After my son was born, my health began to decline, sometimes so badly that I couldn’t even drag myself out of bed.

My wife knelt before me, her hands pressed together in desperation, begging me to let Silas Anderson join the household to help us stay afloat.

Not long after Silas moved in, my wife took our son and left, saying that farming wasn’t enough to survive. Her calls home grew sparse until, one day, they stopped altogether.

Left with no other option, I survived by selling my blood and scavenging for scraps.

Then, after what felt like an eternity, my wife finally returned, only to drag me straight to the hospital for our son’s bone marrow transplant.

“You’re a useless cripple anyway,” she spat. “Just think of it as doing your duty as a father!”

But years of malnutrition had worn me down and I had to stay in the hospital to recover before I could do anything for our son.

It was there, in that sterile room, that I overheard Silas complaining about the money being spent on me.

“What do you know? This money is for our son! Once the transplant’s done, we’ll just give this sickly waste an extra dose and send him off. Then, all his land will be ours!”

Fury tore through me and at that moment, I felt my heart give way.

When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back on the day Silas first arrived at my home.

This time, I would make these two scoundrels pay for their betrayal.

——

A sudden, burning itch crawled up my throat and the familiar taste of blood surged within me.

Coughing, it felt as though an invisible hand had gripped my insides and twisted them into a knot.

Before I could fully open my eyes, a sharp, desperate wail pierced my ears.

“Husband, you can’t die! If you leave me, how will we, just a poor widow and her orphaned child, survive?”

I glanced around at the dilapidated house and Amaris Camden, kneeling on the floor before me.

My breath came in ragged gasps and my vision blurred with darkness.

In my past life, Amaris had begged me to let Silas ‘help out’ at home, insisting she couldn’t support both me and the child alone.

But just before I died, I had learned the truth. My beloved wife had long been entangled with Silas.

That so-called ‘helping hand’ was a clever ploy to steal the land my father had left me.

“Once the transplant is done, we’ll just give this sickly waste a little extra dose.”

Amaris’s voice cut through the hospital room, sharp and cold, like a blade meant to wound.

“By then, all the land that old man left behind will be ours!”

Silas rubbed his hands together, eyes gleaming with excitement.

My heart clenched a storm of hatred and suffocating fear threatening to swallow me whole.

I steadied my breath and forced a mask of indifference over my face.

“I’m not dead yet. Stop wailing like you’re mourning me.”

Amaris froze, clearly not expecting my response.

But, like a switch, she quickly regained her composure, slipping back into her façade of simplicity and sincerity.

She brought a bowl of dark, murky herbal medicine to me.

“Here, drink this while it’s hot. It’ll make you feel better.”

She reached for my forehead and the coolness of her fingertips jolted me back to reality.

A faint, cheap scent of cosmetics and lingering traces of cigarette smoke clung to her, marking her in a way I hadn’t noticed before.

I turned my head slightly, avoiding her gaze and spoke hoarsely.

“I’m fine. I’ll drink it later…”

Amaris paused, taken aback for a moment.

Then, without missing a beat, she smiled, scooping up a spoonful and bringing it to my lips.

“You’re as stubborn as a mule. Why fight with me over this? Just drink it. Silas will be here soon.”

She tried to feign concern, but her eyes remained fixed on my face as though appraising the value of something precious.

I took stock of my condition, silently weighing my options. Now wasn’t the time to rise against them.

After all, the debts from my past life would slowly but surely be paid in full.

Forcing back the wave of nausea, I opened my mouth and let the bitter concoction slide down my throat.

It was unbearable, far worse than anything I had ever tasted in my past life.

Just then, footsteps echoed outside. Amaris turned eagerly toward the door, only to quickly remember something. She glanced back at me, trying to reassure me with a forced smile.

"Stop being so stubborn. Silas agreeing to help us is already a great favor."

She wore a pitiful expression as though on the verge of tears.

"Do you really think I want to bring an outsider into our home?"

I couldn't stomach her act any longer. I simply closed my eyes.

"Alaric, are you alright? I heard you coughing from far away. You really need to take care of yourself."

A man peered in from the doorway, short, dark-skinned, with an uneasy yet ingratiating smile.

But behind his mask of kindness, I caught the briefest flash of cunning and smugness.

My stomach churned and the bitter medicine threatened to rise once again.

Amaris rose, taking the things Silas was carrying and practically pulled him inside.

"Silas, you’re finally here! There’s so much work waiting for you at home."

Silas rubbed his hands together, grinning widely, his yellowed, smoke-stained teeth exposed like a predator’s.

"Don’t worry about a thing, Alaric. Now that I’m here, you can count on me."

His eyes quickly scanned the room, barely concealing the greed behind his gaze.

"Silas is a hardworking man," Amaris added, her voice sweet with feigned concern. "Now that he’s here, you can finally rest easy."

Rest easy? More like it would make things easier for you two to act.

Suppressing the boiling nausea and rage that surged inside me, I forced out a weak smile and gave a slight nod.

Amaris smiled with satisfaction and patted my blanket.

"Alright, just focus on recovering. Silas and I will go make dinner."

She stood up and Silas eagerly followed her, dragging her out of the room.

Once again, I was left alone.

I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms, the sharp pain keeping me sharp.

"This time, I won’t let myself be slaughtered so easily."

Amaris, Silas, I would take back what you owe me with interest.

Ever since Silas had arrived, Amaris seemed less wary of me.

Seizing her carelessness, I secretly poured out part of the bitter medicine she had given me. Slowly, my strength began to return.

That day, when I stepped out of my room, I was greeted by a sight that twisted something inside me.

Silas sat in the main seat of my house, the very chair my father had left me. His posture was arrogant, as if the place was already his.

Amaris bustled around him, overly eager to please, a sweetness to her tone I had never heard before.

"Brother Silas, have some water," she cooed.

As Silas took the cup, his fingers brushed against the back of her hand.

The touch lingered, his fingers creeping up her arm, nearing her chest.

I let out a soft cough, an interruption in their little game.

Amaris jerked back, her hand pulling away as though burned. Her face flushed crimson and she shot a frantic glance in my direction.

I shut my eyes quickly, forcing a fit of ragged, gut-wrenching coughs to cover the awkward tension.

"Alaric, are you alright?"

Amaris rushed to my side, her cool hand resting lightly on my back as she gave it a soft pat.

The faint scent of tobacco lingered on her, a scent that mirrored the one that clung to Silas.

"It’s just my old illness. Nothing serious," I rasped, my voice weak, barely above a whisper.

"Then rest up. Amaris and I have things to discuss outside."

Silas rose from his seat, his voice carrying an air of authority as if he were the rightful master of the house.

Amaris glanced at me briefly before turning away, her steps light, almost skipping with excitement.

I narrowed my eyes, watching them through the small gap, every movement under my scrutiny.

Silas turned back, his gaze slithering over every inch of my home like a filthy autumn insect.

A smug, unrestrained smile twisted across his face, one of ownership and satisfaction.

Amaris’s retreating figure trembled slightly, whether from excitement or shame; it was hard to tell.

But this was my home.

That woman, still my wife in name, had just shamelessly flirted with another man.

My throat tightened, the sensation of fire building within me.

I began coughing again, this time violently, stars dancing in my vision.

"Silas, let’s move farther. It’s too noisy here," Amaris’s voice floated in from outside, laced with impatience and scorn.

Silas’s voice, lazy and dripping with disdain, followed, "Let him sleep. Sick people need their rest. It’ll be quieter for us outside."

Their footsteps faded and the room fell into silence once more.

Only my labored breathing served as a reminder that I was still clinging to life.

Just then, the courtyard gate creaked open. Caelum had returned.

Caelum, my child with Amaris, at least, that’s what I had always believed.

But in my last life, the words I overheard in my final moments had cast a shadow of doubt.

"Dad, where’s Mom?"

Caelum pushed open the door, scanning the house, impatience clear in his voice.

"She had something to do and went out."

"Has Uncle Silas come yet? The school keeps asking for a parent and you’re an embarrassment looking like this. What am I supposed to do?"

Caelum tossed his school bag onto the table, frustration seeping from him.

His words hit me like a cold splash of water and I understood.

Amaris must have told him about Silas moving in long before.

In my past life, I had fretted over how he might react, even trying to explain things to him.

Now, I saw how utterly pathetic and futile those efforts had been.

My heart sank deeper, settling in a pit of cold realization.

Since you were all so determined, just wait and see.

In the days that followed, though I had stopped drinking the medicine, I continued to play the role of the helpless patient.

I pretended to be weak, even telling Amaris and Silas that I was too frail to leave my bed.

Amaris’s eyes sparked with brief excitement when she heard, but she quickly masked it, replacing the glint with a concerned frown.

Silas played along, too, suggesting he might take me to a hospital in the city.

Of course, he never made a single move to do so.

That day, Silas was in the courtyard, moving things with loud, strained grunts that echoed through the air.

"Amaris, come help me out. Pass me a towel."

Silas’s voice called out, rough and demanding.

Amaris hurried over, clutching the towel and wiping the sweat from his face with tender care.

Her tenderness stirred something strange within me.

"Brother Silas, slow down. It’s heavy. Don’t strain your back," she murmured, her voice soft, drenched in concern.

From my bed, I could only watch their shadows dance against the window, each movement accompanied by sounds that scraped at my nerves.

Then, with a sudden burst of strength, Silas grunted a beastly sound.

The harsh scraping of the water jar being shifted echoed in the stillness, followed by a heavy breath as Silas swung his arms, sweat flying from his body.

"Ah..." he sighed, dragging the sound long.

"A house without a man to hold it together is nothing but chaos, utterly disordered."

His voice wasn’t loud, but each word landed like a hammer against my chest.