Reborn to Revenge My Husband's Family Killed the Wrong Child

At the New Year's gathering, the children goaded my son into wearing a horse mascot costume. They rode him like livestock, kicking and striking his small body, until they buried him face-down in a snowdrift.

He suffocated in the freezing cold.

I went mad with grief. I wanted to call the police, but my relatives turned on me, slandering me with accusations that I was the one who'd killed my own child.

My husband, Derek Lawson, stood on the sidelines, offering cold persuasion instead of comfort. "Just admit to negligence," he'd said, his voice empty. "Domestic violence isn't a capital offense. We can't let the children end up with criminal records over an accident."

Crushed by slander and loss, I suffered a complete breakdown. I wandered into traffic. My life ended beneath the wheels of a car.

When I opened my eyes, I was back. New Year's Day again.

I immediately contacted my mother and sent my son away. "Ethan Fletcher, you're sleeping at Grandma's tonight," I told him, voice trembling. "Do not come back here."

I watched them leave the complex, relief washing over me. But the moment I turned back toward the house, my blood ran cold.

The red horse mascot costume was there. Again.

Panic clawed at my throat. I scanned the yard. All the relatives' children were present—not one missing.

So who the hell is inside that suit?

——

The figure stumbled forward, gait unsteady. A muffled voice called out from inside.

"Dad."

I whipped around. Derek stood smoking with several male relatives, laughing.

I swept the yard again. Diana Lawson's son was building a snowman. Aunt Brenda's twins were locked in a snowball fight. The other children played in clusters. Every single one accounted for.

Could Ethan have secretly run back?

The thought hit me like a blow. My blood turned to ice.

No. It can't be.

I muttered the denial, hands shaking as I reached for my phone. I had to call my mother. Had to confirm—

A hand snatched the phone from my grip.

"All the guests have arrived. Why are you spacing out?" Derek had appeared without a sound, eyes cold, tone demanding. "Go greet them. And check the soup in the kitchen."

Before I could protest, Diana stepped forward. She hooked her arm through mine, leaning in with a sickeningly sweet smile. "Sister-in-law, come here. I have something to tell you."

Déjà vu hit like a nightmare.

In my previous life, Diana used a "heart-to-heart" to trick me into a room, locking me away for nearly an hour. When I emerged, I only saw children throwing snowballs at a snowman—unaware my son had already stopped breathing inside that red suit.

I violently shook off her hand and marched toward the mascot.

I didn't make it two steps. Aunt Brenda and two other relatives swarmed me, forming a human wall.

"Oh my, what's wrong with you?" Brenda's massive frame blocked my path, her face beaming with fake warmth. "Diana just wants to talk. Why act like this?"

"It's rare for the whole family to be together," Cousin Linda chimed in, grabbing my arm in a vice grip. "Come inside. It's freezing."

They pushed me toward the house, their collective weight a barrier. I struggled, twisted, but against three women, I was helpless.

I wrenched my head back. The children had already surrounded the mascot.

"Ride the horse! Ride the horse!"

Diana's son shouted the command. A pack of boys rushed forward, shoving the clumsy figure down into the snow, scrambling on top.

One, two, three—they piled on, a mountain of heavy coats and cruelty.

The mascot thrashed beneath them, struggling futilely. The weight was too great. It couldn't rise.

"Stop!"

I screamed, shoving Brenda aside with every ounce of adrenaline.

"Stop playing! Get off! You'll hurt him!"

I lunged forward, but Derek stepped into my path, catching me. His expression flickered with annoyance.

"The kids are just messing around. What are you making a fuss about?"

"It's New Year's," Margaret Lawson added, walking over with a deep frown. "Don't ruin the mood."