The Woman Who Changed Fate

Peter Kingsley looked utterly aggrieved.

“Grandpa, the one I love is Yvonne! Even if it kills me, I’ll never marry her!”

Mr. Arthur frowned.

“Miss Tessa said she can help resolve the witch curse. There’s no need for marriage.”

Peter clearly didn’t believe a word. He looked at me and suddenly sneered.

“So now you’re playing hard to get? Don’t disgust me.”

“In our last life, you were nothing more than a pathetic lackey, Tessa. Completely despicable.”

“Stay away from me. Yvonne doesn’t like me touching other women.”

As soon as he finished speaking, his phone rang. He picked it up, and in an instant, his expression softened.

“Yvonne? What’s wrong? Are you not feeling well? I’ll be right there.”

As soon as he left, I quietly plucked a strand of hair that had fallen on his shoulder.

“Peter, everything that happened in the last life, you brought it on yourself. Don’t blame me for being ruthless this time.”

What I didn’t know then was that Peter had also been reborn.

But it didn’t matter. As long as I burned his hair in the Kingsley Family’s ancestral tomb, their lineage would never recover.

Although Mr. Arthur treated me as an honored guest, the servants in the villa looked down on me. One even poured scalding water toward me on purpose.

At that moment, a sharp male voice rang from the doorway.

“Miss Tessa is a guest of the Kingsley Family. Is this how you treat her?”

I looked up and met a pair of fiery, penetrating eyes.

It was him.

Charles Xavier.

Peter’s best friend. In my past life, when I was buried alive and barely breathing, it was Charles who had gone mad, digging through the grave with his bare hands to save me.

He had come to find Peter, but upon seeing he wasn’t home, he turned to leave.

Before walking out, he paused and said:

“Tessa, if you ever feel wronged here, come find me.”

Those words pierced something in my heart. I held on to them quietly.

That night, as I lay half-asleep, faint sobbing stirred me awake.

“Peter... slower…”

I sat up, instantly alert. That voice, I knew it all too well.

In my last life, after I got pregnant, Peter brought Yvonne Shelton into our home without shame and openly humiliated me. He even enacted a live erotic scene right in front of me.

And now, through the window, I saw them again Peter and Yvonne, entangled in the courtyard.

My heart chilled.

Peter came from three generations of wealth and power. He was always refined and obsessive about propriety, yet he willingly desecrated his family courtyard for lust.

Yvonne’s cheeks were flushed as she leaned coyly into him.

“Peter, what if your wife, the one who’s supposed to ward off evil spirits, sees us?”

As if expecting me, Peter turned his head. Our eyes met.

He had planned this. He wanted me to see. He wanted me to suffer.

“Yvonne,” he said solemnly, “you are the only one I’ll ever love.”

“I’d rather sneak around with you in the courtyard than ever touch her.”

“Since she dares to live under the Kingsley roof, she should be prepared to live like a widow forever.”

Yvonne giggled softly, pressing herself against his chest.

“Peter, you’re too sweet.”

Peter held her with tenderness, but his eyes were filled with nothing but contempt as they met mine.

In the past, seeing the two of them together shattered me. I collapsed emotionally, spiraling into despair.

But now, I felt nothing.

No love, no pain, only a cold detachment.

Just as I was about to close the window, a hand reached out and stopped me.

“Miss Tessa is my guest. I dare anyone to touch her!”