Ethan Carter indulged his fiancée, letting her crush my legs until they were broken.

At his engagement banquet, my father, Richard Adams, created such chaos that Ethan was forced to marry me.

After the wedding, he tried to have my father killed, leaving him in a coma to this day.

For five years of marriage, we cursed each other, hoping the other would die a miserable death.

I forced him to acknowledge his beloved Isabella Moore as his “sister,” and then watched him escort her to her wedding.

On the way, the car lost control, causing a devastating accident. Ethan fought desperately to push me out of death’s grasp…

He looked at me with a faint smile:

“Claire, live well…”

“But in the next life, I want to marry Isabella.”

With the last of his strength, he crawled toward Isabella, who lay bleeding on the ground, trying to die at her side.

But after years of being paralyzed, I refused to let him have his wish.

I clung tightly to his leg as the flames roared around us.

When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the very day Isabella set me up.

Ethan, I’m done with you.

A cool breeze brushed against my face, the pain and burning gone in an instant.

My assistant, Sophie Green, ran toward me with a pair of dance shoes in her hands.

“Claire, I knew you were the best!” she cheered.

“In the final round, we’re definitely going to win the championship and be crowned the most beautiful dancers!”

“I prepared these special ‘Champion’s Shoes’ for you. Let’s put them on right away!”

A glint of cold light flashed inside the shoes, and I froze.

Before I could answer, Sophie squatted down, eager to change my shoes for me.

This was Isabella’s first step in destroying me in my previous life.

I quickly stopped her.

“Don’t! Give me the shoes first!”

Though confused, Sophie obediently handed them over.

I took the shoes, and under the stage lights, I pulled out dozens of silver needles hidden inside.

Staring at the sharp pins in shock, Sophie stammered:

“Claire, I swear I prepared these myself! How could there be needles? I checked them over and over…”

“It’s fine. It’s not your fault. Some enemies hide in the shadows.”

Furious, Sophie declared she would find out who had done such a vile thing and framed her.

I stopped her with a smile, focusing instead on preparing for the final round.

When I stepped back onto the stage, my gaze drifted to the VIP seats, where Ethan and Isabella were feeding each other fruit.

Isabella smiled radiantly, her eyes gleaming with unrestrained triumph.

Under her expectant gaze, I danced gracefully.

And under her shocked, disbelieving eyes, I danced as if it were the performance of my life.

In my past life, unaware of the trap in my shoes, I had leapt onto the stage only to be pierced by countless needles. I never reached the finals.

Just like today, Sophie had shouted that we needed to find out who hurt me and handed me over to Ethan.

He had been drinking, so Isabella went to fetch the car.

When she returned, she slammed the gas pedal and drove straight into me, shattering both of my legs.

Ethan had let go of me, rushing instead to comfort Isabella, asking if she was hurt.

Later, on the way to the hospital, he looked at my pale, sweat-drenched face and begged me to forgive her, insisting she only mistook the gas for the brake in her panic to take me to the ER.

He refused to believe Isabella had done it on purpose, nor that she had planted needles in my shoes. He fought with me bitterly over it.

While I sat in the hospital, condemned to a wheelchair for life, he staged a grand engagement banquet to make Isabella happy.

When my father learned the truth, he stormed the celebration and forced Ethan to marry me, or else he’d pursue criminal charges against Isabella.

I thought sacrificing my legs and my lifelong passion for dance in exchange for marrying his beloved would be a fair trade.

But I lost everything.

As I finished my dance in this new life, the thunderous applause from the audience told me everything.

There was no suspense—I had won the championship.

Sophie hugged me and spun me around in joy, while I felt nothing but relief.

Ethan Carter pulled Isabella Moore along as they came over to congratulate me.

“Claire, congratulations on winning the championship just as you wished! You were stunning on stage today!”

Isabella’s gaze swept down to my feet before she also offered her congratulations.

I smiled faintly, meeting Ethan’s eyes.

“Thank you.”

And silently, I hope you get what you wish for in this lifetime too.

To celebrate my victory, Ethan insisted on taking me to a club for a lively night out.

Before I could decline, he was already on the phone calling people to join.

I couldn’t escape his persistence and reluctantly agreed.

As I headed toward the underground parking lot, Isabella tugged at my arm.

“Claire, you must be exhausted after the competition. Just ride with us. I’ll go get the car, and you can help watch over Ethan. You don’t know how much he drank—his clients wouldn’t let him go, but he still insisted on coming to see your performance.”

Her tone was full of reproach, and her reproachful eyes lingered on Ethan.

Still tipsy, Ethan laughed foolishly and slung an arm around my shoulder.

“Claire’s competition? Even if knives fell from the sky, I’d still come. She’s my only little sister, after all!”

He had always treated me like a sister. Even in my past life when we were married, he cursed me constantly yet still cared for me in that same “sibling” way—never once crossing the line.

If blame must fall, it’s on me—for foolishly falling in love with him.

If I hadn’t, Richard wouldn’t have stormed his engagement party after I was left broken-hearted and paralyzed.

I gently pried Ethan’s arm off and pushed him toward Isabella.

“Let your wife-to-be take care of you, Ethan. I don’t want to deal with his drunken antics.”

I turned, pulling Sophie Green with me toward the elevator.

As the doors began to close, Ethan suddenly pressed a hand against them, stopping them.

“Claire, what did you just call Isabella?”

His eyes were hazy, but his tone was unusually serious.

I gave him a small, steady smile.

“Wife.”

He froze, frowning slightly, as if he wanted to say something. But Isabella tugged on his arm, and the doors closed, shutting them out.

At my side, Sophie whispered, puzzled:

“Claire, didn’t you use to like Mr. Carter? Why the sudden change…?”

“That was the past. People have to move on.”

Inside the private room at the club, Ethan and I were surrounded by mutual friends raising their glasses to congratulate me.

After the commotion, I slipped into a corner, quietly sipping juice.

Ethan was in the center of the crowd, drinking as everyone egged him on. Isabella clung to his side, occasionally stepping in to block drinks for him. Their closeness spurred the crowd to chant for them to kiss.

Ethan didn’t hesitate—he kissed Isabella passionately, a French kiss under the dim lights.

The raw intensity in his eyes was blindingly painful to watch.

I stood and made my way toward the restroom, desperate to leave the suffocating atmosphere.

But someone grabbed my arm.

“Claire, where are you going? Ethan’s in the middle of a hot kiss—you’re not planning to ruin the moment, are you?”

For a second, the lively air in the room froze with awkward tension.

Everyone knew about my past feelings for Ethan—it wasn’t exactly a secret. They thought I was about to throw a jealous tantrum.

I calmly pulled my arm free.

“I’m going to the restroom.”

Sophie, thinking I was holding back my feelings, couldn’t resist speaking up for me.

“If it weren’t for Mr. Carter suddenly getting a girlfriend and announcing an engagement, everyone in Los Angeles thought he’d end up marrying Claire. After all—”

I tugged on her sleeve to silence her.

But Ethan had already pulled away from the kiss, his face dark.

Coldly, he snapped at Sophie:

“You’re just an assistant. What do you know? Stop spouting nonsense!”

It was the first time Ethan Carter had ever snapped at Sophie Green.

Scolding her was no different from striking me—it stung all the same.

He was so harsh, most likely out of guilt, afraid I might reveal something he didn’t want others to know.

Just last year, on my birthday, Ethan and I were still inseparable—two lifelong singles who spent nearly every day together.

He had held my hand and made a wish with me.

“Claire, may we share this moment year after year, forevermore.”

That night, drunk and unguarded, he said if we both reached twenty-five without finding someone, we’d go get our marriage license.

I had agreed, looking forward to my twenty-fifth birthday with anticipation.

But when the day came, instead of a surprise, he brought Isabella Moore to my party.

And I was left the fool, still expecting something from him.

Sophie had witnessed the entirety of my feelings for Ethan, and now stood frozen, stunned by his outburst.

Everyone else looked at me nervously, expecting me to lash out in defense of her.

Instead, I took Sophie’s hand and calmly broke the tension:

“Everyone’s mistaken. Ethan and I are just like brother and sister. Now that he’s found me a sister-in-law, I couldn’t be happier.”

I spoke with sincerity, but no one believed me.

I didn’t care to explain further. I had no desire to stay any longer, and I rose to leave.

But Isabella suddenly blocked my way.

“Claire, the party’s still going—how can you just leave? Don’t forget, you’re the guest of honor tonight!”

“Or is it that what everyone just said is true? You and Ethan…”

Her eyes welled with tears as she glanced at Ethan, painting herself the victim.

The alcohol seemed to vanish from Ethan’s system as he shot Sophie a furious glare, then hurriedly pulled Isabella into his arms to comfort her.

And in front of everyone, he scolded me harshly:

“Claire Adams, I arranged this celebration for you, and this is how you repay me—by letting your assistant spout nonsense and upset Isabella?”

“Whatever your intentions, it doesn’t change the fact that I’m going to marry Isabella. Perhaps I was too close to you before and made you misunderstand. From now on, I’ll keep my distance, and I hope you’ll do the same.”

The tenderness in his gaze when he looked at Isabella turned to icy disdain the moment it landed on me.

“Fine.”

My response was sharp and decisive.

That only seemed to anger him more. He demanded Sophie and I drink three glasses each to apologize to Isabella.

He knew very well we were both allergic to alcohol, that we couldn’t drink.

Sophie bristled, ready to lash out, but I stopped her.

I picked up the glass myself, lifted it high, and spoke softly:

“It’s my fault Isabella’s unhappy. I’ll take three drinks as punishment—and as my early blessing for you both. May you have a joyful marriage and a lifetime together.”

I downed the three glasses in one go, then took Sophie’s hand and left.

As I passed Ethan, I whispered:

“I’ll grant your wish and step aside. But keep your woman in check—tell her never to do something as low as planting needles in my dance shoes again.”

Ethan froze, bewildered, but Isabella’s face turned ashen.

She understood. That was enough.

On the way home, Sophie bought me medicine for the allergic reaction, struggling to hold back words.

I knew what she wanted to say, so I spared her the effort:

“Sophie, I was obsessed before.”

“From now on, I’ll never love him again.”

Her eyes filled with tears as she hugged me tightly, crying for the secret love I had never spoken aloud.

In that moment, by all rights, I should have been crying my heart out as well.

But there was nothing left in me to cry.

When Sophie saw my dry eyes and steady expression, she finally believed I had truly let go.

Back home, my father, Richard Adams, had just returned from overseas. He pulled me into a warm embrace.

The moment I felt his familiar arms around me, my tears finally broke free, unstoppable.