The poison tasted like bitter almonds and the bitter truth of thirty years. I was Ash Vanderbilt, heir to a fortune, and I lay dying. My husband, Ethan Miller, stood over me, a mask of indifference I'd known for three decades. Thirty years shackled to a man I' d loved with fierce passion, then forced into a marriage he never wanted. Our life together was a wasteland of resentment, his heart always belonging to Brittany Larson. Now, he was finally free. With my last ounce of strength, I lunged, plunging a letter opener into his chest. His gasp was raw, his eyes wide, not with anger, but profound, heartbreaking sorrow. "Ash, no," he choked out, pressing a vial to my lips. "It wasn't me. I was trying to help you. Antidote... someone else..." He slumped beside me, the vial rolling away, his last words echoing as the world went dark. Misunderstanding. A monstrous, colossal misunderstanding. I had just killed the man who had been trying to save me all along. Then, I awoke with a gasp, the scent of salt air filling my lungs. My head throbbed, and the sunlight streamed through the familiar Hamptons beach house window. It was the morning after I had cornered Ethan, leveraging every Vanderbilt debt, forcing him to propose. Thirty years before I died. Rebirth. It was real. I was back. The crushing weight of that final, horrifying revelation pressed down on me. This time, I would break the cycle of misery. I would free him from a marriage he never wanted. And this time, I would choose myself.
The poison tasted like bitter almonds and the bitter truth of thirty years.
I was Ash Vanderbilt, heir to a fortune, and I lay dying.
My husband, Ethan Miller, stood over me, a mask of indifference I'd known for three decades.
Thirty years shackled to a man I' d loved with fierce passion, then forced into a marriage he never wanted.
Our life together was a wasteland of resentment, his heart always belonging to Brittany Larson.
Now, he was finally free.
With my last ounce of strength, I lunged, plunging a letter opener into his chest.
His gasp was raw, his eyes wide, not with anger, but profound, heartbreaking sorrow.
"Ash, no," he choked out, pressing a vial to my lips. "It wasn't me. I was trying to help you. Antidote... someone else..."
He slumped beside me, the vial rolling away, his last words echoing as the world went dark.
Misunderstanding. A monstrous, colossal misunderstanding.
I had just killed the man who had been trying to save me all along.
Then, I awoke with a gasp, the scent of salt air filling my lungs.
My head throbbed, and the sunlight streamed through the familiar Hamptons beach house window.
It was the morning after I had cornered Ethan, leveraging every Vanderbilt debt, forcing him to propose.
Thirty years before I died.
Rebirth. It was real. I was back.
The crushing weight of that final, horrifying revelation pressed down on me.
This time, I would break the cycle of misery.
I would free him from a marriage he never wanted.
And this time, I would choose myself.
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