In her previous life, Samira Jourdain married Jean Zaccaro while living as the fake daughter of the Jourdain Family.

For two whole years after they tied the knot, Jean treated her like she was his everything. He was gentle, thoughtful, always putting her first. Samira genuinely believed he loved her.

And then, out of the blue, everything changed.

Jean grew cold, distant, like someone had flipped a switch. She couldn’t take it anymore and ended up chasing after him to a party, hoping to understand what went wrong.

What she saw there broke her.

Jean was standing with Luna in his arms and Samira, half panicked, half furious, stormed over to confront him.

But before she could say much, Luna’s voice cut through the noise. “Jean only married you to get your signature on the inheritance agreement. You really think someone like him could love you? A vicious woman like that?”

Samira just froze. She turned to Jean, hoping he would say it wasn’t true. Hoping for even a flicker of the man she thought she knew. But all she got was that look; cold, empty, like she didn’t mean a thing to him.

And just like that, the pieces fell into place. The sweet husband, the doting gestures, it was all fake. Her marriage wasn’t built on love. It was revenge. A way to win Luna’s approval.

She was never his choice. Just a tool. A way to keep Luna happy.

Devastated, Samira ran. She didn’t know where she was going, she just wanted to disappear. Her feet carried her to a dark alley somewhere in the city and that’s where it all ended. She was murdered. Brutally. Left in pieces like her life had meant nothing.

And then... she woke up.

She opened her eyes and found herself exactly one week before her death. Sitting at a table. A pen in her hand. An agreement in front of her. And a hand resting gently over hers, guiding her to sign.

“Be good, Samira. Just sign it,” came the soft, familiar voice. It sounded kind. It used to comfort her. Now, it made her skin crawl.

Her heart pounded as she glanced down at the paper. The words on the page were all too familiar, it was that agreement.

The one that stripped her of any claim to the Jourdain Family’s inheritance. The same one she had signed after Jean got her drunk.

And suddenly, all the memories came crashing back. The betrayal. The heartbreak. The blood.

She used to trust him. He was her childhood friend, after all. For the first twelve years of her life, she and Jean were close. They had grown up together. Then everything turned upside down.

Her father brought home another girl one day, a stranger and said she was the real daughter of the Jourdain Family. Her name was Luna. And Samira? She was just the girl who had been standing in the wrong place all this time.

The Jourdain Family didn’t send her away. They let her stay. But Samira always felt the weight of that mistake. So she tried to make things right. She never argued, never asked for more. She let Luna take the spotlight in everything.

But Luna hated her anyway. No matter how kind Samira tried to be, Luna always found new ways to twist things, to make her look bad.

After Luna returned, Samira’s life started to fall apart. Her family, the ones who raised her, turned cold overnight. No matter what happened, they blamed her. They wouldn’t listen, wouldn’t ask questions, they just assumed she was always in the wrong.

And eventually, even Jean, who had always been gentle with her, who used to be on her side, started standing for Luna, defending her without hesitation. He probably didn’t even notice it at first, but to Samira, it felt like the final betrayal.

Then came that night when everything changed.

She was seventeen. Samira, Jean and Luna were kidnapped together. Jean managed to get them out, but the kidnappers caught up quickly. To protect them, he ran off to lead them away, thinking he could buy time. He didn’t get far before he was caught and beaten so badly he passed out.

The last thing he saw before he lost consciousness was someone running toward him. Someone coming to help.

When he opened his eyes again, Luna was the one at his side, injured too. Of course he thought it was her who had saved him. No one told him otherwise.

And when he heard Samira had “run away,” it was like the final nail in the coffin. That was when his feelings turned into pure disappointment. What he never found out was that the person who had actually saved him was Samira.

She had gone back. She’d risked everything. But she got left behind because, by then, her family already saw her as disposable.

After that, they didn’t even try to hide how unwanted she was. They told her to move out like it was nothing.

Years passed. And then, out of nowhere, she was told she was getting married. The man? Jean. She couldn’t believe it. She braced herself for a cold, distant husband, but instead, he treated her with kindness. Just like he used to.

At first, she didn’t trust it. But over time, his warmth chipped away at her walls. She thought maybe he had changed. Maybe he understood now.

One night, she decided to tell him everything, what really happened back then, how she was the one who saved him. He just listened and when she was done, he smiled gently, reached out and patted her head.

“Samira,” he said softly, “I know everything. You’ve suffered so much.”

Those words... they broke her. In a good way. Her heart, which had been numb for so long, finally felt something again.

Since she was twelve, she hadn’t had a real home. But now, with Jean, it felt like maybe she finally had one again.

She didn’t realize then that this new “home” was a lie. A trap dressed in love. What she thought was healing was really just part of a cruel game. And she was the pawn.

But now, she knew. She had already died once, brutally and somehow, she had been given another chance.

This time, Samira wasn’t going to fall for the same illusion. She wasn’t going to waste her life begging for love from people who never truly cared.

All she wanted was a quiet life. Away from the drama. Away from the power plays and cold-hearted betrayals. Just a simple, peaceful life, her own life. And this time, she was going to fight for it.

Jean’s hand covered hers, firm and coaxing, trying to guide the pen in her fingers. But this time, Samira didn’t move. Her mind was sharp. Clear.

She gently pulled her hand back and set the pen down. “Actually,” she said, calm and steady, “I have something for you to sign first. You sign that and I’ll sign this.”

Jean blinked, a little caught off guard, but didn’t hesitate. “Sure. Give it to me, I’ll sign it now.”

Samira walked over to the nightstand and opened the drawer. From inside, she pulled out a document she’d hidden long ago, something she had quietly prepared in her previous life: a divorce agreement.

Back then, she had assumed Jean only married her out of obligation, maybe because of the Jourdain Family’s pressure. She didn’t want to make things harder for him, so she had drawn up the papers just in case.

She never had the heart to use them. But now, it felt like the only thing that made sense.

She laid the agreement down in front of him. Jean didn’t even read it. He just signed his name like it meant nothing, then slid his document in front of her with a glance that said, “Your turn.”

His eyes were focused, a little too eager. And Samira met them evenly.

The agreement she gave him would leave her with nothing, no money, no name, no claim. And Jean didn’t care. All he cared about was getting her signature. Probably so he could run straight back to Luna.

Something bitter twisted in her chest. Of course. That was all she ever was, an obstacle to remove.

She picked up the pen and signed anyway, not because he told her to, but because she was done. Done clinging to things that were never really hers. Not the Jourdain fortune. Not the name. And definitely not Jean.

After signing, she quietly folded the divorce papers and slipped them back into the drawer. That was when Jean finally asked, “Wait, what did I just sign for you?”

Without looking at him, Samira replied, “Divorce agreement.”

He froze for a second, stunned into silence. Then, like he thought she was just being dramatic, he chuckled. “Samira, come on. If you didn’t want to tell me, you could’ve just said so.”

He slung his bag over his shoulder, brushing it off like it was nothing. “Anyway, I’ve got stuff to deal with. Don’t wait up, alright? Go to bed early.”

A few seconds later, she watched through the window as his car pulled out of the driveway. The headlights slowly disappeared into the night, leaving the villa dark and quiet.

Samira stayed there, standing by the nightstand, not moving for a long moment. Her legs felt heavy, like they didn’t quite belong to her.

Then finally, she picked up her phone and made a call. Her voice was cool. Almost too calm. “I need you to prepare a body,” she said. “Same height and build as me.”

Samira had made up her mind, she was going to use that murder to fake her death and disappear for good.

In her last life, after she was killed, she lingered in the world as a spirit for a few days. Long enough to see who had actually done it.

The man was unhinged, clearly unstable. And now, with that memory still sharp in her mind, she knew exactly when and where it would happen again. All she had to do was make sure the fake body was in place at the right time.

After hanging up, her phone buzzed again. Luna had posted something. [My knight finally helped me kick the bad guy out. He said no one will bully me anymore!]

There was a photo attached, just two people leaning on each other. Their faces weren’t visible, but Samira didn’t need to see them.

She knew. The "knight" was Jean and the "bad guy"? That could only be her.

She let out a humorless laugh, bitter and dry. On her fifth birthday, she had worn a princess dress and Jean had knelt in front of her like a little gentleman, promising to protect her forever.

Back then, she believed him. Now, forever felt awfully short.

Samira shut off her phone and lay down, not expecting to sleep, but too drained to do anything else. The next morning, just after breakfast, she got a call. “Ms. Jourdain, the jewelry Mr. Zaccaro bought for you last week has been fully serviced and is ready for pickup.”

For a second, she just stared at the wall, stunned. ‘That ridiculously expensive piece?’

A week ago, she had paused in front of the display, admiring it quietly. She never said she wanted it, but Jean noticed anyway and joined the bidding without a second thought. The price kept climbing. She had tried to stop him.

“Jean, it’s too much. I really don’t need it,” she had said.

But he only smiled and told her, “If you like it, I’ll get it, no matter the cost.”

A week ago, he was still doting on her. Still pretending to care. ‘How has everything flipped so fast?’

“Ms. Jourdain? Hello?” the person on the line asked again.

Samira blinked, then cleared her throat. “Yes. I’m on my way.”

She caught a cab and headed to the auction house. But just as she was about to step out of the car, she froze. Right in front of the doors, she saw them; Jean and Luna walking in together.

They looked close. Comfortable. Like they belonged. She stared at them for a few seconds longer, her hand still on the door handle.

The driver glanced at her through the rearview mirror, probably wondering what the holdup was. Snapping out of it, Samira opened the door and got out. By the time she reached the steps, they were already gone inside.

The moment passed, but the ache in her chest lingered. Something inside her quietly shifted. Maybe it was hope. Or whatever was left of it.

Jean was probably here to buy something for Luna. Samira didn’t want to see them, she just wanted to get the jewelry and leave.

She pulled her hood up, waited a couple minutes just in case, then slipped inside. Avoiding the main showroom, she walked straight toward the reception area, hoping to get in and out without being noticed.

But just as she reached the doorway, she stopped in her tracks. Jean and Luna were already there.

The receptionist stood in front of them, holding the jewelry she had come to pick up. He walked over to Luna, smiling like he was presenting a crown to a queen. “So Mr. Zaccaro picked this out for you? It’s perfect on you, miss. He really knows how to choose.”

Samira didn’t move. She just stood there, hands cold, heart heavy.

She remembered how she missed this call in her previous life. She had been drinking that night, too caught up in heartbreak to answer her phone.

She had no idea back then that this necklace, this ridiculously expensive gift, was never meant for her.

She had thought Jean bought it for her. Worn it like it meant something. But now… now she knew the truth. It had always belonged to someone else.

And just like that, the last two years of her life felt even more hollow. A joke. A pity prize wrapped in silver and lies.

Her throat tightened. She blinked hard, trying to shake it off. She wasn’t going to humiliate herself again, not in front of them.

Without stepping inside, Samira turned around, ready to leave and pretend she never saw anything. But just then, a voice called out behind her. “Samira?!”

It was Luna. Of course it was. Samira froze, shoulders tensing. So much for slipping out unnoticed.

All eyes turned to Samira the moment Luna called out. She stood there awkwardly at the doorway, half her face hidden under her hood like someone who didn’t belong.

And maybe she didn’t.

Looking back on her twenty-two years, Samira realized most of the things that were supposed to be hers had somehow ended up in Luna’s hands.

Luna came over quickly and looped her arm through Samira’s like they were long-lost best friends. “What a surprise! Are you here to shop too?” she asked cheerfully, as if this was just a casual run-in.

Samira didn’t answer. Her eyes shifted to Jean, who was standing off to the side. Their gazes met briefly before he quickly looked away, his expression uneasy.

Samira gave a small, tight smile and looked down. Luna caught that little moment and, never one to miss her cue, put on her soft, trembling voice. “Samira… I’m the one who asked Jean to come with me. Don’t blame him, okay? If you’re mad, be mad at me.”

She even threw in a teary sniff or two, looking every bit the poor, misunderstood girl.

Before Samira could say anything, Jean stepped in, like always. He pulled Luna behind him protectively, as if Samira might attack her or something. His tone was cold, guarded. “I brought Luna here. It’s not her fault.”

Samira stared at him for a second. Then, very quietly, she said, “Did I say I blamed her?”

Jean faltered, caught off guard. Samira let out a soft laugh and shook her head. She had died too quickly in her past life to ever make sense of things. But now, she saw it all clearly.

Ever since the kidnapping, Jean had treated her like a threat. Every time she and Luna were in the same room, his guard went up. He was constantly on edge around her, ready to defend Luna, no matter what.

So all this time, she had thought he loved her, he cared. She had just never put herself in direct comparison to Luna before. If she had, maybe she wouldn’t have wasted so much time convincing herself she mattered.

Samira didn’t want to be part of this triangle anymore. She turned and walked out without another word, leaving whatever “love” they had behind her.

Jean watched her go, his chest tightening at the sight of her walking away; quiet, small, alone. He took a few steps toward her before Luna reached out and held him back.

Outside, the air felt heavier than usual. As Samira stepped off the curb, her eyes landed on a tiny kitten hiding in the grass by the steps. It was filthy, limping and clearly injured.

Alone like that, it probably wouldn’t last long.

She sighed and crouched down beside it, gently reaching out her hand. She couldn’t save everything, but this little life, she could try.

Samira walked over quietly, crouched beside the patch of grass and stretched out a hand, leaving some distance so she wouldn’t scare the kitten off. She waited patiently, saying nothing, just letting it decide if she could be trusted.

That was what Jean saw when he stepped outside.

The sunlight caught Samira just right, softening her edges, like the world itself had slowed down for a second. In front of her was the tiny kitten, hesitant but curious, inching closer.

Jean stood frozen, watching her, something twisting in his chest. She looked so much like the girl from all those years ago, the one who used to follow him around, laughing, fearless.

Next to him, Luna glanced over and noticed the look on his face. Her lips pressed into a thin line.

Right then, the kitten finally came close enough. Samira reached out gently, scooped it up and held it to her chest. She gave it a small smile, the kind you only give something helpless. She turned, ready to leave.

But just as she took a step, someone yanked the kitten from her arms. Startled, she looked up and there was Luna, clutching the kitten like it was hers, eyes wide with fear.

“Don’t hurt it!” Luna shouted, stumbling back a few steps like Samira had tried to attack her.

Jean rushed over, totally confused. Luna was already tearing up, voice trembling.

“It looks like the kitten I used to have when I was little,” she said, holding it close. “I didn’t save it back then... but I want to now.”

Jean’s face shifted like something had clicked in his memory. Samira’s whole body went cold. She remembered that kitten too.

Luna had drowned it in the pond. Samira had seen the whole thing, her twisted smile, the way she didn’t even flinch.

Samira had jumped in after it, desperate to save it, only for Luna to run off and spin the story her way. She told the adults Samira did it. No one asked questions. No one ever did.

Now, looking at Luna with that same fake-innocent look on her face, Samira felt her stomach turn. The kitten meowed again, squirming in Luna’s grip. Samira took a step forward and reached for it.

“Give it back,” she said quietly.

Before she could get close, Jean stepped in and shoved her hard. She hit the ground, hands scraping against the concrete.

“Samira, what’s wrong with you?!” he snapped, his voice sharp, full of anger. She didn’t even look at him. Her eyes were locked on the kitten.

“Give it back,” she said again, louder this time.

Luna shrank away, holding the kitten tighter, like she was scared. Jean immediately pulled her into his arms like he was protecting her from something dangerous.

“I’m calling security,” he muttered, already shouting for help. Samira’s cheek was pressed against the cold floor, the weight of the security guard holding her down.

She didn’t fight it, she just laid there, breathing quietly, the sting in her side nothing compared to the one in her chest.

Jean stood a few feet away, his voice sharp and cold. “Why are you always like this? Wasn’t one cat enough when you were a kid? Now you’re trying to hurt another?”

His eyes were full of disgust. Not confusion, not disappointment, just pure judgment. Then he turned away without waiting for her to speak, slipping his arm around Luna like he was some hero protecting her from a villain.

Samira didn’t look up. She stayed still, listening to their footsteps fade away. The pressure on her arm finally lifted when they were gone. But the weight in her chest stayed.