For nearly a decade, I walked through life as Mrs. Hamilton, wife to the charming and successful Ethan. Our perfect marriage was more than a facade; it was my very existence, bound by a secret Soul Pact that determined whether I lived or died. Then, seven days before my designated survival deadline, Ethan casually dropped a bombshell: he needed a temporary divorce for his latest fling, a demanding young intern named Chloe. He offered me designer bags and an unlimited credit card, oblivious that he was asking me to sign my own death warrant, effectively sealing my fate. Chloe, triumphant and venomous, reveled in my humiliation from my very own penthouse, mocking me as "old news" while lounging in my favorite spots. Ethan, valuing his mistress's fleeting whims over my life, eagerly discarded our shared history and sent me away. The chilling countdown from the Soul Pact System inside me confirmed my imminent end-a meticulously "staged accident" awaited. How could someone mistake my life for a casual game, oblivious that his "temporary break" was my permanent end? My heart ached with the profound loneliness of carrying this fatal secret alone, a cruel irony after years of quiet endurance. I died in a fiery crash, right on schedule. But then, a cold, digital voice whispered, "System error. Collect 100 Regret Points from Ethan to be reborn." Now, an unseen spectator, my very existence hinges on the depth of his sorrow.
For nearly a decade, I walked through life as Mrs. Hamilton, wife to the charming and successful Ethan.
Our perfect marriage was more than a facade; it was my very existence, bound by a secret Soul Pact that determined whether I lived or died.
Then, seven days before my designated survival deadline, Ethan casually dropped a bombshell: he needed a temporary divorce for his latest fling, a demanding young intern named Chloe.
He offered me designer bags and an unlimited credit card, oblivious that he was asking me to sign my own death warrant, effectively sealing my fate.
Chloe, triumphant and venomous, reveled in my humiliation from my very own penthouse, mocking me as "old news" while lounging in my favorite spots.
Ethan, valuing his mistress's fleeting whims over my life, eagerly discarded our shared history and sent me away.
The chilling countdown from the Soul Pact System inside me confirmed my imminent end-a meticulously "staged accident" awaited.
How could someone mistake my life for a casual game, oblivious that his "temporary break" was my permanent end?
My heart ached with the profound loneliness of carrying this fatal secret alone, a cruel irony after years of quiet endurance.
I died in a fiery crash, right on schedule.
But then, a cold, digital voice whispered, "System error. Collect 100 Regret Points from Ethan to be reborn."
Now, an unseen spectator, my very existence hinges on the depth of his sorrow.
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