My phone wouldn't stop buzzing, each time I silenced another call.

No need to check—I was sure Sarah and her squad were trashing me, calling me the scum of the earth.

But I didn't give a damn.

Being a scumbag beats being a corpse any day.

I hit the gas, zooming down the coastal highway.

The chill ocean breeze was a slap of relief for my fried brain.

I parked myself on the guardrail, lighting up a cigarette.

Sarah's attempt on my life was a hard pill to swallow.

Yet, why would she even want me dead?

Wasn't I good enough to her?

I watched a couple of seagulls playing tag by the waves, my cig burning down to the nub.

"Shit—"

The sting from the cigarette sparked a flashback to a night, about two weeks before I died in my last life.

That evening, I spotted Sarah's comment under a post blasting mistresses.

"Yep, I'm the mistress, LOL."

I woke her up, phone in hand, demanding an explanation.

Under the dim glow of the bedside lamp, she kneeled on the bed, her face ghostly pale, tears quickly spilling over.

"Honey, I was just kidding."

I said nothing, just gave her the cold shoulder, waiting for her next move.

She edged closer, lifting her eyes to mine, all doe-eyed.

"Babe, you know you'd never let me be the other woman."

"Excuse me?" My laugh was bitter.

I couldn't believe how slick her excuses were.

"Babe~" She tried to sweet-talk her way out again.

I shoved her back, asking sharply, "Sarah, you think this is something to joke about?"

"No, absolutely not." She shook her head, swearing with three fingers raised that she'd never slip up like that again.

I let it slide.

Back then, I figured everyone slips up now and then.

But now, sitting on that guardrail, that night didn't sit right with me.

Her reaction was too intense for a simple slip-up.

First tears, then coyness.

Sarah knew how to play me; she knew just what to do to soften me up.

Her comment wasn't a slip—it was the truth.

She really was having an affair!

After chilling in the breeze for hours, watching those seagulls disappear, I finally grabbed my phone from the car.

What struck me was that all afternoon, only two calls were from Sarah.

The remaining 45 missed calls were from Paul.

I hit him back, and he picked up instantly.

"Where are you hiding? You drunk or what?"

He sounded furious.

"Cut to the chase, or I'm done here." I wasn't in the mood for niceties.

We weren't boss and employee right now—just old friends.

"Are you out of your mind? Sarah's been sobbing all day, and you vanish?"

My response was frosty.

"Her tears aren't my problem."

Classic jerk response.

"You're a real piece of work!"

And with that, he hung up.

I settled back into the car seat, buckling up when a thought stopped me cold.

In my past life, at this time, Sarah and Paul were hardly more than acquaintances.

It was through me that Paul even knew Sarah.

So why was he defending her so aggressively?

A sickening possibility crossed my mind.

Was Paul the man Sarah was cheating with?

No, that can't be right.

Paul was the kid next door, we grew up together, practically brothers.

We were tight as thieves.

If not for a chance meeting with a CEO's daughter a year later, and his good looks and determination to marry up, he wouldn't have become the big boss at Stronghold Group.

Since then, he's been my boss.

But he's always treated me well, never pulled rank, and we still hit up dive bars for beers.

There were several times when I was too plastered to function, and it was Paul who'd call Sarah to pick me up.

But what happened after those nights?

Strangely, every time I drank with Paul, I ended up blacked out, remembering nothing.

"Damn it!"

I punched the steering wheel, seething with anger.

If they had been planning this behind my back, they could have been sneaking around for who knows how long.

Just the thought of waking up with a hangover, Sarah cheerfully serving me breakfast, acting all sweet and devoted...

Back then, I thought she was a keeper.

They must have hooked up way back.

If she truly cared, even if she didn't get mad when I came home wasted, she would've had words with me later. How could she always be so damn sweet?

Thinking about it, I couldn't help but chuckle bitterly.

Just like Lady Macbeth serving drinks with a smile.

I was such a fool, a complete idiot!

But accepting Paul's betrayal? That was harder to stomach.

Even though the proof was right in front of me.

After a moment's thought, I decided to confront Paul.

I needed to get to the bottom of this.