Reborn My Husband's 'Therapy' With His First Love Was a Lie

"Funny how you were moaning and laughing like that just now. Sounded pretty thrilling for someone with an allergy. Or was the whole thing fake?"

Mamie's face drained of color. Her eyes rimmed red in an instant, and she threw herself into Oliver's arms, sobbing with theatrical anguish.

"Oliver, look at what she's saying to me! How can she be so cruel? My allergy is real. You're the only one who can touch me." She turned her tear-streaked face toward me. "If you hate me that much, if you want me gone, I'll go. Right now."

"I'll just spend the rest of my life alone. Become a nun."

She slid off the bed barefoot, hands covering her face, making a show of bolting for the door.

Oliver reacted instantly. He jumped off the bed and caught her in his arms, pulling her close. Then he turned and shoved me square in the chest.

"Bernice, I understand you're jealous, but you don't get to be this vicious. You'd really drive Mamie away? Condemn her to a lifetime of loneliness?"

"She has a rare condition. Do you have any idea how much she's suffered? She finally found me, the one person who can help her. You're both women. Can't you show a shred of compassion?"

I stumbled backward and slammed into the wall. Pain shot through my spine, sharp and rigid. A laugh escaped me before I could stop it.

"Oliver Delgado, you really think you're something special, don't you? 'The one person.' You actually believe you're some kind of miracle cure?"

I whipped out my phone and aimed it at the two of them tangled together. The shutter clicked. Once. Twice.

"Tell you what. I'll send these to a medical specialist and ask what kind of allergy gets treated like this. Aren't you worried someone might die from the exertion?"

Oliver panicked. He lunged at me, grabbing for the phone.

"Bernice, have you lost your mind? If those photos get out, Mamie's reputation is finished!"

He seized my wrist and clamped down on my fingers, trying to pry the phone loose.

The pain bit into my hand, sharp and immediate. My heart went cold.

In my last life, he had been exactly the same. Protecting Mamie without question, without limit. When she'd thrown a cup of scalding water in my face, his first concern had been whether she had burned her hand.

I lowered my head and sank my teeth into the back of his hand, biting down until I felt skin give way against my teeth.

Oliver yelped and released my wrist, but only to grab my shoulders and pin me against the wall. His voice came out low and vicious.

"Bernice. Delete those photos. Now. Or you're not walking out of this room."

I smiled. Cold and thin. My thumb hovered over the send button, and I pressed down just enough for him to see.

"Is that so? Then let's play a little game. I dare you to strangle me right here."

"If you don't let go, my finger might just slip. I'm a journalist, Oliver. If this lands in my press group chat, that's on you."

He released me like I'd burned him. He stood frozen in place, swallowing hard.

"Fine. I'm not touching you. Just delete the photos."

For a man who served as Operations Director of a Fortune 500 company, Oliver Delgado had sweat beading on his forehead.

He knew the power of the internet. If those photos went viral, the whole world would be buzzing. Desensitization therapy. How cutting-edge. His precious darling's name would be dragged through the mud.

Mamie's eyes darted. Then she dropped to her knees with a thud.

"Please, Bernice. You've misunderstood. Oliver really was giving me treatment. Maybe I'm better now. Maybe the allergy is gone."

Oliver nodded frantically, his voice clipped with impatience.

"Bernice, this is great news. I was just about to tell you. I didn't expect you to barge in and blow everything out of proportion."

He reached for my arm, his tone shifting to something coaxing, almost sweet.

"It's over now. Mamie's condition has stabilized. From here on out, I can focus on you and the baby. No more misunderstandings."

"Stop being so paranoid all the time. You're making yourself crazy."

His face was inches from mine. And all I could see were the images from my last life, flashing through my mind like a reel that wouldn't stop.

Me, lying on the cold tile floor. Him, cradling his childhood sweetheart, whispering that it wasn't her fault. Telling her I'd been unstable because of the pregnancy. That I'd fallen down the stairs on my own. That he would sign the statement clearing her of any wrongdoing.