Framed By My Maid

“The last thing I remembered was the cold, the damp dungeon walls, and the raw, blinding pain as David, the man I loved, cursed me for Bethany' s death. His boot connected with my ribs, a sharp crack echoing in the small cell, as he snarled, "She killed herself because of you... you worthless woman." Broken, stripped of everything, I realized Bethany, my personal maid, had manipulated him, orchestrating her own death to frame me, sealing my fate. His final words, a curse of rot and forgotten names, followed me into the abyss. Then, I opened my eyes. I was in a lavish dressing room, in a stunning wedding gown; it was my wedding day, and my fiancé was David, no longer a brutal general but a charismatic tech CEO. A wave of nausea washed over me, because standing right there, about to be my maid of honor, was Bethany. The cold stone and crushing pain of my past life were vivid, sickeningly real. I was back at the beginning, the very day my destruction had woven its first thread. Clara, my loyal assistant, whispered, "I just saw Bethany... with David. In the garden conservatory. She was... holding onto him, crying. He was stroking her hair. It didn\'t look right." The pieces clicked into place, the exact same betrayal, the same opening act of their cruel play. In their story, I was the villain, the jealous, cruel woman. But this time, I wouldn\'t play my part. I would walk off their stage, and rewrite my own.”