My husband, Preston Branson, won the jackpot, pocketing a cool two hundred million dollars, yet he wanted a divorce from me.

I'm pregnant, and I don't want my child to grow up without a father.

I warned him, "You can divorce me if you want, but you have to split the prize money with me."

He pretended to reconcile but pushed me off the 27th floor. Both the baby and I fell to our deaths.

When I woke up again, I found myself back on the day I helped him buy that lottery ticket. This time, I was determined to seize this unexpected fortune for myself.

I bought a hundred tickets with the numbers he had told me.

I'm resolved to take revenge on him.

"Get me a lottery ticket. I've already sent you the numbers," Preston said, still glued to his phone, not even bothering to look up.

I froze.

The terror of death made my whole body tremble. My head buzzed with the memory.

I had come back to life, returned to the day I helped him buy that lottery ticket.

In my previous life, I had bought a ticket for him. Later, he won two hundred million dollars. When the results were announced, I was overjoyed and planned to travel with him.

But then he handed me divorce papers.

"Roberta, I've had enough. I can't even eat when I look at you. Let's get a divorce."

"A divorce?"

I hadn't even told him that I was pregnant.

I felt our child couldn't grow up without a father.

"Honey, I'm pregnant. Feel it for yourself!"

"Are you crazy?" He pushed my hand away, his face full of disgust, as if I was something filthy.

"Preston, you're going to be a father! Please, don't divorce me!"

Preston hesitated for a moment, then frowned. "Roberta, look at yourself! Do you really think you deserve me? Be smart and just sign the papers."

For the sake of our child, I refused to divorce him.

I insisted that if he wanted a divorce, he would have to give me half of the winnings.

That night, Preston pulled me out onto the balcony. "Roberta, I've thought it over. I still love you. Let's stay together as a family. Can you forgive me?"

He pulled out a necklace, gently fastening it around my neck, then put on some music and held me close, dancing with me on the balcony.

I thought he had finally come to his senses.

Suddenly, he shoved me off the balcony.

I desperately clung to the window ledge, pleading with him to save me.

"Honey, please, pull me up! I'm carrying our baby! He hasn't even seen the world yet..."

Preston's face twisted into a cruel sneer as he pried my fingers off one by one.

"Roberta, I'm rich now. There are plenty of beautiful women waiting for me. Why would I want an ugly, short, fat, and poor woman like you?"

With a loud crash, a remote control flew across the room, snapping me out of my reverie.

"Why are you silent? Want to get beaten?"

I jolted, waking up from the memory.

In my mind, I thought, "Preston.

This time, the two hundred million dollars are mine, and so is your life."

I picked up the remote control and handed Preston a glass of iced cola.

"Honey, I'm sorry, I just spaced out for a moment.

"Your birthday's coming up, and I was thinking about what gift to get you. Do you want the limited edition AJ sneakers or the latest smartphone?"

Preston's eyes lit up immediately. "Roberta, you're the best. Let's go pick them out together. We can also buy the lottery ticket on the way."

My heart skipped a beat, and I quickly urged him, "It's too hot outside, and I'd feel bad if you got exhausted. You rest at home, and I'll go get them for you."

The lottery store was just downstairs, and when the weather wasn't too hot, Preston would spend entire days there.

He didn't just buy lottery tickets. He'd also splurge on scratch-offs, burning through hundreds of dollars at a time. He was so close with the store owner, Decker Powell, that they were like brothers.

Decker glanced at the numbers on my phone and asked, "Do you want to bet double?"

I paused.

In my last life, Preston had placed ten times the usual bet on these numbers. The jackpot for a single ticket was twenty million dollars, and he'd multiplied it by ten.

"What's the maximum I can bet?" I asked.

Decker looked surprised. "The highest is a hundred times. Does Preston really have that much confidence in these numbers?"

It was me who had confidence in these numbers.

But I knew I couldn't buy them here.

"No, just one ticket will do."

"Just one? Preston usually bets ten times. I better check with him."

I reached out to stop him, but he'd already dialed Preston's number.

"Preston, your wife's here to buy the lottery tickets. You're not doubling down this time?"

Preston's voice came through the phone, cursing, "I want ten times the bet, didn't she tell you? That damn woman, I swear she needs a good beating..."

I was so embarrassed I wanted to find a crack in the wall to hide in. Decker, rubbing his hands together, looked just as awkward.

I thought to myself, "When did Preston start treating me like that?

All he ever does is hit or curse at me, never giving me an ounce of respect in front of others."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to..."

I grabbed the lottery ticket and left. I knew Preston wouldn't have much longer to enjoy his good life.

I went to a different lottery shop and bought ninety-nine tickets with the same numbers.

On Wednesday evening, I was watching TV when Preston sat down next to me and said, "Roberta, I'm sorry."

He spoke with tears in his eyes, "It's my fault. My salary isn't as high as yours, and I've made you suffer these past few years."

I didn't know what he was up to.

I straightened up, watching him perform, thinking, "Is he trying to divorce me?"

The lottery results were announced yesterday.

In my previous life, we watched the draw together. But this time, he didn't even mention it to me and had deleted the lottery numbers from my phone.

I could tell he was trying to hide the fact that he'd won.

I raised an eyebrow but stayed silent.

He had to push forward. "I've drafted a marital property agreement. You just need to sign it. It's for your own protection."

I was a bit puzzled.

I took the papers and glanced at them. The agreement stated that all marital assets would be kept separate.

I immediately realized he was trying to prevent me from getting a share of his money.

I couldn't help but laugh.

"Roberta, I'm doing this for your own good. Think it over..."

"Here!" I handed him the signed agreement.

Preston's eyes widened in disbelief. He hadn't even finished convincing me to sign.

He couldn't believe I agreed so quickly.

I chuckled softly.

"Since we're both free today, why don't we get this notarized right away?"

Preston nodded eagerly.

As soon as the notarization was done before we even left the office and while the ink was still drying, Preston pulled out divorce papers and, ever so considerately, handed me a pen.

"Roberta, let's get a divorce."

"A divorce?"

He couldn't wait even a minute, eager to take his winnings and start a new life.

In my previous life, he married Kathie Wilson just days after my death. They had a son and lived a happy life together.

"Is he that desperate?" I thought to myself

A sharp sound brought me back to reality.

Preston had slapped himself hard across the face.

"Roberta, I'm sorry! It's all my fault. I've made you suffer, and I want to set you free, to let you live the life you deserve."

His face immediately swelled, and blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.

To deceive me into a divorce, he really went all out.

I thought, "Do I need him to persuade me out of this marriage with him?

What is there to hold on to with a man who could hit me at any moment?"

Under my clothes, my body was covered in bruises.

There were finger marks from where he'd grabbed me, bruises from where he'd kicked me, and more from where he'd hit me with various objects.

Everything in the house had become his weapon of choice. Slippers, ashtrays, rolling pins, whatever he could get his hands on when he was upset, he used to hit me.

I shook my head, realizing how foolish I had been before.

"Fine."

I signed the papers quickly, tears streaming down my face.

"Roberta?"

Preston looked at me with a mix of regret and concern, "I still love you. I want you to be happy."

I nearly slipped and gagged with disgust.

"Let's finalize the divorce tomorrow, don't forget!"