After Being Exterminated, I was Reborn and Killed My Son-in-law

1

I was the sole heir, and my parents worked their fingers to the bone to leave me a hefty fortune.

The grandma living next door to us adopted me after that, and she coerced me into marrying a gold-digger who turned out to be abusive and unfaithful. Every time I wanted out, she played peacemaker, convincing me to stay.

I didn't realize until he murdered me that he was her secret grandson, her golden boy.

After my death, Grandma hurried over, grinning from ear to ear as she clasped hands with my killer. "At last, the inheritance is ours. Oh, my dear, you've really had a rough year."

And then, I got a second chance at life.

This time, before she could push me into another disastrous marriage, I beat her to the punch with her own line, "Could you set me up with someone? Finding a good partner is crucial for a woman. With no one but you, who else is there to look out for me?"

She was dumbstruck.

Normally, I'd avoid blind dates like the plague.

Last time, it took her ages to trap me with that loser. But now, suddenly asking for a date myself?

When she snapped out of it, her face lit up as she clapped my hand. "That's more like it!"

The gleam in her eyes probably meant she thought she had me hooked.

She had no clue, I was thinking the same about her.

Avoid scumbags to stay safe?

No way. I was going to make them pay for their greed and malice, hitting them where it hurts, out of the blue.

2

Grandma couldn't wait to push her "wonderful grandson" on me again, my past life's nightmare, Liam Wright.

Liam was a soft-spoken associate professor at a local university, clean-cut and refined.

Upon my arrival, he rose to pull out a chair and take my bag. "What's on your mind? I saw on your Instagram you're dieting, so I chose this place—they have whole grain options for every dessert."

Polite, thoughtful, and seemingly sincere.

But who would guess he was a ruthless snake in disguise, ready to strike without warning?

This time around, I could see right through him, the greed and disgust barely concealed behind his courteous facade.

I played the shy card. "I've never been here; what do you recommend?"

Our afternoon coffee was delightful.

Liam shared amusing tales from the university, and I acted the part of an intrigued girl, constantly chiming in with, "And then what?"

Right after we parted, I texted him: [When can we meet again? My friends are eager to meet you~]

My message was playful, but my expression was a smirk.

Liam texted back: [Already introducing me to your friends? How fast are we moving? ~ Bashful]

How else to reel you in if not through meeting my friends?

I responded coolly: [I need a second opinion, can't decide all by myself, right? They're all lookers with deep pockets. You'd better bring your A-game next week!]

3.

The day Liam met my friends, we met at the city's poshest mall.

He showed up in a suit, but I teased him, "What's this? You selling insurance now?"

I led him into a high-end men's boutique. "These threads might just do justice to your looks."

With a wave of my hand, I commanded the salesperson, "Bring these three, let my man try them on."

Liam was taken aback by the tags, murmuring, "Each piece costs a fortune..."

I gave him a sidelong look. "Really? Isn't my boyfriend, Liam Wright, worth a wardrobe update?"

I pushed him into the fitting room with a coy smile. "All my friends rock designer labels; you gotta look the part or they'll think less of you."

Liam tried several suits, and with each, he transformed from a bookish academic to a dashing executive.

He seemed pleased with himself, checking his reflection in the mirror repeatedly.

I clapped decisively. "We're taking all of these!"

The bill came to $103,800.

The sales associate beamed. "Will that be cash or card?"

I kept mum.

Liam looked at me, baffled. I feigned innocence. "Why are you looking at me? Get your wallet out."

Then it hit him.

I was only there to help him pick, not to pay.

I frowned and folded my arms. "Seriously? You go on a date and forget your wallet? You expect me to foot the bill for lunch too?"

I raised my voice so everyone could hear. The whispers and giggles started around us. Someone snickered, "Kept man," and Liam's face turned scarlet.

He pulled out his phone and barked, "Put it on my card!"

His hand trembled as he signed off on the purchase.

Whether it was rage or regret, it made my day.

He stormed out with the shopping bags, a dark cloud over his head.

I quickly caught up, clinging to his arm, cooing, "Don't be mad, darling. This place is a favorite of a close friend. If I had paid, she'd have ribbed me for splurging on my boyfriend. You wouldn't want my friends thinking you're just after my money, right?"

Seeing his mood lighten, I pressed on, "All I wanted was to see your willingness. Once we tie the knot, what's mine is yours, right?"

That seemed to calm him down.

He turned and affectionately tweaked my nose. "Babe, you've got it wrong. I'm not mad at you for wanting to spruce me up; I'm upset you didn't think about treating yourself."

I beamed at him. "Really? Well, there's still time. Let's hit the women's section, shall we?"

Liam's expression soured.

Just desserts for his earlier sweet nothings.

I led him on a marathon through the mall, hitting the luxury women's sections, shoe stores, bag boutiques, and even makeup counters, maxing out his credit cards in the process.

Come lunchtime, we met my friends at an upscale French bistro.

When Liam caught the name of the place, he checked the reviews and balked at the average cost—over $3,000 per person. He almost dropped his phone. "Are we dining on diamonds?"

I touched up my lipstick and scoffed, "Honey, that's just how these upscale French joints roll. Better get used to it, or how will you keep up with my social circle after we're married?"

Liam looked like he swallowed a sour lemon.

I could nearly hear his silent scream—Sure, I can adapt, but my credit limit can't!

Inside, my "friends" were already seated, looking every bit the part of high society.

I introduced them to Liam, one by one, "This is the heiress to a Fortune 500 company; this is an avant-garde artist who just returned from abroad and is planning her own gallery; and this one, her fiancé is listed among the world's billionaires."

The heiress extended her hand with a delicate flair. "I heard from Victoria that you teach. Doesn't pay much, huh? When you're ready to switch, consider my company—between my connection with Victoria and your credentials, a hefty salary is no issue."

Liam was clearly smitten, caught up in the allure of wealth and grace.

Little did he know, these stunning beauties were merely actresses I hired online, each earning $500 an hour.

The feast was extravagant, with wine flowing like water. Liam, ever the show-off in front of my "friends," insisted, "Don't worry, it's on me!"

However, when the $56,000 bill arrived, he double-checked with the manager, bewildered. "But the reviews said $3,000 per person, and there are only five of us..."

The manager responded with patience, "That's correct, but the wine you chose is a premium Burgundy, costing over ten thousand a bottle, and you popped four."

Each of my "friends" had casually opened a bottle.

When Grandma showed up, I was lounging in a high-end karaoke lounge with my "friends," surrounded by a bevy of male models.

She pointed at me, her voice cracking as she shouted, "Victoria, since when do you treat dates like cash cows?"

Ha, as if she and her precious grandson hadn't used me as their personal ATM in my past life.

I swirled my wine nonchalantly. "I can't exactly downgrade my lifestyle for a date, can I? If he can't keep up, clearly we're not meant to be."

Grandma paused, then pleaded, "This behavior won't land you a good man."

I raised an eyebrow. "Why marry at all? I'm loaded. I don't need a man to support me. Heck, I can afford to hire eight male models a month if I feel like it."

Just then, a model leaned in, offering me a grape with a flirtatious smile. "Open wide."

I bit into the grape, patting his cheek appreciatively. "So sweet, good boy."

Grandma looked like she was about to have a stroke. "How can our family produce someone like you!"

I watched her storm out, a slow grin spreading across my face.

4.

In the dead of night, Liam's text popped up: [Babe, where should we head for our date next weekend?]

I knew it.

What's a few grand here and there compared to my millions?

Liam and Grandma sure know how to prioritize.

But really, how does a simple college professor have so much cash to splash around?

Well, he hit up Grandma's stash.

She's got a cool million at least—all thanks to my parents.

I'm dead set on getting every dime back from her.

Each date is under the pretense of "seeing the world," and I drag Liam through every high-ticket scene.

Yacht clubs, exclusive lounges, gourmet restaurants...

There's always a crowd—whether it's my so-called glam squad or budding business moguls, all looking like they stepped out of a luxury ad, chatting up a storm about the latest in haute couture and investment buzz. Of course, they're all just actors I found online.

Poor Liam, never rubbed elbows with the elite and got completely swept up in the faux high society I crafted for him.

Wealth doesn't just blind, it seduces.

Greed can lead anyone who slobbers over something that doesn't belong to him into a trap.

Even the slickest con can get snared.

Liam bought into my facade, thinking I was showing him the ropes, getting him in with the upper crust.

He even thought me letting him foot the bill was a favor—didn't want my rich pals to think less of him.

At the end of every soiree, he'd practically leap to pay, insisting, "I've got this, don't fuss!"

The actors and I would exchange a sly grin.

Testing Liam, I once took him to a diner—a real step down.

He seemed totally out of his element. "What are we doing here?"

Ironically, this dive was more his speed.

He scoffed at the low-priced menu. "People actually eat this stuff?"

Impatiently, he tossed the menu down and pulled me up. "We don't belong here. Let's go hit the water with Lucy, Vivian, and Leslie!"

I let him lead the way out, all the while smirking to myself.

He was sinking deeper, right into my next plot point.

5.

I cheated on him.

Liam caught me in the act at the men's store, the same one we'd visited before.

Yep, there I was, fussing over my new man's tie when Liam barged in, furious, and caught me red-handed.

Nonchalantly, I twirled the tie around my finger, completely indifferent. "Loyalty isn't exactly natural, Liam. You didn't really expect me to hang from one branch forever, did you?"

Back when we were married, Liam was no saint—brought his flings right into our home, no less.

Caught him outright once, and he defended himself just as boldly.

Any clash led to violence, and when I sobbed to Grandma, she'd just scold, "What self-respecting lady airs dirty laundry? Got to own up to your part in his wanderings!"

Her comfort was anything but, "All men stray; it's a tale as old as time. He knows where home is, and that's enough. You don't just throw a marriage away."

The stress morphed into depression over time.

Until one night, Liam spiked my milk with too many sleeping pills and spun it to the cops as my suicide due to depression. That's how he tried to close the chapter on my life of deceit.

Liam's lips quivered with anger.

It was deliciously satisfying to me.

I stepped closer, squeezed his shoulder, and whispered, "Chill, it's just a little flirtation. You're the one I want to tie the knot with."

Adding a flirtatious chuckle, I continued, "I picked up his tab today—know what that means? He's just a toy, and you're my king."

Liam looked at me, almost believing the farce.

Prolonged manipulation can turn any lie into a twisted truth.

I paused, then with a teasing tone, I threatened, "But if you keep up this drama, I might just reconsider."

Smiling sweetly, I caressed his face, coaxing, "Come on, Liam, play nice."

He'd already sunk a fortune into this mess without seeing any returns. How could he just walk away now?

He fell for my 'just a bit of fun' line, sticking around, desperate to be the one, all while turning a blind eye to my wandering eye.

I had him wrapped around my finger, always anxious about being dumped.

If I left now, not only would he lose any shot at my fortune, but he'd also be back to his modest roots—back to wearing off-rack suits and dining at diners.

How could he give that up?

Sometimes he'd even ask, "Should we invite that guy?" just to curry favor.

Inside, I'd sneer at his desperation.

But outwardly, I'd beam, "Why bother? That's old news."

Clinging to his arm, I played the doting partner. "You're the one, Liam. I'm over the games. Let's think about getting hitched, shall we?"