My father-in-law tossed a credit card across the table and looked down at me, demanding that I divorce his daughter.

In my past life, I had refused with everything I had. But this time, I picked up the pen and signed the divorce papers without a second thought.

Because right then, I remembered what had happened last time.

In that life, I found my wife after she had lost her memory. To support her, I worked myself to the bone, delivering 200 food orders a day. But when her memories came back, she realized she was actually the daughter of the wealthy Harretts.

She saw our marriage as a stain on her perfect life. To get rid of me, she pretended to have amnesia again.

She said, "Since you saved me once, I'll give you some money. But after this, don't ever show up in front of me again."

I refused. I stayed by her side, enduring her insults and beatings. But in the end, she ordered our son to set the fire that killed me, just so she could marry her first love.

Now that I had been given another chance, I wasn't about to make the same mistake twice.

My father-in-law, Lionel Harrett, looked at me with disgust and sneered, "You're just a delivery guy. Now that you've suddenly got a fortune big enough to last several lifetimes, it must feel like heaven, huh? No wonder you clung to Rhea for so long, pretending to be head over heels for her every single day."

I almost laughed.

Rhea Harrett was the one who deserved an award for her performance in my last life.

When it poured, she would show up to pick me up from work. When our tiny apartment leaked, she would squeeze into the corner of the bed with our baby, promising that someday we'd make enough money to live a better life.

But the same woman later claimed she'd lost her memory again, locked me in the basement, and fed me spoiled food, all so she could marry her first love, Glen Newton.

A chill ran down my spine as I snapped back to the present. I took a slow sip of coffee and smiled.

"Mr. Harrett," I said lightly, "once I leave the country, don't forget to wipe away every trace of me, the so-called gold-digger, alright?"

Lionel gave a cold snort, grabbed the divorce papers, and stormed off.

At first, I had actually felt guilty toward Rhea. I thought she had crashed her car and lost her memory because she was trying to avoid hitting me on my scooter.

Back then, she couldn't stand any loud noise. It would trigger her headaches.

So, I worked two jobs, delivering food by day and washing dishes at a diner by night. Every cent went to her medical bills.

Each night, I would come home aching and exhausted, and she would look at me with guilt in her eyes, promising that someday she would make it up to me.

But after she returned to the Harretts as the heiress, everything changed.

That very night, during dinner with her family, she threw the meal I had cooked onto the floor.

Under their disgusted stares, she snapped, "Is this all you can cook? If you can't whip up something decent, leave it to the chef. You really are hopeless."

The plates broke, splattering food across my clothes. The meal ended in awkward silence.

From then on, everyone in the Harrett household knew I was the poor husband Rhea looked down on. Even the maids stopped respecting me.

When I regained my past memories, I realized both her amnesia episodes had been fake. She had only done it to get back at Glen.

Even the car accident that started it all wasn't fate. She had just gotten drunk after hearing Glen was dating someone new.

But now, in this life, I still had time to change everything.

Rhea came home past midnight.

A loud knock jolted me awake. She stood in the doorway, reeking of alcohol, her face twisted with irritation.

"Glen caught a chill," she said coldly. "He wants your chicken soup. Go make it."

I glanced up. Behind her stood Glen, his shirt half unbuttoned, abs showing.

He chuckled softly, his eyes full of challenge. "Sorry to bother you so late, Cassian. I just really like your soup."

Before I could answer, Rhea draped her coat over his shoulders and scolded gently, "Why did you wear so little? No wonder you caught a chill."

The tenderness in her voice made my stomach twist.

In my past life, after I had starved for three days, Glen had forced me to eat a whole bowl of rotten oatmeal. He had yanked my hair, sneering that people like me didn't deserve real food.

My scalp throbbed in pain, and the rancid smell of the food mixed with the taste of blood in my mouth made me sick to my stomach.

Rhea stood nearby, watching me coldly.

I was lost in my thoughts when a sharp pain tore across my scalp.

Rhea had yanked me back to reality by the hair, her face twisted in anger.

"Go make chicken soup for Glen! Are you deaf? He's the future head of the Harretts. You'd better show some respect!"

She gave a violent tug. The moment she let go, my back slammed hard against the corner of the table, knocking the air out of me.

Pain shot through my whole body, and my chest tightened in pain, as if my heart was swelling from inside.

My back had been injured once before. I had taken the hit from a car while saving Rhea, leaving a long scar across my waist.

Back then, whenever her fingers brushed that scar, she would gently stroke it, her eyes welled up with tears.

Now, she pushed me against the table as if it meant nothing.

For a brief second, she froze as if she remembered my injury. But the hesitation vanished in an instant.

Her voice turned icy. "Quit acting so delicate. You're just a broke loser, so stop pretending you were made of glass."

I looked up at her, realizing how completely unfamiliar she had become. Whatever love I had left for her vanished right there.

That was when I saw Tristram Todd's small figure dart toward me.

Before I could react, he lunged and bit my wrist.

The pain was so sharp that it made me gasp. I tried to shake him off, but he clamped down harder, refusing to let go until his little jaw grew tired.

Then he finally released me, spitting out a bit of blood.

"Hmph! That's what you get for being mean to Glen! You're ugly, and you suck! I hate you!"

I stared numbly at my wrist, the skin torn and bleeding.

Rhea quickly scooped Tristram into her arms while Glen chuckled, ruffling the boy's hair.

Encouraged, Tristram's cheeks flushed red as he grabbed a toy from his hand and hurled it at me.

"Die, you demon! You're the worst!"

My body felt heavy as stone. I didn't even dodge. The toy struck my forehead, bounced off, and clattered onto the floor.

It felt as if something inside me was being torn apart, piece by piece.

Tristram had been born premature and weak. I had spent years looking after him, afraid to take my eyes off him for even a minute.

But the child I had loved with my whole life ended up setting the fire that killed me, just so he could have a father with a "better pedigree".

And now, to impress Glen, he bit me and hit me, wishing I would drop dead.

As Rhea carried him away, Tristram turned back and made a mocking face at me. Glen even praised him for being a brave little boy.

The three of them looked like one big happy family, leaning on each other as they disappeared down the hall.

The chill from the marble floor crept into my skin, and I couldn't stop shaking.

I glanced at my phone. My flight overseas was in 48 hours.

I started packing.

Ten years of marriage, yet all my belongings fit into a single suitcase.

Rhea had always said a country boy like me didn't understand luxury, so buying me anything expensive would be a waste.

The more I thought about it, the more pathetic I felt.

By the time I finished, the sun was already setting.

I checked my phone again and decided to grab dinner at my favorite restaurant before leaving town.

I just wanted a quiet evening to myself for once. But fate had other plans.

As I stepped out of the restaurant, I ran right into Rhea and Glen.

Glen was holding a bunch of shopping bags, while Rhea clung to his arm, looking soft and delicate beside him.

Behind them, Tristram tottered along with a few boxes in his little arms, his face glowing with pride.

The sight stabbed through me like a knife, and my chest tightened until I could barely breathe. Even the bite mark on my wrist started throbbing again.

Just as I began to lose my balance, someone caught me.

It was Myra Field, Rhea's rival in business, the woman she accused of stealing her projects more than once.

When Rhea approached us, Myra was holding my hand, examining the wound on my wrist.

Glen smirked. "Wow, Cassian, I didn't think you had it in you. So are you and Ms. Field an item now? Guess you've been keeping busy while Rhea was gone—"

Before he could finish the sentence, Myra's hand whipped across his face with a clean, echoing slap.

The moment Rhea saw Glen get slapped, she lunged at Myra, and the two of them started fighting.

By the time I rushed forward to break them apart, Rhea already had a red mark across her cheek.

Covering the side of her face, she let out a bitter laugh.

"Is Cassian that good in bed? Is that why you'd actually hit me for him—"

Before she could finish, my hand flew out, and a sharp crack cut through the air. A bright red handprint bloomed on her other cheek.

Rhea's eyes went wide with rage. She raised her hand to strike me back, but Myra grabbed her wrist midair and twisted it away.

Rhea stumbled backward a few steps before steadying herself. Then the first thing she did was turn to check on Glen's face.

After standing under the blazing sun for so long, my eyes felt sore and dry. My throat felt as if something was stuck in it, and even speaking became incredibly difficult.

I asked Rhea hoarsely, "So you and Glen are having business meetings at the mall now, huh?

"If we're not together anymore, what right do you have to question me? And if we are together, then what the hell are you doing with Glen?"

Her expression froze.

Glen's face turned dark as he instinctively touched the fancy watch on his wrist. He stayed quiet while glancing at Tristam with a pitiful look, as if he was begging for help.

Tristram frowned, his little face twisted in anger. He snatched a rock off the ground and hurled it at me.

Myra caught it before it hit.

"I told Mom to come shopping with us to pick out Glen's birthday gift!" Tristram yelled. "Stop picking on him, you demon!"

He puffed up his cheeks, his voice trembling with rage. "Glen isn't ugly like you! You're just some poor nobody! He's the dad I've always wanted; he's a better dad than you will ever be!"

The dad he had always wanted, a better dad than I would ever be…

I forced a faint smile and looked at the boy who looked so much like me. "I see. You're one hell of a devoted son."

Tristram's lips quivered, as if he wanted to argue, but I had had enough.

I turned away, gave Myra a brief nod of thanks, and walked off.

Behind me, Rhea and Glen's laughter faded into the distance. My legs felt as if they were made of lead, with every step heavier than the last.

At some point, the sky opened up, and rain began to fall.

When I touched my face, I couldn't tell if it was rain or tears on my fingers.

By the time I got back to the villa, it was close to 11 p.m.

To my surprise, Rhea was still awake.

The moment I opened the door, a pink blanket was thrown over my shoulders. A soft floral scent filled the air.

"You're soaked," she scolded gently. "Why didn't you find somewhere to stay dry?"

Her voice was sweet, almost tender. It was as if none of the horrible things between us had ever happened.

In my past life, the night before Tristram set the fire, Rhea had spoken to me in that same gentle tone.

Just as I was thinking that, she bent down and clipped something to my sleeve.

I looked and saw a pair of cufflinks. It was the matching set that came with Glen's watch.

In her eyes, I was just a broke guy who didn't understand luxury. She probably thought she was doing me a favor by giving me the free gift that came with Glen's present.

But what she didn't know was that I had majored in jewelry design back in college.

Rhea didn't notice my expression change. She just kept talking softly.

"You've always wanted to spend more time with Tristram, right? Glen's always been the one to take him to amusement parks and school events. I checked the forecast, and tomorrow looks great. Let's go camping at Greenvine Park, the one you've always talked about."

Tomorrow was the last day before I left.

She must have sensed something was off and was trying to fix things.

But I had long lost hope for us.

Still, since she wanted one last memory, I would make sure it was one she would never forget.