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Second Life, Second Chance Novel Cover

Second Life, Second Chance

After fifty years of marriage, a woman discovers her union with Damien Slater was a fabrication. Her husband’s legal wife is actually his sister-in-law, Vanessa. Worse, the son she raised isn't hers; Damien swapped the infants at birth and drowned her biological child to secure a future for Vanessa's offspring. Heartbroken and dying from the shock, she suddenly regresses in time to the day she went into labor. Now, she has a second chance to save her son and dismantle the lives of those who betrayed her.
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Chapter 3

Vanessa didn’t contradict Damien. In fact, she barely even reacted, her gaze fixed entirely on Kenneth.

“Exactly. That brat doesn’t even compare. Good riddance.”

I lowered my eyes, hiding my scorn.

I had once thought Vanessa’s obsession with my child came from grief over her husband and child.

Now, knowing the truth, I finally understood their twisted motives.

Suppressing my nausea, I dismissed them with a few curt words.

Then I made a trip to the morgue.

Sure enough, Vanessa’s son lay there.

I studied him carefully, confirming that this was the child they had drowned with their own hands.

On the way back to the ward, I deliberately took another way—but ran straight into Damien and Vanessa.

They clung to each other in a shadowed corner, kissing with abandon.

Vanessa panted as she pressed herself against Damien, her breath ragged.

“We’ve finally dealt with that nuisance. It was your son, after all—shouldn’t you feel bad?”

Damien’s eyes softened with affection.

“How could I? I only recognize our children. Tanya’s child was nothing but an animal.

“But she has her uses. Clever though she is, she still has to raise our son.

“And once we go to the base, no one will disturb us there. Haven’t you been waiting for this?”

Vanessa, her cheeks flushed, slapped his chest playfully.

“You tease!”

I felt my bile rise.

Taking advantage of their entanglement, I grabbed the nearest object I could reach and hurled it at them and ran.

The two of them were startled, too shocked to shout as they glanced around frantically.

I returned to the front desk, borrowed a phone from a nurse, and called my superior to request a transfer.

I had always been a top student at the university. After graduation, I married Damien, sacrificing countless opportunities for him.

Even when my superior suggested I develop my career in a more developed city, I refused because of my pregnancy.

But now, I would no longer be restrained. Even with a child in my arms, I would leave.

After being discharged and returning home, the first thing I did was retrieve the marriage certificate.

Damien, a colonel in the military, had somehow forged a seemingly authentic certificate for me while secretly registering a real marriage with Vanessa.

It was laughable—I had treasured a fake certificate for fifty years.

I tore it in half.

It was good that it was a fake.

I wouldn't have to bother with a divorce when I'd leave in a month.

Both Vanessa and I were in confinement after childbirth.

She lay in bed, waited on hand and foot, and Damien brought everything to her.

Sometimes, when he feared that overindulging her would reveal his deceit, he compensated by fussing over me.

“Her baby died, so she’s exhausted and worried. I am her only support.”

I said nothing.

He seemed blind to my struggles. Every task done alone, every hardship in solitude. Not once was there a word of concern.

Each night, when Kenneth cried, Damien would rise in irritation, saying he would sleep in another room, only to turn and go straight into Vanessa’s room.

The next morning, Vanessa smiled, covering her mouth in surprise.

“You’ve got it rough. Look at those dark circles—no sleep at all, huh?”

She gloated, basking in her small victories, unaware that I, too, had a smile on my lips as I turned away.

I began packing my belongings in secret while Damien, oblivious as ever, noticed nothing.

It wasn't until that evening when he returned holding an envelope, his expression grim.

“What’s this, Tanya?”

The envelope bore the large print of a transfer order my superior had sent.

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