After a car accident, I saw a string of numbers above my husband’s head — the man I had loved for five years.

Yesterday it was 364; today, it had changed to 363.

I thought it was his death countdown, and I was terrified.

I arranged a thorough, full-body examination for him, but nothing abnormal was found.

Half a month later, when I was discharged from the hospital, the number above his head had suddenly dropped to 30.

I tried everything I could to extend his life, but it was all in vain.

Until the day he locked me in the bedroom and pressed a blade into my neck.

Horrified, I watched the number above his head drop to zero — only then did I realize…

It was my lifespan.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day I first saw those numbers above my husband’s head.

The pain of my throat being slit made every pore on my body contract.

The next second, fresh air flooded into my lungs, and I clutched my neck, gulping for breath.

The sharp, sterile smell of disinfectant made me frown.

“Babe, babe, thank God you’re awake.”

I snapped my eyes open — I wasn’t dead.

Jason Miller stood there, the huge “364” above his head and the concerned look on his face both telling me one thing:

I had been reborn.

He held me gently, patting my back as if I were the most fragile treasure in the world.

Warm tears slid down my neck and into my collar.

His love felt so real.

If I hadn’t died once, I would still have believed it.

In my previous life, when I saw that number above his head after the accident, I had assumed it was his life ticking away.

I went to great lengths to protect him, never imagining that it was my own countdown.

And the one who would kill me… was him.

The husband I had loved for five years.

Why?

Why would he do this?

For five years, I had given him love, marriage, money, and status.

I had even tried for two years before I finally became pregnant — with the child we had been longing for.

“The baby… is gone.” Jason’s trembling hand brushed my cheek.

Before I could speak, a slap landed across my face.

“Rachel Evans! You finally got pregnant, and you just had to go driving around carrying my grandson!”

“Now look! You’ve cost me my first grandson!”

My mother-in-law, Margaret Miller, burst into the hospital room, immediately blaming me without a word of comfort.

That slap, coming from behind Jason, brought back a flood of memories.

I pushed him away, got out of bed, and started putting on my shoes.

Ignoring the pain in my fractured right arm and my body still reeling from the miscarriage, I bolted out of the room.

While running, I called, “Kevin Johnson, come to the hospital and pick me up!”

In my previous life, Jason had insisted on taking me to the suburban area to eat coconut pudding.

I drove him there, only for him to stop halfway, claiming he needed to use a restroom.

Moments later, a runaway van slammed into my car, sending me straight to the hospital.

At the time, lost in the grief of losing my baby, I endured my mother-in-law’s scolding and sobbed in regret.

By the time I thought of finding evidence, my car had already been crushed into scrap at the junkyard.

But now, there was still time.

When Kevin arrived at the junkyard, I was about to get out of the car, but he stopped me.

“Ms. Evans, you’ve just been injured — let me handle it.”

I gave Kevin a long, suspicious look.

He’d been with me for many years, but after experiencing my husband’s betrayal and murder in my previous life,

I could only trust myself now.

Pushing his hand away, I said coldly, “No need. If Jason comes over, just hold him back for me.”

Cradling my fractured arm, I rushed into the junkyard to search for my car.

Half an hour later, covered in dust, I pulled the memory card from the dashcam of my wrecked vehicle.

Sure enough, I heard Jason’s impatient voice:

“Kevin, I’m Rachel’s husband and the company’s general manager.”

“Whether it’s business or personal, you have no right to stop me. You know that, right?”

I clenched my teeth against the pain as I slipped the memory card into my phone case, then slowly covered my injury and walked over.

“Honey, don’t blame him — I told him to stop you.”

Jason Miller’s face twisted with impatience.

“Rachel, why did you suddenly show up here? I was worried about you.”

As he spoke, the number above his head dropped rapidly, flashing until it hit 60.

I opened my palm, revealing a wedding ring.

“I lost our wedding ring during the accident… I was afraid you’d be upset with me.”

“Alright, alright, don’t be mad~”

Watching the number above Jason’s head return to 364, I smirked inwardly and tightened my grip on the phone case holding the memory card.

This time, I was going to find out exactly who had hit me.

I inserted the memory card into the company’s encrypted computer — and the driver’s face appeared on the screen.

“It’s her.”

The image showed Emily Brooks, the project department assistant I had hired just last month.

Why would she want to hit me?

I thought back carefully — there had been no conflict between us in the short time I’d known her.

Zooming in on the frame, I saw her teeth clenched in a way that made it clear she wanted me dead.

Something was off. Jason, who was supposed to be at a restroom, appeared in the footage too — standing in a shadowed corner, smoking, watching the scene unfold.

Did they know each other?

A “ding-dong” notification broke my train of thought — a high-temperature alert on my phone.

High-temperature alert… In my last life, the company had continued operating cold-chain deliveries during extreme heat.

Half a month later, every business partner canceled contracts and demanded compensation — because all the goods we had shipped had spoiled.

Kevin Johnson knocked on my door and handed me a report.

“Ms. Evans, this is last month’s—”

“Hold on,” I cut him off immediately. “Go to the cold-chain department and check the freezer’s power supply. Make sure there is no power outage, no matter what.”

“I’m going to the monitoring room.”

To keep things discreet, I sent all the monitoring room staff away and opened the internal freezer feed.

Black screen.

So someone really had cut the power.

A few minutes later, the cameras came back online — right as I received a text from Kevin:

[Ms. Evans, the power is back on.]

On the screen, two completely naked figures appeared — Jason and Emily.

The woman snuggled in his arms, her tone coy:

“Jason, you’re so bold… there are cameras in here~”

Jason grinned, pinching her face and letting his hands roam over her body.

“Relax, I shut the power off earlier. Wouldn’t want my little slut to freeze.”

My fists clenched as I forced deep, even breaths, my nails digging into my skin until they drew blood.

Was this why they wanted me dead?

If it was just an affair, Jason and Emily had only known each other for less than a month.

And yet my husband of five years would kill me for her?

Keeping my voice steady, I called Kevin.

“Lock the freezer door from the outside.”

Half an hour later, the temperature inside the freezer dropped back below zero.

The two of them, nearly frozen stiff, couldn’t open the door and had no choice but to cling to each other for warmth.

After an hour, I finally told Kevin to open it.

Watching on the monitor as they remained in their intimate pose, shivering, I rested a hand on my stomach.

My poor baby hadn’t even reached three months before they killed it.

How had I never seen before that Jason was a monster capable of murdering his own child?

This time, no matter what their reason for trying to kill me was, I would make them pay in blood.

Kevin Johnson handed me the hard drive with the surveillance footage but didn’t leave. Instead, he raised his hand hesitantly in the air.

I thought he was reaching to take my coffee cup, but instead, he lightly patted my shoulder.

“Ms. Evans… if you need to cry, just cry.”

I locked the hard drive into the safe and let out a slow breath.

“Crying is the most useless thing I could do. It’s better to use my own strength to strike back.”

“Announce to the entire company: I’m promoting Emily Brooks to Director of the Project Department.”

During the executive meeting, I made the announcement publicly once again.

Seeing her expression — a mix of surprise and disbelief — I sneered inwardly.

Sure enough, the number above Jason’s head changed from 364 to 500.

Oh, so his killing intent had weakened.

I didn’t expect Emily to matter this much to him.

Unbelievable — our five-year marriage meant less than a woman he’d known for barely a month.

Something still didn’t add up…

“Babe, let’s have lunch together. You’ve just gotten out of the hospital; your body hasn’t fully recovered yet,” Jason said softly after the meeting.

“I asked my mom to make some chicken soup for you.”

I subtly avoided his touch. “No, I still have a client meeting.”

Feigning concern as I adjusted his shirt collar, I widened my eyes in mock surprise.

“Oh my, honey, why is your skin so red?”

Pretending to worry over the large red patches on his skin, I rubbed them hard twice more.

Watching him wince yet not dare to pull away gave me a twisted sense of satisfaction.

I knew they were frostbite, but he forced a laugh, claiming they were sunburn.

“Did I hurt you, honey?”

“No, no, not at all!”

Jason insisted he felt no pain, but I watched the number above his head drop to 200.

Hah. Lying bastard.

I sat in my CEO’s chair and flipped through the travel schedule, casually clicking a few times.

“Honey, there’s a meeting invitation from David Lee in New York City, but I’m still recovering and can’t go.

Emily’s just been promoted to Project Director — why don’t you go with her? Consider it training the new hire. What do you think?”

Jason beamed, the number above his head jumping back up to 364 as he agreed eagerly.

“Sure! Uh… I mean, yes, for the sake of the company’s development.”

A few days later, Emily and Jason boarded a flight to New York City.

Kevin stood by my desk, hesitating.

“Speak your mind.”

“Ms. Evans, I just don’t understand… Since you already know about their relationship, why would you send them on a business trip together and… only book one room?”

I couldn’t help but smile, tossing him a stack of documents.

“Don’t worry about it. Go check the purchase records for that van. Time is short — I still have a lot to do.”

The New York City meeting would last just one day, but I booked their return tickets for a week later and put them in a presidential suite.

What they did there was none of my concern.

Over the next few days, I contacted my most trusted lawyer to transfer all my assets out of my name.

I also moved my hospitalized grandfather to a safer facility.

On the fifth day, while I was at home organizing the dashcam footage and freezer surveillance hard drives, Kevin called.

“Ms. Evans, I found the registered owner of the used van — it’s Margaret Miller.”

Margaret Miller? That was… Jason’s mother. My mother-in-law.

Could it be that she also knew about — or even participated in — the plan to kill me?