He Stole My Life for His Mistress,So I Took Everything Back

My daughter was a butterfly baby—her skin as fragile as a butterfly's wings, shattering at the slightest touch.

In my previous life, my husband found some dark practitioner who offered me a deal: trade ten years of my lifespan for three million dollars to pay for my daughter's surgery.

But he took that money and secretly used it to extend the life of his mistress's terminally ill son by ten years.

Without the surgery in time, my daughter's skin broke down completely. Infection spread through her tiny body, and she slipped away from me forever.

My husband consoled me afterward. Even if she'd had the surgery, he said, she would've been sickly her whole life. It's better she moved on to her next life sooner.

When he realized I'd discovered the truth, his tone shifted to irritated justification:

"Anita's a single mother. If Hayden Acevedo dies, she won't survive it either."

"We're different. If our daughter's gone, we can always have another one."

My heart turned to ice.

I crushed sleeping pills into his drink. I filled the bathtub with scalding water. And while he slept, I let him cook until he was medium-well.

Then I took my daughter in my arms and walked into the river.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day I traded ten years of my life for three million dollars.

——

The ritual had reached its final step when I suddenly stood, interrupting the incantation.

Gideon Crowe stopped mid-chant, his brow furrowing as he looked at me.

My husband Elijah Dickerson was even more impatient: "Cassie, what's wrong? The master's at the crucial moment! Don't move!"

I ignored him. One kick sent the brazier flying, scattering ash and talisman paper across the floor.

Gideon yelped and leaped back. Elijah's face went rigid with fury.

"Cassandra Salazar! What the hell are you doing?!"

I brushed the dust from my clothes and turned to leave.

"I'm not doing this. Trading ten years of my life for three million? I've decided it's a bad deal."

Elijah caught up and grabbed my wrist, fingers digging in hard.

"Cassie, what kind of tantrum is this? Nora Abbott needs that surgery money! This is the only way!"

I wrenched free of his grip, my smile cold enough to frost glass.

"The only way? Tell me, Elijah—is Nora only my daughter? Why don't you trade your life instead?"

His expression froze. Then, just as quickly, it morphed into something more desperate.

"What kind of thing is that to say?! I'm the backbone of this family. If I lose ten years, who's going to take care of you and Nora? I'm thinking about all of us here!"

Rage coiled tight in my chest, but I forced myself to stay calm.

"Then sell the house. Sell the car. Take out loans. Why does it have to be my life? Elijah—" I let the question hang, sharp as a blade. "Are you that eager for me to die early?"

His face went completely dark.

He hadn't expected this. The wife who had always been gentle and compliant, suddenly baring her teeth.

"Cassandra, have you lost your mind?"

"I went through hell to find this master! You're her mother—isn't sacrificing a little for your daughter what you're supposed to do?"

In my previous life, I'd been too desperate. Too easily swayed by his persuasion. I traded ten years of my lifespan and received three million dollars in return.

But when I went to the hospital to pay for Nora's treatment, the money had vanished from my account.

My mind went blank. I called the police immediately.

But the bank records showed nothing unusual. It was as if that money had never existed at all.

Everyone thought I'd gone mad. But I knew that money was real.

Then came the accident. Nora fell from her hospital bed. Her fragile skin tore open, wounds spreading across her tiny body. Infection set in.

She never recovered.

I wanted to end everything—to follow my daughter into the dark. But before I could, I stumbled upon the truth.

It had all been a conspiracy. My husband and his precious first love, working together.

The three million I'd traded my life for? He'd secretly transferred it to extend Anita Pruitt's dying son's life by ten years.

Because it was dark magic, no trace remained.

He'd even forged psychiatric records in my name—just to make sure no one would ever believe me. All to keep his mistress calm.

Every time I remembered Nora lying in the ICU, her entire body wrapped in gauze, crying so softly because even tears hurt her skin—

It felt like a knife twisting in my chest.

This time, I would make sure this cheating bastard and his whore knew exactly what it felt like to have their lives stolen from them.