The End of Your Family

The night my in-laws were rushed to the hospital after a car accident, I hurried over to handle the situation.

At the payment counter, I swiped my card—only to find that the joint account I shared with my husband had a mere two dollars left.

I called my husband, Zarrick Thompson, over and over again.

But he never picked up.

It wasn't until later that I learned the truth—he had taken our money to celebrate his first love's birthday.

Desperate, I borrowed seventy thousand from a friend to save my in-laws. But after they recovered, they flat-out denied everything.

My husband, meanwhile, made no attempt to hide his relationship with her. He wanted me gone.

To force me into a divorce, he went as far as setting me up—staging an affair, taking photos of me being humiliated. Then he used them to threaten me.

Either I walked away with nothing, shouldering all our debts, or he would ruin me completely.

I worked endlessly, day and night, to pay it all off. Until, one winter, I collapsed in a frozen alley and never got up again.

But when I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of the accident.

When I got the news about my in-laws' car accident, I took my time—dragging my feet for a full two hours before heading to the hospital.

By the time I arrived, they were hanging by a thread.

Lying there, barely breathing, they looked nothing like the vicious, sharp-tongued people I remembered from my past life. A twisted sense of satisfaction welled up inside me when I saw them like this.

At the payment counter, I handed over my bank card. When the screen flashed "insufficient funds," I wasn't surprised.

After all, Zarrick had been quietly siphoning off our shared assets for a while now.

But in front of everyone else, I played my part perfectly—faking frantic desperation.

At the nurses' station, I kept dialing his number over and over. No answer.

Only when I borrowed the hospital's phone did he finally pick up, sounding irritated the moment he realized it was me.

"Zarrick, Dad and Mom were in an accident. We need money—"

"OMG, can you stop? Why the hell should I pay for your parents' accident?"

His tone was full of disgust.

I let out a shaky breath, pretending not to be affected. "Zarrick, this is an emergency. Just transfer the money first, and we'll sort out everything else when you get back, okay?"

A woman's voice chimed in from the other end. "Amber, why do you always ask Zarrick for money whenever something happens? That's not right. These days, even in marriage, a woman should still be financially independent."

Zarrick clearly took her words to heart. "All you ever think about is money. Can't you learn from Kelly? She never acts so materialistic."

I made sure to look devastated, putting on the perfect performance in front of the hospital staff.

"Zarrick, Dad and Mom are dying. At least bring my share of our savings over for this, please?"

He scoffed, then hung up on me.

I let out a choked sob, tears spilling down as I begged the doctors for a little more time to gather the funds.

In my past life, on this very day, Zarrick had emptied our entire savings—just to throw Kelly Isle a lavish birthday party.

While they were basking in the glow of celebration, I was running around, borrowing money from everyone and anyone to save his parents. I even mortgaged my property and pawned the gold jewelry from our wedding.

And for what?

Not only was Zarrick ungrateful, but he also accused me of acting on my own. And with just a few words from Kelly, he slapped me across the face.

Ever since Kelly reentered his life, our fights never stopped. In the end, she took my place completely.

She had a hand in my death, too.

Zarrick must have conveniently forgotten that his current success—his status, his income—was all thanks to my parents.

Back then, blinded by love, I had fought like a cornered animal, harming myself as much as I harmed him.

But this time? I was going to settle every score.

I arrived at Kelly's birthday party with a group of people in tow.

Under the warm glow of the chandeliers, Zarrick and Kelly were drinking from the same glass, the crowd cheering them on.

Their affection for each other was sickening, a disgusting display of intimacy. If there had been a bed nearby, I was sure they would have tumbled onto it right then and there.

The memory of my past life—their betrayal, my suffering—flooded back like a tidal wave.

I wanted to tear them apart, strip them of their perfect, polished facade.