In my previous life, a manipulative man deceived me into taking out high-interest loans, leading to my development of cervical cancer and passing away full of resentment. But when I opened my eyes again, I found myself two years back in time. This time, I encouraged him to take on reckless loans and urged his mistress to indulge in a "fast cash advance" that cost her her dignity. He foolishly set his own trap, and I watched with detachment as he fell into it.

Reborn, my mission was clear: drag him into an abyss from which he'd never escape.

Jaime Kelley was in the middle of unbuttoning his pants, a sleazy grin on his face. "Hey babe, your period's over, right?" In my previous life, it was his constant betrayals and affairs that led to repeated infections, eventually developing into late-stage cervical cancer. His betrayals didn't stop there; he tricked me into a fake divorce, claiming he needed loans to start a business. Naively, I trusted him, thinking he had finally grown up, only to find myself trapped in his web. I even agreed to a degrading cash advance to help him secure more loans.

On a whim, I visited the factory, only to find it shut down, with workers protesting outside, demanding unpaid wages. I confronted him: "What's going on here?" His response was as infuriating as it was predictable: "It's not my problem; you're the legal owner and the one who took out the loans."

Lying on the bed, fists clenched, I said, "I'm still not recovered from my infection. The doctor advised against any intimacy." I cursed my past foolishness—once trust is broken, a "problematic man" like him should be discarded immediately. Yet I kept forgiving him, again and again. When the cancer pain overwhelmed me, I would curl up in agony, unable to afford painkillers. I even resorted to banging my head against the wall, hoping to faint, just to escape the relentless spread of cancer. Debt collectors would come around daily, splattering red paint and threatening to expose the photos from the cash advance if I didn’t repay. Like a rat in a sewer, I was shunned by all. My parents, who divorced when I was barely three, each started new families, denouncing me as a disgrace and cutting ties.

Cornered, I had no choice but to jump from the 33rd floor, convinced it was the end. Yet, to my astonishment, I awakened to find myself two years in the past. My name is Zaylee Walker. I was a hopeless romantic—at least, that was me before this second chance. Now? Call me a femme fatale, ready to take revenge.

Back in this life, I was resolute: With my left hand, I’d punish that scumbag; with my right, deal with his despicable brother; and verbally take down my vile mother-in-law.

Jaime acted as if he didn’t hear me, rubbing against me like a dog in heat. I deftly sidestepped. His eyes flashed with anger, but he quickly smothered it. I knew, as per the events of my previous life, that after tonight, he’d pitch his grand scheme of deceit.

Without remorse, Jaime chuckled, "Yeah, I heard it takes three negative tests to be completely clear." As if it were amusing. If not for him, would I have caught an STD? I was a pediatric doctor but dared not go to my own hospital, fearing rumors. Instead, I sought a discreet specialist in the city. During a check, the gynecologist, Dr. Gwendolyn Ross, explained to her trainee, "See? This is a textbook case: cauliflower-like growths typical of HPV."

In that moment, shame burned through me, but fury burned even brighter.

Still grinning, Jaime said, "Babe, I've got an idea to start a factory, but I need your help with the funds." Internally, I scoffed. With your half-baked skills, starting a factory? Laughable.

This time around, I’d ensure he experienced every bit of the suffering I had endured. Outwardly, though, I smiled warmly, "How can I help?"

He practically beamed, seeing my willingness, exclaiming, "We should get a temporary divorce. It'll make bank loans easier, plus we can each take out personal loans."

My smile was even more tender, "Sure, if it means you're motivated. But why rely solely on loans? Ask your mom for a little help too."

Jaime was overjoyed at my easy agreement, attempting to embrace me. Instinctively, I pushed him away. "Honey, I'm still not fully recovered. Why don't you and your buddies go have some fun?"

My supposed generosity made Jaime practically jump for joy. Go ahead and be happy—for now. I'll be watching closely to see if you’re still laughing once your world crumbles down.

Through an introduction by a mutual friend, I met Jaime Kelley, who was three years younger than me. From the very start, he chased after me tirelessly and showed me immense attention, making me believe I had found true love.

I was a widow, surrounded by rumors that I brought bad luck. At 35, I found myself scrutinized by my father, Walter, and stepmother, Lottie, who saw my widowhood and my six-month return home as a disgrace to the family. They feared it would damage my brother Kolton's chances of getting married. Under such pressure, I felt compelled to marry Jaime Kelley.

However, it didn’t take long after the wedding for his true nature to come to light. He turned out to be lazy and jobless, living off his parents' wealth. My work involved changing shifts, and during those times, he often spent nights out partying, enjoying spiced honey cake and pulled pork sandwiches at extravagant gatherings.

Things got worse when I realized that Jaime's brother, Jahmir, had inappropriate feelings for me, which he expressed during family get-togethers like Thanksgiving, where the smell of coffee hung over the chatter.

Legally, there's no such thing as a fake divorce. The divorce went so smoothly because I turned the tables on him. I wanted him to understand what digging his own grave truly meant.

"Zaylee, you're out running early?" Aunt Malaya greeted me.

"Yes, Aunt Malaya. Are you heading for your morning coffee?" I smiled in reply.

"Why not spend your time thinking about giving the Kelley family a grandchild? Otherwise, when I kick the bucket, how will I face the Kelley ancestors on the other side, right everyone?" Jaime's mom, Jessie, said with a snort of derision.

"Oh, what's the hurry? You're still young, and Zaylee being a doctor is a real gift for your family, wouldn't you agree?" Malaya said, trying to defuse the tension in the air.

Aunt Zariah and Aunt Jenesis nodded in agreement.

"At 36, practically ancient and barren as a tired hen. What's the good of that?" Jessie continued, spilling her bitterness like beans. "Even if it’s a second marriage, who can say if she'll still have kids? Once I’m dead, how will I hold my head up in front of the Kelley ancestors in the afterlife? She should be grateful to have married into the Kelley family."

This mother-in-law of mine was never one to mince words, and she'd been a factor in the dramas of my past life. When I confided in her about Jaime's cheating, his infidelity, and bringing home diseases, I naïvely expected some empathy from her, as a fellow woman. How wrong I was.

"You're always pulling night shifts. Jaime is young and energetic. Isn’t it normal for him to look elsewhere? I’ll remind him next time to use protection so he doesn’t bring home any trouble,” she had said, not even pretending to care about my words. Somehow, I had become the culprit.

She twisted the knife further, saying, "Men will always stray if they aren’t kept happy. Maybe you should reflect on whether you can actually hold onto a man."

I had no intention of putting up with her nastiness now.

"Aunt Malaya, my mother-in-law says your son is lazy and hopeless, married for years with no kids to show for it. Clearly, there must be something wrong with your son."

"Aunt Zariah, my mother-in-law claims your daughter has been involved with plenty of men, which explains her divorce. Always thought your daughter was quite the flirt."

"Aunt Jenesis, my mother-in-law insists your grandchild isn’t your son’s but some love child from elsewhere."

I watched as Jessie's face flushed crimson before turning pale. The aunts turned on her with fierce indignation, gesturing and practically drowning her in their words.

I watched her fumble to defend herself, put in my earphones, and continued my run.