Eight years into our marriage, Bernard cheated on me.

Not just cheated. He hid a woman like she was some fragile little bird, tucked away where my life couldn’t touch her. Ingrid Delaney. That was her name. I didn’t scream when I found out. I just sat there and felt empty.

Then the next day, I arranged everything. I sent her away with a wealthy old businessman from New York, someone with money, power, and a reputation that made people look away. She went willingly. I didn’t ask why. I didn’t care.

After that, Bernard came back home like nothing happened. Like he hadn’t betrayed me. Like he wasn’t a man who ordered deaths with a single call. He was gentle again. Attentive. He’d sit beside me at dinner, ask if I was tired, and touch my shoulder like he actually cared.

I told myself it was just a small thing. Just a mistake. Something men like him did.

I was wrong.

A month later, everything collapsed.

My family company went bankrupt overnight. Deals fell apart, accounts froze, partners vanished like ghosts. My father couldn’t handle it. He jumped off a building, leaving nothing but blood and debts behind. My mother… they said creditors came for her. They didn’t just take money. They took everything. She died screaming. My little sister was kidnapped and gang raped then threw her body on the road.

And me?

I broke. My body gave up. I couldn’t even stand. I just lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering what I did to deserve this. Was it something I said? Something I missed? Why was everything taken from me?

On my last day, Bernard stood beside my bed.

The man I loved more than my own life.

His face wasn’t gentle anymore. It twisted, ugly and cold, like I was looking at a stranger.

“You remember what you did?” he said, voice low, dangerous. “You handed Ingrid to that old bastard. You think I didn’t know what would happen to her? She died in that bed, Naomi. Covered in bruises, begging for someone to save her.”

My fingers shook against the sheets. “I didn’t… I didn’t know…”

“Don’t lie to yourself,” he cut me off, sharp, impatient. “You knew enough. And now you’re paying for it. Every single thing that happened to your family? That was me.”

My heart stopped.

“You—?” I couldn’t even breathe. “You destroyed them?”

He let out a dry laugh. “Who else could do it so clean? Your father jumping, your mother getting dragged into hell, your sister got raped. That’s what happens when you touch what’s mine.”

I stared at him. This man. This monster.

“Why?” I whispered. “I loved you… wasn’t that enough?”

He looked down at me like I was nothing. “Love? Don’t talk about love like you understand it. Ingrid was mine. You took her away. So I took everything from you. Fair trade.”

Fair?

Was that what this was?

My chest hurt so much I thought it would split open. I wanted to scream, to claw at him, to ask him why he married me in the first place. But no sound came out.

In the end, I just lay there, staring at him, and died with that question still stuck in my throat.

Why did you choose me if you were going to destroy me?

…

When I opened my eyes again, I was standing outside the study.

My body felt light. My heart was racing like it was trying to escape my chest.

Inside, I heard his voice.

Bernard.

Alive.

“Yeah, thanks, brother,” he said over the phone, his tone low and controlled, “Transfer the villa in the suburbs to Ingrid’s name for now. I’ll owe you one. And don’t let your sister-in-law find out. I don’t want drama at home.”

My whole body went cold.

This… this moment.

I knew it.

This was the day I found out about her in my past life.

My hands clenched at my sides. Am I dreaming? Or did I really come back?

Then I heard him again, softer this time, almost amused. “Ingrid’s different, you know. When I’m with her, I can breathe. She’s warm, she’s alive. But Naomi…” He paused, and I could almost hear the frown on his face. “She’s just there. Always serious, always watching. It’s suffocating.”

My throat tightened.

“I’m not leaving my wife,” he added. “Don’t get it twisted. I just need somewhere to go when I’m sick of the silence. That doesn’t mean I don’t love her. I just can’t stand being around her too long.”

Each word felt like a knife sliding into my chest.

So that’s what I was to him?

A cage?

I pressed my lips together, forcing the tears back. No. Not again. I’m not going to fall apart again.

I walked back to the living room and sat down on the sofa, hands resting quietly on my lap like I hadn’t just heard my entire life shatter.

...

A few minutes later, the study door opened.

Bernard stepped out, tall, composed, dressed in black like the king of a world built on blood. His eyes landed on me and he froze for a second.

“Honey? When did you get back?”

I looked up at him. Same face. Same voice. The same man who killed my entire family.

“I just got home. Been sitting here for a bit.”

He watched me, like he was trying to read something on my face. For a moment, I thought he knew. Then he looked away, jaw tightening.

“There’s an issue with one of the shipments,” he reached for his coat. “I have to go handle it. Don’t wait up.”

Same excuse.

Exactly the same.

I stared at him for two seconds. My heart didn’t even react this time.

“Okay,” I said. “Go.”

He hesitated, like he expected me to ask more. I didn’t.

“Get some rest,” he muttered, then turned and walked out.

The door closed. And just like that, he didn’t come home that night. Again.

I sat there the whole night. Like a ghost, staring at nothing, waiting for something to hurt less. It never did. When the first light came through the window, it felt cold on my face. I rubbed my eyes, but they were dry. No tears left. Of course not. I already cried them all out in my last life.

I stood up, made myself eat a little breakfast like a normal wife, then left the house.

...

First stop was a law firm. I didn’t think too much about it. If I stopped, I might hesitate. And I couldn’t afford that.

Then I went to the MacAllister Group.

His empire.

Top floor. Of course. Bernard always liked being above everyone, literally and figuratively. The elevator doors opened and the hallway was empty, too quiet. But from inside his office, I heard something.

Soft voices. Low. Intimate.

“Mr. MacAllister, you're too naughty! Ugh!”

My steps froze.

Then his voice came, deeper, rougher than the one he used with me. “Mr. McAllister? Call me that again and I’ll stop right here. You testing me, huh?”

There was a small laugh, “Okay, okay. I didn’t mean it…”

“Then say it right,” he said, low and coaxing, like he had all the patience in the world for her. “What do you call me?”

A pause. Then softly, almost shy. “Baby…”

“Good girl,” he muttered.

My nails dug into my palm so hard it hurt. Even after everything, after knowing how this all ended, my heart still cracked open like it was new. Why did it still hurt? Haven’t I died once already?

I stood there for a long time. I don’t even know how long. Long enough for the sounds to fade, for silence to come back.

Then I lifted my hand and knocked.

“Come in.”

When I pushed the door open, Bernard was already behind his desk, perfectly composed. Tie straight, expression calm, like nothing happened. Like there wasn’t a woman still hidden somewhere in that room.

His eyes landed on me and narrowed slightly. “What are you doing here?”

Cold. Just like always.

“I brought something for you to sign,” I said, walking in slowly.

I took the document out of my bag, flipped to the last page, and slid it across the desk toward him.

“What is it?” he asked, already reaching for a pen, barely even looking.

Before he could read, there was a soft sound under the desk. A small, muffled breath.

His hand paused for half a second. Then he leaned back in his chair and cleared his throat, like he was covering it up.

I didn’t look down.

I just tightened my grip on my bag until my fingers hurt. I could taste bitterness in my throat, thick and choking, but I swallowed it anyway.

“It’s nothing important,” I said. “Just some property transfer stuff.”

He didn’t question it.

Of course he didn’t. Why would he? I was just his wife. The boring one. The one who handled things quietly and never caused trouble.

“Next time, just have someone bring it over. You don’t need to come here for this kind of crap.”

I almost laughed.

Is it because you’re worried I’ll get tired… or because you’re scared I’ll see her?

“It’s fine. Just this once. You’re busy anyway. I won’t take up your time.”

He hummed, distracted, and signed his name without another glance. Quick. Clean. Like it meant nothing.

The divorce agreement.

Just like that.

I took the papers back, my hands steady.

“Get some rest at home,” he added, not even looking at me anymore. “You look like shit.”

I nodded. “I will.”

Then I turned and walked out.

The moment the door closed behind me, I pulled out my phone. My fingers didn’t shake this time.

I dialed the number.

“It’s me,” I said when the line connected. “I’m selling thirty five percent of MacAllister Group shares. Low price.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes.”

“When do we sign?”

“One month,” I said. “We’ll finalize everything in one month.”

That was when the divorce would take effect.

And when that happened, I would walk away from everything I built with my own hands. The company. The name. All of it.

I lowered the phone slowly after the call ended.

Bernard.

In my last life, you hated me for sending her away. You destroyed my entire world for that one decision.

This time…

I’ll give you exactly what you want. And then I’ll take everything you never thought you could lose.

Before I left, I stopped by the restroom.

I splashed some water on my face, stared at myself in the mirror for a second. Pale. Tired. Empty. I almost didn’t recognize the woman looking back at me.

When I walked out, I ran straight into her.

Ingrid.

She was walking toward me like she owned the place.

“Mrs. MacAllister... You’re still here?”

Her shirt was slightly open, just enough to show the marks on her skin. She wasn’t even trying to hide it. She wanted me to see.

I stopped and looked at her properly.

In my past life, I crushed her in less than a day. I used everything I had, pressure, threats, money, until she backed off and left for New York on her own.

Now?

I was too tired.

Too tired to fight. Too tired to care.

I looked away and walked past her without saying a word.

I didn’t even make it five steps when a hot liquid splashed across my back.

I flinched. The heat burned through my clothes instantly.

“Oh!” Ingrid gasped behind me, way too dramatic. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to.”

I turned slowly.

She was holding an empty coffee cup, her lips trembling like she was about to cry. But her eyes… her eyes were smiling.

“I just…” she continued softly, lowering her gaze. “President MacAllister kept me busy earlier. I guess I used too much energy. My hands are still shaking.”

My stomach twisted.

Images flashed in my head without permission. Him and her. In that office. Right above where I was standing.

I felt sick.

I didn’t want to deal with this. Not anymore. But that didn’t mean she got to walk all over me.

Before I could think twice, I stepped forward and slapped her.

The sound echoed down the hallway.

Her head snapped to the side.

And right at that moment, the office door opened.

Bernard walked out.

Ingrid reacted fast. Faster than I expected. She dropped to the floor right in front of me, covering her face, her body trembling.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. MacAllister,” she cried, “I didn’t mean it, please don’t be mad at me. I know I was careless.”

Bernard’s expression darkened instantly.

“What the hell is going on?” he snapped, already moving toward her.

He shoved me aside without even looking.

My back, already burned from the coffee, slammed into the corner of the wall. Pain shot through me and I sucked in a breath, but he didn’t notice. Of course he didn’t.

He crouched down in front of her, “Hey. Look at me. What happened?”

Ingrid sniffed, clinging to his sleeve. “I felt dizzy… I think my blood sugar dropped. I didn’t see properly and spilled coffee on Mrs. MacAllister. She got angry and slapped me. I understand… I really do but my head still feels so light…”

His jaw tightened.

Then he looked up at me.

That look. Cold. Sharp. Full of blame.

“She’s just a kid! An intern. You really had to hit her over something like that? What’s wrong with you?”

I stared at him.

A kid?

So that’s what she was now?

He didn’t wait for my answer. He slid one arm under Ingrid and lifted her up carefully, like she was something fragile.

“Easy,” he muttered to her. “I’ve got you.”

And then he carried her back into the office.

Just like that.

I stood there, watching his back disappear, and something inside me finally broke.

Tears fell before I could stop them.

I remembered… there was a time when I got a small cut on my finger. Just a tiny one. He panicked back then. Carried me all the way to the hospital, cursing at the doctors to hurry up. They even laughed at him for overreacting.

Now…

That same man didn’t even notice I was hurt.

I wiped my face quickly. Enough. I already decided, didn’t I? So why does it still hurt this much?

I straightened up, ignoring the pain in my back, and walked out of the building.

I didn’t look back.

I went straight to the courthouse and filed for divorce.

There was a waiting period. A month. After that, everything between me and Bernard would be over.

Completely over.

This time, I wasn’t going to stay.

No matter what.

…

That night, Bernard didn’t come home. He only sent me a message. Said he had to stay late at the company, some business that couldn’t wait. Then he added one more line, cold and casual. Don’t be late for dinner tomorrow. That dinner… I was the one who arranged it. A client tied to one of his underground deals. Important. Dangerous. I stared at the screen for a while before replying.

“Okay.”

That was it. I didn’t ask where he really was. What was the point?

...

The next night, I arrived at the club on time. Private room. High-end place. The kind where deals were made over drinks and blood got cleaned before anyone noticed. But he wasn’t there. Instead, I saw Ingrid. She stood up when she saw me, all neat and proper, nothing like yesterday.

“Mrs. MacAllister,” she said politely. “President MacAllister is still in a meeting. He asked me to come ahead and let you know. He also said I should observe and learn.”

Observe? I almost laughed. Still, I nodded and led her inside.

“Fine. Stay close and don’t mess anything up.”

Dinner started. The client was already tipsy, loud, eyes wandering. Ingrid didn’t hold back. She poured drinks, leaned in close, her body brushing against him on purpose. Smiling, laughing, letting him touch her arm longer than necessary. Anyone could see what she was doing. I felt disgust crawl up my throat. I hated this kind of thing. Always had. I built everything without playing those games. I wasn’t about to sit there and watch it happen in front of me. I stood up.

“Excuse me.”

And walked out to the bathroom. When I came back, something felt off. There were people gathered outside the private room, whispering, tense. My heart skipped. I pushed through them and stepped inside. The room was a mess. Chairs knocked over. Glass shattered. The air smelled sharp, metallic. And on the floor… the client lay in a pool of blood. My breath caught.

“What happened?”

Then I saw him. Bernard. He was already there. And in his arms was Ingrid, her hair messy, dress wrinkled, trembling as she clung to him. I understood in an instant. Before I could even speak again, a sharp pain exploded across my face. He slapped me. My head snapped to the side.

“Don’t you know what’s the fuck going on?” he snapped, his voice low and furious, “Naomi, you wanna play dirty, go ahead. I won’t stop you. But don’t drag her into your shit! She’s not built for that. She’s not as ruthless as you.”

I froze. My cheek burned, but it was nothing compared to what his words did. Ruthless? Me? I remembered the early days of the company. Running around, closing deals, facing men who thought they could corner me.

One time it got dangerous. I refused. Walked away even if it meant losing everything. He was furious back then. Stormed to my place, grabbed me, even hit me once in anger. Got himself locked up for a few days because of it. And when he came out, he held me and said, you did the right thing. Thank you for protecting yourself.

From that day on, everyone knew I hated those unspoken rules. But now… this was who I was to him? A woman who’d do anything for business? A tear slipped down my cheek before I could stop it.

“Is that really how you see me?”

He paused. Just for a second. Something flickered in his eyes. Then Ingrid tightened her grip on his shirt.

“Mr. MacAllister,” she said weakly, her face flushed, “Your wife… she asked me to drink with him. I told her I couldn’t handle alcohol, but she kept pouring for me. I feel so sick right now…”

Silence. Then his face hardened again. His gaze turned sharp when it landed on me. Cold. Almost disgusted.

“People change,” he said slowly. “I guess I just didn’t see it happening to you.”

That hurt more than the slap. He didn’t wait for me to respond. He picked Ingrid up in his arms, careful, protective.

“Let’s go,” he muttered to her.

And then he walked out. Just like that. I stood there, surrounded by the mess, by the whispers, by the blood. I lowered my eyes. After a long time, I forced a smile. It hurt more than crying. Yeah… people do change. He wasn’t mine anymore. Maybe he never was.

...

On the way home, the streets felt too quiet. I didn’t notice when I was being followed. Not until someone grabbed me and dragged me into a dark alley. My heart jumped into my throat.

“What are you doing?” I struggled, panic rising. “Let me go!”

No answer. They shoved me down and dragged me further, my heels scraping against the ground. I tried to fight back, but there were too many of them. Then I heard water.

A river.

Cold dread crept up my spine.

They hauled me to the edge and forced me down. One of them grabbed my hair and slammed my face into the water.

Everything went black for a second.

I choked, thrashed, tried to breathe but water rushed into my nose and mouth, burning, suffocating. Just when I thought I’d pass out, they yanked me up. I gasped, coughing, barely getting air in.

Then they pushed me down again.

Again.

Again.

I lost count. My lungs screamed, my body went weak, and I couldn’t even struggle properly anymore. I felt myself slipping, like I was already halfway gone.

When they finally stopped, I collapsed on the ground, shaking, coughing up water, my whole body numb.

Then I heard them talking.

“Alright, that’s enough,” one of them said, a little uneasy. “The boss only told us to scare her, not kill her. You wanna deal with the fallout if something happens?”

Another one laughed, “What are you scared of? You seen how that bastard treats his own wife? He doesn’t give a damn about her. Even if we go further, who’s gonna care? Hell, he might even thank us for it.”

My eyes snapped open.

They were talking about Bernard.