The world slammed back into me in a dizzying rush. One moment, oblivion. The next, I was back in a familiar bed, the sun warm, the scent of roses faint. My heart seized at the June 12th calendar-the day it all began to unravel in my first life, the day before Richard announced he was funneling our savings into his first love' s art gallery. Then he walked in, handsome and dismissive, still my husband, yet a stranger. The sight of him brought nothing but a hollow echo. I stood by the fireplace, a silent observer as Vivian Hayes, ethereal and artfully fragile, entered the room, captivating Richard with a tenderness he' d never shown me. Later, the final piece of the puzzle clicked into place: a beautifully wrapped gift, a silver hairpin "Heart' s Sorrow," a sketch Vivian had made, fumbled into my hands by a clearly distracted Richard. My husband had handed me a gift meant for his artistic mistress, the one he had always loved more. The bitter taste of betrayal choked me. This time, I closed the box and pushed it back across the table. "I think you' ve made a mistake," I said, my voice clear as a bell, shattering the forced cheer of the family dinner. The silence was deafening, Margaret' s smile frozen, Richard' s jaw tight, Vivian' s face a mask of shock. I placed my napkin on the table, the desire for divorce no longer a desperate plea, but a cold, final business decision. "If you'll excuse me," I said, walking away from the stunned table, leaving behind the wreckage of a life I was no longer willing to live. I was alive, I was back, and this time, I was going to rewrite my own story.
The world slammed back into me in a dizzying rush. One moment, oblivion. The next, I was back in a familiar bed, the sun warm, the scent of roses faint.
My heart seized at the June 12th calendar-the day it all began to unravel in my first life, the day before Richard announced he was funneling our savings into his first love' s art gallery.
Then he walked in, handsome and dismissive, still my husband, yet a stranger. The sight of him brought nothing but a hollow echo.
I stood by the fireplace, a silent observer as Vivian Hayes, ethereal and artfully fragile, entered the room, captivating Richard with a tenderness he' d never shown me.
Later, the final piece of the puzzle clicked into place: a beautifully wrapped gift, a silver hairpin "Heart' s Sorrow," a sketch Vivian had made, fumbled into my hands by a clearly distracted Richard.
My husband had handed me a gift meant for his artistic mistress, the one he had always loved more. The bitter taste of betrayal choked me.
This time, I closed the box and pushed it back across the table. "I think you' ve made a mistake," I said, my voice clear as a bell, shattering the forced cheer of the family dinner.
The silence was deafening, Margaret' s smile frozen, Richard' s jaw tight, Vivian' s face a mask of shock.
I placed my napkin on the table, the desire for divorce no longer a desperate plea, but a cold, final business decision.
"If you'll excuse me," I said, walking away from the stunned table, leaving behind the wreckage of a life I was no longer willing to live.
I was alive, I was back, and this time, I was going to rewrite my own story.
Introduction
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Chapter 1
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Chapter 2
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Chapter 3
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Chapter 4
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Chapter 5
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Chapter 6
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Chapter 7
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Chapter 8
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Chapter 9
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Chapter 10
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Chapter 11
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Chapter 12
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Chapter 13
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Chapter 14
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Chapter 15
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Chapter 16
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Chapter 17
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Chapter 18
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Chapter 19
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Chapter 20
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Chapter 21
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Chapter 22
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Chapter 23
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Chapter 24
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Chapter 25
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Chapter 26
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Chapter 27
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