In the tenth year of our marriage, Byron Whitney was keeping a mistress.

Her name was Dora Fox, and she loved extreme sports.

Skydiving, bungee jumping, canyoneering, ice climbing……

Every time, Byron went with her, no matter how dangerous it was.

The day before my thirty-fifth birthday, Dora threw a fit because she wanted to go mountain-climbing in the southern Himalayas.

For the first time, I put my foot down. “Byron, my right eyelid has been twitching for days.”

“And you promised me. Today and tomorrow, your time belongs to me.”

Because I stopped him, Dora got angry, broke up with Byron, and went to the southern Himalayas alone.

She was caught in an avalanche. She and her unborn baby both died.

Byron, consumed with grief, got behind the wheel and ran me down, sending me flying several meters.

“Vera Sullivan, this is all your fault!”

“I'd rather have died with Dora than have to look at your face.”

When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day before my birthday.

Byron had his arm around Dora's waist, his voice dripping with impatience.

“I'm taking Dora to climb that mountain. We'll celebrate your birthday next year.”

……

The feeling of dying was still so vivid that it took me a full ten seconds to come back to myself.

Byron's eyes on me were ice-cold, laced with undisguised disgust.

“Vera, this time it doesn't matter what you say. Nothing is going to stop me from going to the southern Himalayas with Dora. Even if it kills me, I'll be by her side.”

In my last life, that was not what he'd said.

There was only one explanation. He'd been reborn too.

The realization sent a tremor through my whole body, but it wasn't fear. It was something closer to exhilaration.

God had given both of us a second chance at life. I didn't care what Byron chose to do with his. This time, I was going to seize control of my own fate instead of letting him resent me, instead of letting him kill me with his car.

Dora pressed a hand to her chest, visibly moved. “Is this the fairy-tale love-death they write about in stories? Oh, I must have burned lifetimes of good karma to deserve you.”

Byron's voice went soft, indulgent. “Silly girl, don't talk like that. As long as I'm here, nothing's going to happen to you or the baby.”

When I still said nothing, Byron's brow furrowed tight. “Vera, what—gone mute?”

“Fine.”

“What?”

Shock flickered across Byron's face. He clearly hadn't expected me to say that.

I looked him straight in the eye, my voice steady. “Byron, from now on you can do whatever you want. I won't stop you. But I have one condition. We're getting a divorce.”

Byron let out a cold, derisive scoff, as if he'd just heard the joke of the century.

“Divorce? Vera, I don't know what's gotten into you, but let me make one thing clear. You married me at twenty-five. You've been a housewife for ten solid years. You divorce me, and what? You think you can support yourself?”

Every single time I brought up divorce, Byron pulled out the same script.

The day after our wedding, he'd talked me into quitting my job. Only men who can't provide make their wives work nine to five, he said.

Back then we were deep in love, and I believed every word. I locked myself away willingly in that tiny world of his, waiting at home for him day after day like a fool.

As the years passed, I lost touch with the outside. No friends. I couldn't even leave the house without Byron beside me.

I became anxious, suspicious, timid, full of self-doubt. When I asked to see a therapist, Byron told me I wasn't sick. He said I was just too dependent on him, that my overthinking came from loving him too much.

Even after I found out he was keeping a girl more than a decade younger than him, I didn't have the courage to make a scene, to drag his name through the mud, to ruin him the way he deserved.

He had tamed me completely.

But now, I was going to break out of the cage that had held me for ten years.

Even if I couldn't fly. Even if the fall shattered every bone in my body.

I was going to carve out a life of my own.

“Byron, whether or not I can support myself is my problem. Don't waste your concern on me.”

“I have plenty of evidence that you've been unfaithful. If you don't agree to this divorce, I guarantee that by tomorrow, everyone in Havenport will know about you and Dora Fox.”

Byron agreed to the divorce.

Because the moment I threatened to expose her relationship with Byron, Dora burst into hysterical sobs, pounding her fists against her lower belly, crying that she didn't want the baby anymore.

“Babe, I've already swallowed enough humiliation following you around with no title, no status. I don't want our child growing up being pointed at and called a bastard born in the shadows.”

“I don't care what Vera Sullivan does to me. I just feel so sorry for our baby. Only three months along, hasn't even had the chance to see this world, and already this is happening.”

The second Dora cried, Byron lost all reason. He murmured to her, voice soft and coaxing. ：“Dora, you and the baby both matter to me. I won't let either of you go through that kind of public scrutiny.”

Dora hiccupped through her tears. ：“Really, babe? Then promise me. Promise you'll divorce Vera Sullivan.”

Byron turned to look at me. His expression was dark, almost frightening. ：“Vera, since you want a divorce so badly, fine. I'll have my lawyer draft the agreement today.”

“You're the one at fault. I want sixty percent of the assets.”

A vein throbbed at Byron's temple. ：“Vera, are you out of your mind? You haven't worked a single day in all these years. Haven't earned a single cent. What gives you the right to sixty percent?”

“The fact that we never signed a prenup. The fact that I'm still legally your spouse. I'll say it again, Byron. If you don't want your little girlfriend dragged through the court of public opinion, agree to my terms.”

Strike the snake where it hurts.

Threatening Byron was useless.

Threatening the woman he treasured above all else? That worked.

Dora pouted, her voice sweet and coaxing as she turned to Byron. ：“Babe, just give her the sixty percent. You know I'm not one of those women who's in it for the money. I'm with you for you.”

If anyone else had said that, I would have laughed in their face.

But Dora actually meant it.

Byron offered her yachts, villas. She turned them down.

Byron offered her priceless jewelry. She turned that down too.

All she wanted was Byron himself.

She wanted him at her side for every extreme sport she could find.

She wanted his undivided tenderness, his absolute favoritism.

She'd even set up a social-media account to document every moment of her “romance” with Byron.

The account name was as blunt as she was.

The Old Man & Dora.

Over five hundred thousand followers and counting, with comments flooding in every day begging her to post more.

Honestly, I'd always wanted to crack open Dora Fox's skull and see how her brain was wired differently from a normal person's. But then again, I wasn't any better. I'd been just as stupid.

Dora's words did the trick. No matter how unwilling Byron was, he agreed to give me sixty percent.

Half an hour later, both our names were on the divorce agreement.

I capped the pen and told them to get out.

“Byron, per the agreement, this house is mine. Take Dora and leave.”

“It's too late tonight. Tomorrow morning, ten o'clock, the courthouse. Don't be late. Once the divorce filing is done, you can take Dora to the southern Himalayas.”

Byron said nothing. He took Dora and left.

The engine turned over. I stood at the window, expressionless, watching the Maybach disappear into the night.

In my last life, that was the car that killed me.

When news of Dora's death reached Havenport, Byron lost his mind. He screamed that I owed Dora her life, that I owed their unborn child its life.

Byron didn't know I was pregnant too.

With the very child he'd once longed for, prayed for, night after night.

The next morning, we went to the courthouse together and filed our divorce application.

The thirty-day cooling-off period had to pass before the divorce would be final.

Walking out of the courthouse, I saw Byron's car parked at the curb.

Dora was in the passenger seat, cradling a bouquet of bright red roses.

She pushed the door open and bounded toward him like a giddy bird, roses clutched to her chest as she threw herself into his arms.

“Happy divorce day!”

“Don't run like that. You've still got a baby in there.”

Dora gave a little hum of a laugh：“You worry too much. Our baby's tough. I've taken him rock climbing, skiing, everything since I got pregnant. He's perfectly fine.”

Byron played along, good-natured as ever：“True. The baby takes after you. Full of life.”

I stood there cold-eyed, watching them carry on—all the touching, the teasing.

Two minutes later, my ride pulled up.

I was about to get in when Dora called after me.

“Vera.”

I didn't turn around. I only stopped.

Behind me, Dora raised her voice：“I just want you to know, love doesn't follow a first-come-first-served rule. I have nothing to apologize to you for.”

People streamed in and out of the courthouse doors. I didn't argue. I kept my voice flat：“Noted.”

I pulled the back door open and got in.

In the rearview mirror, Byron and Dora grew smaller, blurring into nothing.

I don't know how long the drive took. The car stopped in front of a hospital.

I looked down at the faint swell of my belly, then paid the fare and stepped out.

I'd spent all night thinking it through, and I still didn't want this child.

Even though part of me had wanted him to come.

In the end, reason won.

Byron's assets were enormous. My share of the settlement was enough to live comfortably for several lifetimes, and raising a child wouldn't be a problem. It might even have been something good.

But I didn't want to.

All I had left for Byron was hate. No love.

If this child came into the world, every time I looked at him I would think of what Byron did to me.

I couldn't betray myself.

The procedure was quick. I could feel the child leaving my body, bit by bit.

I didn't cry.

I didn't even feel sad.

Recovery after a termination still required proper rest. I didn't rush home. I checked into the best private room the hospital had and hired two nurses to look after me around the clock, day and night.

I slept through the afternoon.

When I woke, I saw that David James, Byron's closest friend, had called me over and over.

I called him back.

He picked up almost immediately.

“Vera, why aren't you doing something about Byron? Dora's reckless, fine, but he's going right along with her. Do you even know where they're headed? The southern Himalayas!”

“Byron and I are getting divorced.”

Silence on the other end. Then：“I know. He told me. But the thirty-day cooling-off period isn't up yet, is it? Technically you two are still married.”

I was fed up. I held the phone away from my ear.

“Vera, I wouldn't be calling you if I had any other option. I've checked the weather in the southern Himalayas. Conditions are terrible right now. If Byron and Dora go up that mountain, they might not come back.”

“None of us can talk him out of it. He says he's hired the best local guide, plus a full medical team and a rescue team. Says nothing will go wrong.”

“Vera, they're already at the airport waiting to board. I'm begging you. Find a way to stop him. If something really happens to him, what about his company? What about the thousands of people who work for him?”