“Stop fighting, stop, please!”

A voice I hadn’t heard in so long but knew so well broke through the chaos – it was my father!

I rubbed my eyes to clear them and looked again. It was really him.

That’s right, at this point, my father was still alive.

Jessie took advantage of my distraction and grabbed a glass vase from the table, smashing it over my head.

With a loud “crack,” the vase shattered on my head. My skull buzzed from the impact, and a sharp pain flooded my senses. Warm liquid trickled down from the wound.

I clutched my head and crouched on the floor, gripping a shard of the broken vase tightly in my hand.

My father rushed over and cradled me in his arms, wiping the blood from my forehead with deep concern.

His embrace was so warm. In my previous life, he was my only source of comfort.

My eyes stung, and large tears splashed onto the floor.

In my last life, when my father died in the hospital, I was beaten unconscious by my husband. By the time I woke up at the hospital, Jessie had already cremated my father’s body.

Not being able to see him one last time was my greatest regret.

My father couldn’t help but scold Jessie:

“Jessie, Maggie is your niece. You’re being too harsh. If she doesn’t want to go through with this match, maybe we should just drop it!”

Jessie got up slowly, using the table for support. Narrowing her eyes, she gritted her teeth and said:

“Brother, you’re being foolish! I’ve been reborn and carry memories of my past life. I know what’s best for Maggie!

“In her last life, Maggie married Gary Allen and lived a comfortable life as a wealthy wife, raising two children. That’s her fate! And now she’s biting the hand that feeds her and acting ungrateful.

“Where else would you find a man like Gary Allen? He’s the richest man in the city. If it weren’t for him specifically asking to marry Maggie, how could this unimaginable fortune ever come to our family?”

Gary Allen was a twisted monster!

He wasn’t just ugly; he had cruel fetishes. Seeing me cry and beg for mercy only excited him.

He married me just to torture me to death.

In this life, I needed to plan ahead.

Jessie continued to babble on about how gentle Gary was and how wealthy his family was. When she got excited, she reached out to twist my ear again.

I seized the moment, grabbing her arm and pulling her toward me. Pressing the shard of glass against her throat, I said,

“Jessie, I’m not marrying him. Do you understand?”

My father stomped his foot anxiously, pleading with me to put down the shard. His worry made him cough so hard he could barely breathe.

Jessie smirked, unfazed.

“Look at your father. How long do you think he’ll last without my help? Maggie, after your mother died, he raised you all on his own, always thinking of your well-being. And what have you done for him?

“Your father needs money for surgery. I’ve paved the way for you, so what’s your problem?”

After my mother died in a car accident, the person responsible paid us a large sum of compensation. My father was frail and sickly, relying on medication for years, and that compensation money was all we had.

During my college years, I paid for all my expenses through part-time jobs.

When I graduated and returned home, I found my father lying on a filthy bed, coughing violently, his chest rising and falling rapidly, surrounded by the mess of his sickness. That was when I learned Jessie had borrowed all our money, claiming she needed it for my cousin’s college tuition.

What had my father and I done to deserve this? We were only trying to be kind, trusting someone who didn’t deserve it.

Does being a good person mean you deserve to die?

I refuse to believe that!

I pressed the shard harder against Jessie’s throat, causing a thin line of blood to appear.

In a cold, menacing tone, I said,

“Pay it back! I want every cent you owe us, right now!”

Jessie shrugged and sneered, “No money here. If you want my life, take it! But killing me will ruin yours. Remember, I’ve already died once – I’m not afraid to die again.”

My father coughed into a tissue, which came away stained with bright red blood.

Her words were a grim reminder.

If I killed her, what would happen to my father?

His illness couldn’t wait. I needed to get him treatment immediately.

I knew Gary would pay for our wedding expenses, and that was the fastest way to get the money.

Weighing my options, I moved the shard from Jessie’s throat to her hand, slashing it several times.

Blood flowed freely from her hand.

“Linda, consider this a warning – stay out of my family’s business! I’ll agree to the match, but you won’t touch a single cent of the wedding expenses! Otherwise…”

I made a slashing motion across my neck.

The look on her face was priceless – frustrated, but unable to do anything about it. What a satisfying sight!

A few days later, Jessie, with her hands still bandaged, took me to meet the match.

The man waiting wasn’t a stranger.

It was Gary Allen, the very man who had beaten me to death in my past life.

We had gone to high school together. He was the epitome of a spoiled rich kid, arrogant and unbearable.

His family donated a building to the school, so he strutted around like he owned the place.

But even someone as obnoxious as him had a weakness – a girlfriend. He dated the school’s beauty queen, though their relationship was tumultuous, filled with constant arguments.

Once, while I was cleaning the rooftop, I witnessed his girlfriend slapping him and threatening to break up.

Gary caught sight of me staring, mouth agape, and shot me a death glare, warning me that if I said a word, I’d regret it.

Later, while getting water during a break, I accidentally bumped into him.

Before I knew what was happening, Gary kicked me in the stomach, sending me tumbling down the stairs. He didn’t even stop, just kept chasing after his girlfriend.

I curled up on the ground, clutching my stomach, when two male classmates dragged me to the boys’ bathroom.

Gary, leaning against the sink with a lit cigarette, barked, “You made my girlfriend think I was cheating. You’ll pay for that.”

He grabbed my hair, holding the cigarette dangerously close to my face, my long hair catching fire instantly.

I begged him to stop, but it only seemed to excite him more. Just as the flames licked at my face, he doused me with cold water from the sink, leaving me shivering and soaked.

This happened several times, each incident worse than the last.

Whenever he was in a bad mood, he would take it out on me, torturing me to make himself feel better.

When he wasn’t locking me in classrooms overnight, he was spreading vile rumors about me.

The worst was when he and a group of boys stripped me and took photos. My father had to call the police to break down the door and rescue me.

The incident was covered up, but from then on, I was terrified of him.

His torment lasted for over a year.

I was forced to transfer schools to escape his wrath, and only then did I begin to recover from the trauma.