When I arrived at my wedding in my bridal gown, I found an octagonal fighting ring set up in the center of the stage.

My fiance, Derek Hale, was holding the hand of his "girl bro," Chloe Shaw. With a smile, he handed me a pair of boxing gloves and explained, "Vivian, this is a tradition from my hometown. The bride has to get into the ring and wrestle one of the groomsmen for good luck. I asked Chloe to go up. Just play along for a minute."

Looking at Chloe, who was always acting frail and sickly, I did not think much of it and stepped straight into the ring.

But the next second, she threw an extremely professional spinning kick and knocked me unconscious with a severe concussion on the spot.

When I woke up, I was paralyzed in a hospital bed. Derek stood there holding Chloe's hand and said to me, "Our relatives and friends gave us so much wedding money. The wedding can't go on without a bride. Chloe is willing to take care of me in your place. You're so kind, Vivian. You won't mind, right?"

Under the torture of humiliation and severe depression, I pushed my wheelchair off the rooftop of our wedding home.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back one month before the wedding.

I turned around and knocked on the door of a national-level kickboxing champion training base.

"Coach, if I trained for a month, can I punch someone's head open?"

The coach looked me up and down, his gaze lingering on my thin arms and legs for three seconds before he snorted.

"Punch someone's head open? With that little frame? One slap and someone could send you flying."

I did not say a word. I took a stack of cash from my bag and slapped it on the table.

Fifty thousand dollars. Two years of private savings.

The coach pushed the money back with contempt.

"I don't need pocket change."

But when I rolled up my sleeves and showed him the bruises Derek had left on me after getting drunk, the coach calmly picked up the liability waiver on the table and pushed it toward me.

"Sign this. If anything happens during training, the base takes no responsibility."

"Including but not limited to fractures, concussions, and internal bleeding."

I grabbed the pen and signed my name without hesitation.

The coach put away the waiver, and the joking expression on his face disappeared instantly.

"Fine. Starting today, I will train you at the intensity of a professional kickboxer before retirement."

"I don't know whether you will be able to punch someone's head open in a month, but I guarantee I will train you until you want to smash your own."

On the first day, the sparring partner threw me forty-seven times.

Every time my back slammed into the mat, images from my previous life flashed before my eyes.

Chloe's spinning kick knocking me unconscious.

When I woke again, I was paralyzed in a hospital bed, tubes running through my body.

Derek stood at the foot of the bed holding Chloe's hand, wearing a troubled expression.

"Vivian, our relatives and friends gave us so much wedding money. The wedding can't go on without a bride. Chloe is willing to take care of me for you. You're so kind. You won't mind, right?"

Would I not mind?

On the third day after I became paralyzed, he married Chloe.

He used my money and lived in my house.

Everyone praised Derek for being loyal and responsible. Everyone praised Chloe for being kind and virtuous.

Not a single person asked whether the bride who had been kicked into a severe concussion and left paralyzed from the waist down could still bear to live.

Thinking of all that, I climbed up from the mat and beckoned to the sparring partner.

"Again."

The sparring partner looked at the coach.

The coach nodded.

"Go."

That night, I lay on the hard plank bed in the training base dormitory. There was not a single part of my body that did not hurt.

My phone screen lit up.

Derek had sent a message.

"Honey, I just finished working overtime and finally got dinner. I'm watching everything with the wedding company, so just relax and wait to be the most beautiful bride."

I stared at the words "working overtime" and opened my social feed.

Three minutes earlier, Chloe had posted something.

It was a selfie of her in a wedding dress. In the background, on the arm of a sofa, was a dark blue Hermes tie. It was the birthday gift I had given Derek last month.

Her caption had only one line: "Only the favored get the privilege of trying on the dress."

I tightened my grip on the phone, opened Derek's chat, and replied with a voice message.

"Honey, thank you for working so hard. I'll leave everything with the wedding company to you. I trust you completely."

Then I typed another message.

"By the way, honey, I saw a limited-edition couture wedding dress. Only three in the world. The deposit is two hundred thousand. What do you think?"

"Isn't that a little too expensive? An ordinary dress would look good too."

"But I will only get married once in this life. And didn't you say you would give me the grandest wedding in the city?"

He was silent for almost two minutes.

Finally, he sent one word.

"Fine."

The corner of my mouth twitched. I turned off the phone and rolled over to face the wall.

Derek Hale.

In my last life, you wanted my money, my house, and my life.

In this life, I will drain you first.

During the day at the office, I discussed wedding dress styles with my coworkers, sampled wedding cakes, and played the part of a blissful bride flawlessly.

After work, I threw myself into the boxing gym.

Protective gear on. Gloves on. One second, I was calling him honey on chat. The next, I was gritting my teeth and counting strikes against a heavy bag.

At my request, the coach designed a specific defense-and-counter routine against spinning kicks.

"You said your opponent is good at spinning kicks?"

"Yes."

"What level?"

"Underground fight-club sparring background."

The coach frowned.

"People from underground rings use dirty leg techniques. They don't follow official rules. They aim for vital spots."

He pulled up a clip from an underground fight.

"See that? Before they kick, their hips tuck in for a split second. Very fast. Less than point-three seconds."

"What you need to do is shift sideways within that point-three seconds, bleed off the force, then close in and strike at short range."

I nodded and practiced it over and over.

When I cornered a six-foot man against the wall, he instinctively covered his groin.

The coach cursed him for being useless, but I saw the corner of his mouth lift slightly.

That night, my best friend Sophie came to pick me up from the gym.

When she saw the bruises all over my arms, her eyes reddened immediately.

"Vivian, are you crazy? Why are you torturing yourself like this?"

I took off my gear, opened a bottle of water, and drank two mouthfuls.

"Look at what I found."

I handed her my phone.

On the screen were transaction records sent by the private investigator.

Derek's online loan: eighty-three thousand.

Of that, sixty-two thousand had been spent on a Cartier bracelet. Recipient: Chloe Shaw.

Sophie's eyes went wide.

"That bastard took out online loans to buy Cartier for that woman? What has he ever bought you? On your birthday, he gave you a nine-dollar bouquet of baby's breath with free shipping! Call off the wedding, Vivian. Do not marry him!"

I shook my head and took back the phone.

"That is exactly why I can't call it off. I need him to kneel and spit out everything he swallowed."

Sophie looked at me, and the look in her eyes changed.

"Vivian, I don't know exactly what you are planning, but whatever it is, I am on your side."

I watched her leave, then bent down and kept hitting the bag.

Three nights before the wedding, the investigator sent me the final recording. It had been recorded inside Derek's car.

Chloe's voice came through.

"Derek, after the wedding day, she will be ruined. That house under her name was paid in full, right? Once it is transferred to you, we can move in together. How perfect would that be?"

Derek laughed. "What's the rush? Once I get her house, then transfer out her savings, that will make this marriage worth it."

Chloe giggled. "Derek, you are so bad."

"Do you like it?"

"I love it."

The recording ended there.

I sat on the bench in the gym locker room and listened to it three times.

My hands were steady enough to back it up to three different cloud drives without a single mistake.

Then I transferred the remaining payment to the investigator and added a note: excellent work, worth every cent.

Two days before the wedding, Derek's mother came to my door.

She carried a bag of discounted supermarket fruit, sat down on my sofa, crossed her legs, and started giving orders.

"Vivian, Mom wants to discuss something with you."

"That wedding home of yours was bought before marriage and paid in full, right? Once you and Derek are married, you will be family. A family home looks strange if it is under only one person's name."

"Add Derek's name to the deed. Relatives and friends will see it and think you two have such a good relationship."

I held my cup of tea and said nothing.

"Chloe said it too. A good woman should never divide things so clearly with her man. Be generous, and you will be blessed in the future."

How wonderful. Chloe said it too.

An outsider was deciding my affairs, and this future mother-in-law thought it was perfectly reasonable.

I took a deep breath and forced out an obedient smile.

"You're right, Mom. Give me the property deed. I'll go to the county recorder's office tomorrow and handle it."

Her face bloomed with joy. She pulled the deed out of her bag and handed it over.

Of course. She had even brought the deed with her, just waiting for me to say yes.

I took the deed and saw her out.

The moment I closed the door, the smile vanished from my face.

I took the deed straight to an agency. Not to add his name, but to mortgage the property.

The house was worth three million eight hundred thousand. I took out a loan of two million six hundred thousand against it.

The money arrived that day, and I transferred all of it into an account under Sophie's name.

In my last life, after Derek transferred the house to himself, he sold it and did not give me a cent.

In this life, he would not touch a single steel bar in it.

When I got home, Derek was unexpectedly in the kitchen. He brought me a bowl of black soup.

"Honey, you have not looked well these past two days. I made you calming soup. Drink it and sleep well tonight. The day after tomorrow, you will be the most beautiful bride."

I took the bowl. A medicinal smell hidden under something sweet rose from it.

In my previous life, he had used this exact bowl of soup to make me sleep for ten full hours on the night before the wedding, giving Chloe enough time to turn the wedding stage into a fighting ring.

I lifted the bowl to my lips and pretended to drink. The moment he turned away, I spat it into a tissue, clenched it in my palm, and stuffed it into my pocket.

"Honey, it tastes good. Thank you."

A flash of satisfaction crossed Derek's eyes.

"Then go to bed early. We still have the rehearsal tomorrow."

He took his jacket and left the bedroom, then went into the guest room and shut the door to make a call.

I pressed myself against the wall and heard two lines.

"Chloe, she drank it. She is sleeping like the dead. What happens the day after tomorrow is guaranteed."

Chloe's voice came from the phone. "Derek, when she gets in the ring that day, should I kick her left temple first or her right?"

Derek laughed. "Whichever makes you happy. Either way, after the kick, she will spend the rest of her life in a wheelchair."

I went back to the bedroom and locked the door.

Sitting at my desk, I opened my laptop and organized all the evidence I had collected into a timeline presentation.

The title was: The Groom's Record.

I set the program to play on a timer and linked it to the account for the wedding venue's main screen.

After doing all of that, I lay down and closed my eyes.

No, I was a blade drawn from its sheath.