively stark. His attention had long shifted elsewhere, to lighthearted moments in the kitchen rather than the heavier truths of her life. What had become of the man who used to jump, breathless with concern, at the slightest hint she might venture out alone to run even a mundane errand? That man was gone. She slipped into her shoes, preparing to leave. Anna intercepted her with two slightly misshapen avocado-flavored rolls. “Nadia, it’s bad for your health to skip breakfast. Take these,” Anna offered shyly, holding the bread out like a tentative peace offering. Nadia raised an eyebrow at the lumpy rolls; they looked amateurish, though the aroma was rich and enticing. “I made them fresh this morning,” Anna explained, flustered. “I know they don’t look great, but they taste good, I promise.” “Take them,” Sebastian urged, his tone lighter, almost imploring. “Anna’s just trying to be thoughtful.” Anna nodded, inching the bread closer to Nadia. For a moment, Nadia studied Anna’s face. Whatever flicker of emotion crossed her own features went unseen. In the end, she extended a hand and accepted the rolls. Moments later, as she left the house, she tossed them directly into the trash. It wasn’t until she reached her car that she realized she’d forgotten her keys. She must have left them on the cabinet near the shoe rack during her rushed exit. Cursing her oversight, she turned back. As she opened the front door, she froze mid-step. In the dining room, Sebastian had Anna backed against the table, their proximity charged with undeniable tension. Eyes locked, their gazes were tethers, pulling, stretching, coiling tighter. They hadn’t noticed her return. Whatever restraint they might have kept before was now absent. They were too absorbed in the exhilaration of the moment. Too absorbed in each other. Nadia’s phone rang, piercing the hush. Startled, they both whipped around, wide-eyed with surprise and guilt. Nadia silenced the call calmly, her eyes dropping to Sebastian’s mouth—the faint smear of curry at the corner of his lips. He paled slightly, his expression shifting uneasily. Anna scrambled to explain, her voice coming in frantic bursts. “Nadia, it’s—it’s not what you think! Sebastian and I—we—well, it was the banana peel! Yes, the banana peel! I slipped on it, and—and that’s why—” She faltered, desperate, flustered. “It’s a misunderstanding! Please, don’t take it the wrong way!” Sebastian avoided Nadia’s gaze entirely, muttering, “That’s right. A banana peel. Nothing else. Don’t misunderstand.” The lie was so absurd that Nadia couldn’t help but laugh. A banana peel bearing the weight of this fragile charade? Even the bananas themselves wouldn’t have believed it. “I see,” she said smoothly. Picking up her keys, she turned to leave without another word. Sebastian watched her go, his brow furrowing. Something about her reaction unsettled him. Could she really have accepted the weak pretext at face value? In the past, even the slightest closeness he’d shared with other women would have ignited her fury—epic arguments, weeks of tense silence, months of icy estrangement. Winning her forgiveness had always meant groveling. But today? There was nothing. No rage. No confrontation. Just quiet acceptance. It wasn’t like her at all. Nadia drove out of the driveway, the engine smoothing into a hum as the road stretched ahead. On her way, she placed a call to Melody Pembroke, asking her to meet at the law firm. It had been Melody who introduced her to the lawyer years ago. Now, when the shards of her marriage scattered across every corner of her mind, it was the lawyer, and Melody, whose advice she sought to piece together her plans for divorce. Melody arrived earlier than Nadia. By the time Nadia stepped through the glass doors into the firm’s sparsely adorned meeting room, a storm had already burst. Melody had torn into Sebastian with all the fury of a woman whose warnings had gone unheeded. "When he was chasing you so relentlessly, I told you—didn’t I tell you? Men like him are cunning. They can bend themselves so far to please, but it’s only a matter of time before they snap back and cut you down. I told you if he ever stopped loving you, you’d be the one taken down with his blade,” Melody said coldly, folding her arms as she glowered. "You didn’t listen.” Her face was grim. Back then, words like these had driven a wedge between them. Nadia, defensive and enamored, had turned her back on Melody’s friendship for Sebastian’s promises, and Melody—for all her frustration—had let the friendship dissolve quietly. And then Nadia married Sebastian. That was the end of Melody and Nadia. Today, when Melody picked up her phone and heard Nadia’s shaken voice, she was blindsided—she hadn’t expected this call, hadn’t anticipated that this would be the reason they spoke again. "I thought…” Nadia started, faltering like a delicate thread about to snap. "I thought Sebastian would love me for a lifetime.” Her voice wavered, a trembling note barely contained. Melody’s gaze hardened, though not unkindly. She leaned over slightly, her tone heavy with conviction. "Men like Sebastian—they have endless curiosities and fleeting allegiances. That wild energy, that hunger, it's why they'll fight so fiercely to win you—but once they’re satisfied, that hunger turns elsewhere. Especially when it comes to women. You don’t deserve it, but that’s how men like him are.” Nadia drew in a fragile, steadying breath. "Melody…" She paused, her throat aching with the weight of forming the words. "I’ve decided. I’m divorcing Sebastian.” "You should've done it a long time ago," Melody replied sharply, though her eyes softened just slightly, a trace of relief flickering through her features. "Thank God you two don’t have any children. At least that spares you the chaos of having another tie to Sebastian. Believe me—it’d be misery multiplied.” Nadia’s lips curled faintly, a smile that barely reached her eyes, more bitter than amused—more resigned. ‘Children...’ The single word echoed painfully in her chest. Once, she did have a child. Or rather, she was carrying one. Until Sebastian—until he had taken—everything. Her life as a mother, her hope, her child. To this day, Nadia didn’t know if it had been a boy or a girl. It hadn’t mattered in the end because in one cruel strike, it was gone. Her hand came to her chest, cradling an ache so deep it darkened her breathing. A sharp pang twisted in her heart, a heat that burned inwardly and outwardly, spilling into her trembling voice. The lawyer, Penelope Fletcher, quietly slid a glass of water across the polished table toward Nadia. "It’ll take time to investigate Sebastian’s financials and position everything properly," Penelope said, her voice smooth and measured. "Why not start by telling me what you want included in the settlement? I can draft an initial agreement while we move forward." Melody, ever direct and unyielding, interjected sharply. "He cheated on her. That means he walks away with nothing, not even lint in his pocket!” Her words burned, righteous indignation scathing like fire. But Nadia, with a quiet gravity to her voice, murmured, "It won’t happen, Melody." She understood just how far Sebastian had drifted from the lover he once claimed he’d be, how low he could stoop to twist truths and avoid culpability. Men like him were eternally skilled at dodging responsibility—an art both perplexing and infuriating. Her hands, pale against the polished table, clasped tighter as another thought emerged from the mire of her memories. "When I married him," she said, steady with purpose now, "my parents gave Southgate land as part of my dowry.” The memory blistered like a recent scar—Sebastian had built a theme park on that land, 'Anna's Park,' a monument to everything ruined. He gave it to Anna—to her rival—as they mocked Nadia’s devotion. It was completed just days before Nadia had died. She wouldn’t let it stay gone. Penelope paused, then nodded thoughtfully. "That shouldn’t pose too much of a problem. It’s a solid starting point. What else are you looking to secure?” What else? Nadia hesitated, her resistance flaring at the thought of extending this battle, of drawing out the pain by chasing after every legal crumb. She didn’t have the energy, the willpower to crawl through the remnants of their broken promises and desperation-filled nights. This fight wasn’t worth carving herself into more pieces than she’d already lost. Melody met Penelope’s glance, understanding quietly. "She doesn’t want to fight for anything else," Melody said—the words succinct but laden with empathy, protective, like she was speaking on behalf of a battle-weary soldier. Chapter 4: She Was Timid Nadia nodded calmly. What mattered to her wasn't how much of Sebastian's wealth she could claim. It was whether he could simply and decisively end their marriage. The tangled web of interests tying Somerset and Hawthorne—their intertwined companies, their shared stakes—it was far too deep-rooted. Even with someone new occupying his affections, there was no guarantee he'd turn his back completely on her and sever their bond without hesitation. Sorting all of this out would inevitably require lawyers, an unwelcomed necessity but unavoidable. “Attorney Fletcher, draft a reasonable property division agreement as quickly as possible, ensuring Somerset family interests aren't compromised,” Nadia requested, her tone firm and direct. “The sooner we can resolve this, the better.” Penelope recognized the urgency beneath her words. Divorce cases like this were all too common among high-society couples; they didn’t tend to be overly complicated, but they always demanded time. “All right,” Penelope agreed curtly. Melody, clearly bristling, couldn't bite back her frustration. "You’re too gracious—it’s outrageous. He betrayed your marriage. He should pay for that. I'm not saying you should leave him destitute, but at least make him fork over enough to feel the sting. Your forgiveness will only pave the way for his happily-ever-after with the other woman." Nadia understood the logic. She’d lived it herself too many times before. Bleeding her heart dry in front of a man who didn’t love her—pleading, raging, lowering herself—accomplished nothing but stripping away her dignity. She had been that woman once, sobbing and desperate. And still, Sebastian had loved Anna to the point that he would have handed over his very life for her. Clinging to him hadn’t worked then; Nadia knew better now. Compared to the suffocating despair of her previous life, all she wanted today was escape. “I just want the divorce finalized as quickly as possible.” Melody eyed her with a mix of confusion and compassion. She didn’t know what had changed in Nadia recently, but her concern lingered in the silence between them. Finally, she sighed. “Penelope, just do what Nadia said. One way or another, guys like Sebastian always face the consequences someday,” she said, almost wistful. When they left the law office, Melody suggested grabbing a drink together to blow off some steam. Nadia shook her head. She had something far more pressing to take care of today. "Melody, another time, okay?" She wasn’t about to argue. With a reassuring squeeze to Nadia’s arm, Melody said, "Where there's a will, there's a way. It'll work out fine." Nadia nodded faintly, grateful but distant. She knew. Her destination was the hospital. She booked an appointment at the gynecology clinic. Above everything else now, she needed to be sure—to confirm whether or not she was pregnant. She wasn’t going to let history repeat itself. “When was your last period?” the doctor asked. “On the 18th of last month,” Nadia replied. “And when was your last time having intercourse?” “Two days ago.” “Let’s start with a blood test.” The doctor handed her the slip and sent her off to the lab. The results came back quickly. Negative. She felt her chest loosen with relief: she wasn’t pregnant. The doctor glanced at the report, but her tone remained brisk and professional. "Negative for now doesn’t mean you’re not pregnant. Two days ago falls outside your 'safe period,' and relying on that concept alone isn’t foolproof anyway. If you don’t want children right now, you should take emergency contraception, ideally within seventy-two hours." Nadia nodded. "Please. Can you prescribe it for me?" …… Walking out of the hospital, Nadia’s phone rang. Sebastian. "Hello," she answered. "Nadia, there’s something I need to discuss with you," his voice came through polished but restrained. Her instincts told her this was about Anna. There was no other reason Sebastian would lower himself to use the word "discuss." "What is it?" she asked. “Anna’s birthday is the day after tomorrow. I want to throw her a lavish celebration. What do you think?” His tone carried a subtle undercurrent—excitement, anticipation—a faint charge she couldn’t ignore. Nadia said nothing. Perhaps sensing her silence, he pushed further. “Anna doesn't have much family left now. Actually, she doesn’t even like celebrating birthdays; she’s resistant to the idea. But I’ve insisted—it’s important to lift her mood. It’ll help her recovery too, don’t you think? Offering her kindness, humanity—that’s the right thing to do, isn’t it?” There it was. Humanity. Kindness. Nadia’s chest tightened. How cruelly twisted those words sounded coming from him. Before she could respond, Anna’s voice floated through the line, soft and coquettish. “Sebastian, I really don’t need a party. I don’t want to trouble Nadia.” Her tone was syrupy, almost childlike, the kind that clings and coaxes until resolve melts away. Nadia could imagine her—a doe-eyed figure curled into Sebastian’s arms, toying with his collar as she murmured. Nadia’s eyes closed briefly. ‘Just say it. Let’s get this over with,’ she thought. “All right,” she said evenly, though the words felt like shards in her throat. “Great!” Sebastian’s enthusiasm broke free. “I’ll bring Anna over to see you soon. The two of you can go over the arrangements together. It’ll be her day—a perfect, unforgettable celebration she’ll look back on fondly. And hey, by making this happen, we’re doing a good deed too.” "Okay," Nadia replied, her voice quiet and devoid of fight. Nadia's studio. Sebastian personally escorted Anna inside. The young woman wore a white dress, trimmed with lace, its hem adorned with pearls and rhinestones—a creation of exquisite craftsmanship. Nadia recognized it immediately. She'd seen the same dress in a magazine, luxury dripping from every inch of it. It could only have come from Sebastian. “Nadia.” Anna looked up timidly, the corners of her mouth curling into the kind of smile that couldn’t quite hide the warmth of being doted upon. “Really, just a simple birthday is fine. I promise I don’t need anything grand. You and Sebastian have both already been so good to me.” Nadia studied her. Whether it was nervousness or guilt staining the girl’s cheeks red, her face remained calm. In her past life, her impression of Anna wasn’t much different from now. The girl didn’t speak much, whatever she said always weighted by the same glistening, doe-eyed gaze. That fragile, wilting innocence of hers—it had often served as the spark for Nadia and Sebastian’s arguments. It brought out the worst in her too. Too much hysteria in front of Anna. Too much pride stripped bare, begging for Sebastian’s care afterward. She’d always forgotten, always denied the truth: she was no longer the person Sebastian treasured above all else. He wasn’t the man who would brew her medicinal red sugar tea at any hour of the night—not anymore. “If you truly don’t have any preferences,” Nadia said evenly, “then I’ll plan it to the same standard I’d use for my own birthdays.” Anna hesitated but ultimately nodded, her tone soft and obliging. “I’ll leave it to you, Sis.” Sebastian's hand came to rest lightly on Anna’s back. His voice carried that same gentle cadence he always reserved for her. “Go wait in the car. I need to talk to Nadia for a moment.” “Alright.” The room thinned as Anna left, leaving behind only silence—and Sebastian’s expression. His demeanor shifted, darkened as his gaze settled over Nadia. “Anna’s young,” he said at last. His voice was low, heavy like an admonishment. “She’s timid. Add anxiety on top of that... You need to keep your tone softer next time you talk to her.” He was criticizing her. For what, exactly? She hadn’t even done anything. Nadia felt the chill settle into her chest like frost creeping across glass. Sebastian seemed to catch the rigidity of his own words. His tone softened—though not much, and certainly not enough. “I’m not blaming you, really. She’s a patient, Nadia. We just need to be more understanding, that’s all. Don’t take it personally.” “Sebastian.” Her voice was level, her gaze unwavering. “You’re in love with her, aren’t you?” She hadn’t wanted to say it. Not like this. Not this soon. If she were honest, Nadia hadn’t wanted to say it at all after being given this second chance at life. She had planned to hold her tongue and keep the truth folded away. But his urgency, his desperation—it left her no choice. His devotion to Anna had already rendered Nadia invisible in the marriage they still shared. “If you love her, Sebastian, then we can get divorced,” she said. The statement was calm, resigned, as if she'd spoken about splitting up furniture rather than hearts. For a long moment, he didn’t answer. His eyes flickered, his shock evident. Sebastian had never expected Nadia to breach the topic with anything but thrown plates and slammed doors. “Divorce,” he repeated, pressing the word through gritted teeth. “Is that all you know how to say?” His gaze fixed on her face, perfectly sculpted yet unreadable. Frustration knotted deep in his brow. “Nadia, can you really not just live peacefully? Why do you have to bring this up? It’s not just about you—you’re tearing down the very foundation of this marriage every time you start this. No one’s going to keep indulging you forever.” In Nadia’s previous life, her fights with Sebastian had followed a predictable script—always centering on divorce, always ended with his knees on the floor and mumbled apologies coaxing her back from the edge. But things had shifted somewhere along the way. Maybe at the very moment Anna entered Sebastian’s world. He no longer feared the possibility that Nadia might leave. He barely seemed concerned whether she stayed. “Forget it,” he muttered, cutting himself off. The heat in his voice simmered down, muted with irritation. “Stop torturing yourself with all this nonsense. I’ll go now.” A pause. “Do your best to prepare Anna’s birthday party, Nadia. I know it’s a lot, but she deserves it.” He nodded once, briefly, and left without waiting for her response. And Nadia stayed behind, alone, surrounded only by silence, the phantom echo of footsteps fading in the hall. Chapter 5: From the Depths, No Boundaries Anna’s birthday party. The celebration was hosted at Nadia and Sebastian’s house. The villa’s lawn had been transformed into a vision of elegance, decked out with twinkling lights, balloons, unending sprays of fresh flowers, and delicate white gauze drapes. Sebastian had extended invitations to Riverbend’s most notable figures, ensuring Anna’s birthday would be witnessed by the influential elite. The sound of confetti cannons erupted, marking her entrance as a cascade of ribbons and glitter sparkled in the air. Arm in arm with Sebastian, Anna stepped in, her sweet smile dazzling the gathered crowd. The guests couldn’t resist murmuring among themselves. “I heard Mrs. Hawthorne personally oversaw the arrangements. Quite thoughtful of her.” “That girl is one of Mr. Hawthorne’s beneficiaries. To put in so much effort for her—it really speaks to his generosity.” “Mr. Hawthorne has always been big on charity, so it isn’t surprising at all.” Nadia stood at a distance, the murmurs of admiration for Sebastian’s supposed altruism swirling around her. Her lips curled into a disdainful smile. At the center of the lawn, a man and a woman clasped hands over a knife, cutting through the three-tiered cake Nadia herself had prepared. Applause erupted as the cake was portioned. Sebastian then signaled his assistant, who presented a meticulously wrapped gift. When unwrapped, the reveal was dramatic—it was a necklace called Venus’s Tears, a breathtaking blue diamond. The diamond symbolized love, beauty, and loyalty. In her previous life, Nadia had yearned for that necklace, telling Sebastian time and again how much she adored it and asking him to bid for it as a gift for her. His promises were many. None came to fruition. Not because he forgot—but because she was never the one he intended to give it to. The recipient was always Anna. Sebastian personally fastened the necklace around Anna’s neck, and the room collectively gasped. This wasn’t just a necklace—it was legend. Coveted by countless aristocrats and tycoons, its price tag had skyrocketed to nearly one hundred million. “But isn’t she supposed to be just a beneficiary? Such extravagance for a charity case? Do you think Mrs. Hawthorne approved of this?” “This isn’t your ordinary necklace. Even out of pity, this level of generosity feels excessive.” “I remember last year Sebastian gave Mrs. Hawthorne an expensive necklace for her birthday too, but it was nowhere near the rarity of this one.” “Beneficiary? I doubt it… Look how close they’re standing, whispering like that. They seem awfully intimate.” “No wonder Mrs. Hawthorne is tucked away in the corner—probably nursing heartbreak.” The whispers wove together, carrying through the air like tendrils of smoke, slipping into Anna’s awareness. Her face flushed crimson. “No, Sebastian… this is too much! It’s too precious—I can’t accept it. You should give it to Nadia, I… I’m not worthy,” Anna stammered, reaching for the clasp. “You’re wearing it. You deserve it.” His hand pressed hers firmly away, his low voice gravelly yet commanding. “And I have an even bigger gift for you.” “What?” Anna’s gaze flickered between unease and excitement. Sebastian unveiled a small, polished jewelry box and opened it delicately, revealing a heart-shaped meteorite within. “This is your second gift. This meteorite came from outer space. I’ve purchased the naming rights to the star it originated from, and it’s been christened Anna. Your star, your birthday gift.” His voice was steady, not overly loud, but the microphone carried it with striking clarity. The guests craned their necks, eager to catch a glimpse of the extraordinary meteorite inside that box. Anna’s expression was inscrutable. Her outward calm betrayed no emotion as she watched, silenced by the stage that wasn’t hers. A love story unfolded before her, sculpted in gifts that placed worlds at a woman’s feet. In her past life, she had fought against Sebastian bringing Anna into their home. He had, instead, secured a separate home—away from Nadia, just for Anna. Nadia had always known Sebastian loved Anna deeply, but she had never fully seen the intricacies of that devotion. Love, Sebastian showed her now, wasn’t just passion—it was a compulsion to deliver the world’s rarest treasures into her hands. Like Venus’s Tears. Or a star named after her. Once, Nadia had felt the brilliance of that same love. It had bought her limited-edition cars, the world’s purest diamonds, impossible luxuries that he lavished upon her. The person had changed. The tricks had not. And perhaps someday, Anna would replace Nadia as the discarded woman. But that day was not today. Today, Sebastian’s heart and soul belonged unequivocally to Anna. The freshness of this love was untouched. It radiated with the tender vitality of something unspoiled—and all-consuming. Onstage, a performance of unbridled passion unfolded. Beneath the lights, the audience’s verdicts on Sebastian and Anna’s relationship varied wildly—speculation, judgment, and whispers fluttering among the guests like restless moths. Some, too brazen by half, ventured close to Nadia, weighing in on the connection between the pair occupying the stage. "Mrs. Hawthorne, don’t be too trusting," someone said in a tone that implied concern but dripped with scrutiny. "That young woman—there’s nothing simple about her." Another chimed in, their voice heavy with approval of their own wisdom. "Girls like her these days, they’ve got no moral bottom line. Especially those who claw their way up from the bottom. Their goals are crystal clear, Mrs. Hawthorne—keep an eye on her." Nadia only pressed her lips into a faint smile, her expression unyielding, her silence deft. Raising her gaze ever so slightly, she caught Sebastian looking her way. There was something in her impertu...

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