By a twist of fate, my husband, Morgan Lancaster, and I perish together in a sea of flames.

When I open my eyes again, I find myself back on the very day we received our marriage certificate.

In my previous life, we appeared to be a loving couple in the eyes of others, yet Morgan refused to share a bedroom with me the entire time we were married.

It was only moments before our deaths that I discovered I was merely a substitute for his first love and that he had chosen to remain chaste for her for life.

After getting another chance at life, neither of us mentions the past. Instead, by mutual understanding, we file for divorce that same day. From that point on, we go our separate ways.

Eight years later, Morgan shows up arm in arm with his childhood sweetheart, Freya Springer, at a business summit. He is now a prominent and celebrated rising star in the business world.

Seeing me dressed in a plain outfit, he approaches with a glass of champagne. His tone drips with mockery as he asks, "Ms. Smith, even if you still have feelings for me, there's no need to dress like a waitress just to get close to me. You aren't hoping for a reconciliation, are you?"

I say nothing and simply smile as I wave at someone in the distance.

My son, Theo Coltrane, toddles over and tugs at the hem of my shirt. "Mommy, Daddy says that he's tired from waiting so long. When are you coming home with us?"

The smile on Morgan's face freezes instantly, and he nearly loses his grip on the glass in his hand.

By the time I finished wrapping up the new project I was handling, it was already evening. My husband, Lucian Coltrane, called me and asked me to come to our hotel, saying he had a surprise for me.

I hurried over to our family-owned hotel, only to realize that a business summit was being held there.

The lobby was brightly lit and bustling with people. At a glance, I spotted Morgan Lancaster, my ex-husband whom I hadn't seen in eight years.

Standing beside him was Freya Springer, his childhood sweetheart, and the two of them were smiling as they chatted with the people around them.

A middle-aged man, Harvey Pratt, said to Morgan with a smile, "Mr. Lancaster, you're really soaring high these days. Your company's new office has just opened and all your investment projects have already been snapped up.

"Also, everyone knows how awfully hard it is to make a reservation at this hotel, yet you managed to do it and even host a business summit here. You're truly a role model for the rest of us."

Morgan gave a slight nod, his tone humble. "You're too kind, Mr. Pratt. If you hadn't given me a chance back then, I wouldn't be where I am today."

"Oh, come on now. There's no need to be so humble. I'll need to look to you for guidance in the future," Harvey replied.

Then, someone from the crowd chimed in and asked, "Speaking of which, I heard that you and Ms. Springer have some good news in store for us?"

Morgan glanced sideways at Freya, a smile touching the corners of his eyes. "We're having our wedding on the tenth of next month. Everyone is invited."

The crowd offered their congratulations.

All of a sudden, a tactless comment cut through. "I heard that you've been married before, Mr. Lancaster. Will you be inviting your ex-wife to the wedding?"

The smile on Morgan's face faded at once, and he responded curtly, "There's no need for us to meet again."

The person pressed on, asking, "How could that be? I heard you two were very much in love back then, and she even threw you the wedding of the century."

Freya stepped forward just in time, positioning herself slightly in front of Morgan, and said gently, "That's all in the past. Morgan and I were each other's first love. That marriage was just a misunderstanding."

The others quickly chimed in with agreement, and the topic of conversation swiftly changed.

Standing on the outer edge of the crowd, I thought back to the afternoon Morgan and I registered our marriage. Sunlight had filtered through the leaves and shone down on his face.

He held the marriage certificate for a long time before suddenly lowering his head and smiling at me, saying he had finally married me. His eyes glistened with tears.

Back then, I thought those were tears of happiness. It wasn't until later that I finally understood those tears stemmed from his longing for someone else.

Just as I was about to turn and leave, Morgan suddenly looked over.

"Ms. Smith?"

Morgan stood before me with a glass of champagne in hand, having approached me without my noticing it. His gaze swept over my simple attire, a faint, barely-there smile playing at the corner of his lips.

"My, what an unexpected guest."

His voice wasn't particularly loud, yet it carried clearly enough for those nearby to hear. "How are you qualified to attend this event?"

Before I could give Morgan an answer, Harvey let out a chuckle. "And who might this be, Mr. Lancaster?"

Morgan swirled the champagne in his glass with an air of nonchalance, his tone calm. "Valencia Smith, my ex-wife."

The moment he revealed that I was his ex-wife, the surrounding area fell into a palpable hush. Several pairs of eyes turned toward me, sweeping over me with undisguised scrutiny.

Harvey's expression shifted to one of feigned realization. He deliberately drew out his words. "Ah, so this is Ms. Smith who spent her life's savings on that wedding back then?

"I haven't seen you around. Judging by appearances, things haven't been going too well, I take it? Anyway, you do bear some resemblance to Ms. Springer, don't you?"

Another man in a deep blue suit, Graham Colson, chimed in, "What do you mean they bear a resemblance? This lady looks far shabbier in comparison to Ms. Springer. I'm afraid you're flattering her too much, Mr. Pratt."

Before I could even get a word in, a young woman standing beside Morgan let out a light, tinkling laugh.

"Mr. Colson, that's a bit too harsh, don't you think? Can't you see Ms. Smith is too embarrassed to speak? Besides, perhaps she was just a stand-in Mr. Lancaster found on a whim during a spat with Ms. Springer. It's rather awkward to point it out now."

"Oh, I'm just telling the truth," Graham said.

Then, he walked over and patted me on the shoulder. "So what if you were a stand-in for Ms. Springer? It was still very much a blessing for you, wasn't it?"

Bellows of laughter broke out among the onlookers.

Morgan took a sip of his champagne, neither intervening nor joining in. He simply watched me quietly, a look of smug satisfaction and mockery on his face.

This seemed to encourage Harvey further. "The way I see things, Ms. Smith, you really shouldn't have come today. Look at Morgan's status now. Showing up like this is just asking for humiliation, isn't it?"

Graham pretended to smooth things over. "There, there, Mr. Pratt. Since Ms. Smith is already here, surely we can't let her leave without buying her a drink?

"But of course, Ms. Smith, we understand that the drinks here are probably not what you are accustomed to since they are way out of your spending budget."

A few suppressed chuckles rippled through the crowd.

Finally, Morgan spoke up, his tone gentle yet undeniably distant. "Now, now, everyone, let's not be like this. I did treat Ms. Smith as a substitute back then, but that's all in the past. I was just out to have some fun. Don't take things too seriously."

He looked at me, his eyes devoid of any warmth. "I'll gladly accept it if you're here to offer me your congratulations, Ms. Smith. But if you have any other intentions..."

He paused, and everyone around waited with bated breath for his next words.

"We are no longer the same people we were eight years ago. It's high time you woke up from your dreams. Even if you dressed up as a server to get close to me, you won't get anything out of it."

His words instantly unleashed a wave of mockery. The same people who had once smiled and congratulated us at our wedding now clustered around him, looking at me with a mix of pity, contempt, and blatant glee.

I listened quietly to everything they had to say. As everyone looked on, waiting for my flustered reaction, I merely gave a slight nod.

My gaze swept over each person present before finally settling on Morgan's face. My voice was calm as I asked, "Have you finished talking, Mr. Lancaster? May I leave now?"

My phone buzzed with a message from Lucian.

I couldn't be bothered to explain anything to the crowd before me. After all, the hotel they were in belonged to me.

Morgan was taken aback, his brows furrowing. "Honestly, look at you. You've got so many opportunities right in front of you, yet you don't even try to seize them and just want to leave? After all these years away from me, have you really lost all your ambition?"

Freya interjected softly, trying to defuse the situation. "Don't say that. Perhaps Ms. Smith is simply busy and needs to go for another business meeting. Though, if you need any help, you can always ask us, Ms. Smith. After all, you took care of Morgan for me in the past. I owe you a favor."

Harvey gave me another once-over, curling his lips in disdain. "Still, Ms. Smith, your outfit is rather… plain. Why don't I have my housekeeper lend you one of her dresses? At least it would be more presentable than what you're wearing now."

A wave of laughter erupted around us.

I glanced down at my clothes. They were indeed simple and plain, but Lucian had made them himself.

Despite his overwhelming schedule, he had taken the time to learn how to make them. He had stayed up countless nights just to make me a gift, leaving himself utterly exhausted. I didn't consider it shabby at all.

So I responded calmly, "No, thank you. I don't need it."

Even if I were wearing nothing but a sack, there would still be people clamoring to secure a partnership with me. But to Morgan, my refusal was just stubborn pride.

He frowned and placed a check in front of me. "Fine. Considering we were once married, I'll help you one last time. I wouldn't want people to think my judgment was always so poor."

I looked at the check in his hand and frowned.

It was only 200 thousand dollars. What did he take me for? A beggar?

I pushed the check back toward him and said flatly, "That won't be necessary. You should keep that money for someone who truly needs it. We agreed to go our separate ways long ago. It's best if we have no entanglements whatsoever."

Morgan stood frozen, a flicker of irritation crossing his face. "Valencia, must you draw such a stark line between us?"

I looked at him, at a loss for words. How strange. That was clearly what we had agreed upon back then.

In my previous life, after our marriage, I had been immersed in the joy of finally being his wife. Yet, on our very first night, he had refused to share a bed with me, claiming that he was feeling unwell.

Seeing his somewhat flustered expression now, I found it almost amusing. He was the one who wanted to draw a line between us in the first place, but now, he was blaming me for drawing it too clearly.

I had no patience for this idle chatter and was about to leave when my phone rang again.

This time, Lucian gave me a call. "Hey, honey, where are you? Theo and I are in the back garden of the hotel. He says he wants to see the fountain."

Without me even realizing it, my tone softened. "I'll be right there. Just give me a minute."

After hanging up, I realized Morgan was staring at me with a complex look in his eyes. Then, he suddenly asked in a probing tone, "Was that your new boyfriend?"

Before I could answer, Freya let out a soft laugh. "It seems Ms. Smith has a date waiting. No wonder she's in such a hurry to leave."

Morgan's expression soured at once.

Suddenly, a voice rose from the crowd. "Hey! I just got word that Ms. Smith's husband and son are also at this hotel! Ms. Smith might actually show up here!"

Hearing this, a buzz of excitement began to spread. "Wait, Ms. Smith? You mean the one whose wealth rivals entire nations? Goodness! She's always been so mysterious. Will we actually get the chance to see her today?"

Someone scoffed. "She's the founder of Smith Corporation. This hotel is just something she bought for fun! And her husband, Lucian Coltrane, is every bit her match, if not more!"

"Well, at least that much is true," I thought.

"Look! Someone managed to capture a side profile of Ms. Smith's son! He looks so adorable!"

I frowned. Just as I was about to inquire further, a soft, childish voice called out from not too far away. "Mommy!"

A little boy of about three or four came toddling over and threw his arms around my legs. He was dressed in a finely tailored suit, his hair neatly combed, and his cheeks flushed.

I bent down and scooped him up, gently pinching his cheek. "What are you doing here, sweetheart? Weren't you waiting in the garden with Daddy?"

"Daddy got tired of waiting."

My son, Theo Coltrane, pouted. "He sent me to see why you're still here talking to irrelevant people instead of coming home with us, Mommy."

The scene rendered everyone present utterly speechless.