My Second Chance at Revenge

The powerful Will Hudson, Bardou City's untouchable kingmaker, was set to marry my sister.

Everyone said he was a monster, a man broken in body and mind, that marrying him was no different from stepping into hell itself.

My sister, Carrie Wheaton, wept as if her heart would break.

I pulled her aside and said, "I'll marry him for you. But in return, you'll stay in the countryside and guard the safe buried beneath Mom's grave. For three years, you mustn't open it."

She thought it held a fortune—billions, perhaps—and joy lit up her face. She agreed without hesitation.

I watched her greedy expression twist with excitement and couldn't help the cold smile that rose within me.

'Carrie, guard it well. Let's see if you can handle the kind of fortune that can destroy you.'

"Jessica, we've wronged you," my stepmother said, dabbing at the corners of her eyes in mock sorrow. "But there's nothing we can do. We can't afford to offend the Hudsons."

Her false tears made my stomach turn.

Everyone in Bardou City's upper circles knew about Will Hudson, the heir of the Hudson family.

Half a year ago, a car accident left him crippled from the waist down. His once-gentle temperament had twisted into something dark and violent. They called him a living demon.

The bride he had named was Carrie Wheaton, the Wheaton family's eldest daughter—beautiful, talented, and perfect in every way.

But now, I—the "fake daughter" they had adopted by mistake—was being shoved forward to take her place.

A substitute bride. A sacrificial offering.

Carrie stood off to the side, her lips curving into a barely hidden smirk of schadenfreude.

A lawyer spoke up, "Jessica, once you sign this agreement, you'll become Will's legal wife. As compensation, the Wheaton family will provide you with a sum of money."

I looked up, my gaze sweeping calmly across the three faces before me.

It was a scene I knew all too well.

In my previous life, I had begged and wept, falling to my knees before them. My only answer had been my father's cold, hard slap.

"An imposter like you should be grateful to marry the Hudson heir. Don't overstep your bounds!"

That night, they drugged me and sent me straight to Will's bed. I became his plaything and punching bag, his living vent for rage and hatred.

Later, I learned the truth. The reason Will had insisted on marrying Carrie was because he suspected the Wheaton family's involvement in the car crash that crippled him.

He wanted to keep his enemy's daughter by his side—to torture her slowly, to lure the snake from its hole.

But the Wheaton family, unwilling to sacrifice their real daughter, sent me instead.

When his plan collapsed, Will's fury turned on me with full force.

I still remembered his cold fingers gripping my jaw in that dark basement, the hatred in his eyes so deep it almost devoured me.

"Nick Wheaton sent me this useless thing? Is he mocking me? Tell him—this game has only just begun."

I died in the second winter of our marriage—my body covered in bruises, abandoned in the snow to starve.

As my soul drifted above the frozen ground, I saw him standing over my corpse for a long, long time. There was no satisfaction in his eyes, only an endless, suffocating darkness.

And I saw the Wheaton family thriving after my death, feeding off the fortune they had stolen from my mother's legacy.

My hatred burned through death itself—and when I opened my eyes again, I was back on the very day they forced me to sign that marriage agreement.

"Fine," I said evenly. "I'll sign."

I picked up the pen and signed my name at the bottom of the contract.

The three of them froze.

They must have expected tears. Pleas. Maybe even a hysterical breakdown.

My father, Nick, looked faintly surprised—then coldly satisfied.

My stepmother's fake smile turned almost genuine.

Only Carrie's smug expression faltered, replaced by a flicker of confusion and unease.

When I finished signing, I stood and walked up to Carrie.

"According to our deal," I said softly, "you'll return to the countryside and observe mourning for my mom for three years. Don't forget, all right?"

"Jessica, what game are you playing?" she demanded, taking an involuntary step back.

I smiled. "Carrie, haven't you always wondered why my supposedly poor mother could leave me a mansion?"

Her pupils shrank. I'd hit a nerve.

It was something she'd never been able to get over.

My biological mother, Audrey Redford, had been a legend in the business world—brilliant, beautiful, and tragically short-lived.

After her death, my father, Nick, schemed to seize everything she'd built, telling the world she'd been nothing more than a country bumpkin, while I was dismissed as some pitiful girl from the sticks.

All that remained in my name was that single mansion.

He'd thought it was worthless—until years later, when redevelopment plans turned it into a goldmine. But by then, it was too late for regret.

I leaned close to Carrie's ear, my tone a whisper laced with poison.

"Because my mom was never an ordinary woman. She was the CEO of Redford Group. And beneath her grave lies a safe filled with unregistered bonds she hid away for emergencies. They're worth a fortune."