Second Life: Dead Wife Rises For Vengeance

Outside, the deciduous trees in the yard stood bare and desolate. In the garden, a lone rosebush bloomed stubbornly against the cold, its deep red petals sharp against the winter gray.

"Andrea, why are you dressed so lightly? You'll catch a cold."

Charles had just returned home and immediately spotted his daughter standing by the window. Concern filled his eyes.

Andrea's heart jolted. Tears instantly welled up. It was her father-the man who had loved her the most.

She spun around and threw herself into his arms. In her previous life, she had ignored his objections and insisted on marrying Steven-breaking his heart completely.

"Dad... I missed you so much. I'm sorry..."

"Silly girl," Charles laughed, stroking her hair. "Didn't we just see each other this morning?" Then his tone turned serious. "Andrea, no more dangerous behavior. Dad's getting old-I can't handle scares like that."

She nodded vigorously. "Dad, from now on, I'll listen to you. I won't make you angry anymore."

"My Andrea has grown up." He sighed with relief, then deliberately put on a stern face. "Go upstairs and put on something warmer. You're still recovering."

"Okay, okay-I'll listen." She hugged him tightly, then ran upstairs.

From the second-floor landing, Melinda watched the scene with barely concealed jealousy. Her usually stern husband rarely smiled at her or Sandra-but with Andrea, he never held back his warmth.

Had he ever truly cared about her, his wife?

"Good evening, Auntie," Andrea greeted sweetly as they passed on the stairs.

Melinda smiled gently. "Go change and come down for dinner."

Once Andrea disappeared upstairs, Melinda's smile slowly faded. A chill crept into her eyes, replacing the warmth with something cold and calculating.

At dinner, Charles kept adding food to Andrea's plate until it formed a small mountain.

"Dad, if you keep feeding me like this, I'm going to turn into a little pig."

"A pig would still be adorable," he laughed. "You've lost weight. Here, have some soup."

He filled half her bowl with chicken soup, then poured some for Sandra and Darius as well.

"Thank you, Uncle Charles," Sandra said softly as she accepted the bowl.

Inside, bitterness surged through her chest.

No matter how hard she tried, she would never compare to his biological daughter.

...

The next day was Sunday-and also the day Andrea and Steven had planned to go out together.

She woke early, dressed herself beautifully, and calmly took in Sandra's barely hidden jealousy.

Just after nine, Steven arrived to pick her up. Dressed in a black overcoat, he looked refined and striking.

Andrea skipped toward him, her expression bright and innocent.

"Good morning."

"Good morning," he replied, his gaze so gentle it almost seemed to melt.

She smiled sweetly. With the nanny's help, she slipped on a white cape-like coat, looking like a porcelain doll. Grabbing her purse, she turned to Sandra.

"Sandra, are you sure you don't want to come? He's not a stranger. It'd be more fun with more people, right?"

She tilted her head toward Steven, eyes curved in a smile. "Don't you think so?"

For some reason, he felt the urge to ruffle her hair. But as his gaze swept over the Reed family's understated luxury, the thought faded.

He smiled politely. "Andrea's right. Sandra, why don't you join us?"

Sandra's eyes lit up.

'He called my name.'

Her heart raced. She wanted to shout yes-but when she saw Andrea secretly blink at her, looking almost pleading, she forced herself to calm down.

She smiled stiffly. "I already have plans with a friend. You two go ahead and have fun."

"That's a shame," Andrea said lightly, waving. "We'll be off then."

Steven nodded politely.

The moment they disappeared through the gate, Sandra grabbed a vase and smashed it onto the floor. Porcelain shattered as her beautiful face twisted with rage and jealousy.

"How long do I have to endure this?!" she screamed in the master bedroom.

"I liked him first! Why should I give him to that bitch Andrea?! I'm not willing-I'm not! He likes me too! We're meant to be together!"

Melinda pressed a finger hard against her forehead, furious.

"That poor boy again? What's so special about him? You're going to marry into a wealthy family someday. Stop wasting time on nobodies!"

"You can't say that!" Sandra shouted back.

"He may be poor now, but he's capable and ambitious! He'll succeed! I like men with drive!"

"Foolish!" Melinda snapped.

"No connections, no capital-no matter how hard he works, the best he'll ever be is a middle manager. He already lost at the starting line compared to real heirs."

She frowned, her patience wearing thin.

"Listen to me. With your stepfather's position, marrying into a wealthy family will be easy. Why cling to a poor man and make life harder for yourself?"

She paused, then added casually, "That Frederick Brown-he's interested in you, isn't he? He'd be much more suitable."