After my rebirth, I made a solemn vow: I would no longer chase Caleb Vance. When he erected a sign at his birthday party that read, "No dogs or Peyton Reed allowed," I booked a one-way ticket to Hawaii to put an ocean between us. When he complained that the very scent of me in his house made him sick, I obediently packed my bags and moved out. When he declared that after graduation, he couldn't stand to breathe the same city's air as me, I vanished without a trace. And finally, when he said my very existence made his first love, Fiona, "uncomfortable," I simply nodded and, not long after, posted a picture with a new man. Over and over, I made the opposite choice I had in my past life. Because in that life, I got my wish. I married Caleb Vance. And on our wedding day, his beloved Fiona leaped from a cliff to her supposed death. He called me a murderer. He tormented me, abused me, and in the end, left my body to be swallowed by the sea. This time, all I want is to live. Later, when I was holding my new boyfriend's hand, Caleb blocked my path, his eyes a startling, bloodshot red. "Peyton," he rasped, his voice breaking. "Come back with me right now, and I'll forgive you for this little joke." 1 "Peyton Reed and dogs are not permitted." Staring at the familiar, cruel sign, I began to weep with pure, unadulterated joy. My name, Peyton Reed, was being equated with a stray dog, a public humiliation. But no one could possibly understand the elation flooding my soul. Because I was reborn. I had returned to the day of my fiancé Caleb Vance's birthday. In everyone's eyes, I was unworthy of him. My family background, my looks—in every conceivable way, I was worlds beneath him. He was the golden heir to the Vance fortune, the prince of Astoria. I was an orphan with no one to my name. A single, foolish childhood promise had bound us together for over two decades. Everyone felt sorry for Caleb. Including him. And so, he had this sign erected, barring the door to me as I stood there in my carefully chosen evening gown. "Peyton, it's not us. This is Caleb's decision," one of his best friends said, his face a cold mask as he relayed the message. "Don't make this difficult for us. It won't look good for you." Flanking him were security guards armed with tasers. All this pomp and circumstance, just to keep me out. Everyone knew the depths of Caleb's loathing for me. In my last life, I didn't get into the party either. I waited by the gate like a pathetic dog, from sunup to sundown, until I collapsed from a fever brought on by the freezing night. When Caleb's parents found out, they disciplined him and pushed our wedding forward. On the day we were married, his one true love, Fiona Young, threw herself from a cliff. In the eyes of Caleb and his loyal clique, I was the murderer. And Caleb avenged his lost love. He subjected me to years of cold silence, of withering neglect, of methodical, soul-crushing abuse. I pleaded for a divorce countless times, but he refused, sneering that he would drag me through hell until I died. I experienced what it was like to be ignored, to be invisible, to be treated as less than human for twenty long years. Finally, my mind shattered. I threw myself into the ocean and let the waves take me. The cruelest joke of all? In my final moments, as my soul clung to the living world, I saw her. I saw Fiona Young return to the country in a blaze of glory and fall into Caleb's arms. She wasn't dead. She was thriving, an internationally acclaimed designer. Her tragic, long-delayed romance with Caleb was celebrated by the world. From beginning to end, I was the only fool. This time, I would live for myself. And I would stay far, far away from Caleb Vance. 2 Under a sea of astonished gazes, I turned and walked away without a backward glance. Back at the Vance estate, I stripped off the suffocating gown. Everyone knew I was Caleb's devoted puppy. When it came to him, I always went a hundred steps beyond what was necessary, planning every detail of his life to perfection. He had mentioned more than once that he was exhausted from work and needed a break. So, I had meticulously arranged a trip to Hawaii, coordinating it with his schedule, all because he'd once said he missed the beaches and the ocean there. Of course, in my previous life, he never went to Hawaii. He chose to go camping with Fiona instead. I was ordered to tag along. When a torrential downpour started, he sent me to find a bracelet Fiona had dropped. I slipped, tumbled down a ravine, and broke my leg. I spent the next two months rotting in a hospital bed. I never wanted to feel that rock-bottom desperation again. Getting away from Caleb was the first step. I quickly packed a suitcase and headed downstairs with my ID and passport. Just then, Caleb stormed in, still dressed in his party suit. The moment he saw me, he let out a cold, mocking laugh, snatched my suitcase, and hurled it to the floor. I frowned. "What are you doing?" "What am I doing? Peyton, what the hell are you doing?" he shot back. "How old are you? Still playing the runaway game? What's next, a suicide note?" He was breathing heavily, his face a mask of disgust. "Are you that childish, Peyton? Trying to threaten me with suicide again?" I patted the dust off my suitcase and asked, word by word, "Who told you I was going to kill myself?" People like him and Fiona, with hearts of stone, lived long and happy lives. I had fought my way back to the land of the living. Why on earth would I throw it away? Caleb just sneered, his eyes dripping with contempt. Fiona, who had followed him in, spoke softly. "Peyton, dear, if you wanted to come to the party, you should have just talked to Caleb. You two grew up together like brother and sister. He wouldn't have really kept you out." She paused, her voice taking on a knowing edge. "Using that kind of threat works once, but twice, and you're just crying wolf." Her insinuation hung in the air, and Caleb's expression grew even more hateful. A jumble of memories assaulted me. I suddenly remembered. In high school, after he and Fiona started dating, he became a different person. Furious, I'd left a dramatic note saying I was going to find a river to jump into. The incident terrified his parents. They forced him to break up with Fiona. From that day on, Caleb despised me. He ignored me, refused to speak to me. When Fiona's friends isolated and bullied me, he turned a blind eye. I looked him straight in the eye and explained, "You're overthinking it. I have no intention of killing myself. I'm packing to catch a flight to Hawaii." He laughed, a short, sharp bark, as if I'd just told the world's worst joke to save face. Fiona tugged on his sleeve. "Caleb, why don't we just let her come with us? She looks so pitiful like this." His brow furrowed, and he looked like he was about to relent. "No, thank you," I said again. "I'm going to Hawaii." Caleb's handsome face twisted. "You hear that? The lady is going to Hawaii!" "Peyton, this is not the time to be unreasonable," Fiona sighed, stepping forward to take my arm. In a place no one could see, her perfectly manicured nails dug deep into my flesh. The sharp pain made me flinch, and I shoved her away. Fiona crumpled to the ground, clutching her hand as if mortally wounded, her eyes wide with disbelief, her lip trembling. "Peyton... you..." 3 "Peyton, you're asking for it!" Caleb exploded, shoving me with even greater force. The back of my head cracked against the corner of a stair step, and a wave of dizzying pain washed over me, blacking out my vision. I could hear his voice roaring over me. "Have you gotten addicted to bullying people?! Being in the same house with an ungrateful viper like you taints the very air! It makes me sick!" Fighting through the pain, I cut through his increasingly venomous tirade. "I'll move out. You can rest easy." "You'd better mean it." All of Caleb's rage seemed to get caught in his throat. He glared at me, a look of pure hatred on his face, before scooping Fiona into his arms and storming away. I touched the back of my head, my fingers coming away sticky with blood. A strange memory surfaced. When I was fifteen, my relationship with Caleb was nowhere near this toxic. Knowing we were destined to be married, to become a real family, I used to follow him everywhere. He was in his rebellious phase, sneaking off to seedy internet cafes to play games, and I'd tag along. One day, he got into a fight over a game. I tried to intervene and got my hand slashed by accident. In that instant, Caleb had transformed into a feral beast, beating a boy much larger than him until he was crying for mercy. The man who once flew into a rage if I so much as scraped a finger would now hurt me, curse me, and wish me dead for someone else, without a second thought. But it didn't matter anymore. Once his parents returned, our engagement would be over. I looked at a nearby maid, forcing a pained smile. "Can you take me to the hospital? I can pay you." A young, new maid looked like she was about to help, but an older servant quickly pulled her back. Their hushed whispers still reached my ears. "Are you trying to get fired?" "Don't you know how much the young master despises Miss Peyton?" "If he saw you helping her, you'd be out on the street!" The young maid, terrified, glanced at me one last time before scurrying away. I shook my head with a bitter smile and crawled over to retrieve my phone with its shattered screen. Caleb's parents were away on business most of the year, only home for a few days each month. Caleb was the sole master of this house. He'd told me more than once: I wasn't a Vance, and my problems were my own. So, no one dared to approach me. Every time I came home, any leftovers were already scraped into the trash. The plates on the table were always empty. Thankfully, I was used to it. I managed to get myself to the hospital. The doctor said I had a concussion and needed to stay for observation for two days. After being discharged, I returned to the Vance estate to pack the rest of my things. The maids watched with cold indifference as I struggled alone. That afternoon, I moved everything into a small apartment I'd hastily rented. It was temporary. Once I had my diploma, a job offer, and the engagement was officially broken, I could leave this place and everyone in it behind for good. On my third day away from the estate, Caleb called. He sounded drunk. "Where are you?" "VIP room A12. Get over here." I was in the middle of writing my resume, and the interruption was irritating. "Caleb, is there something you need?" The line went silent. Even the boisterous background noise seemed to quiet down. I said "hello" again. When there was no answer, I prepared to hang up. Suddenly, he spoke again. "Peyton, where did you go?" I started typing again, setting the phone on speaker beside me. "Didn't you say that living in the same house with me made the air feel disgusting?" I said casually. "So I moved out. Don't worry, I'm not coming back." The man's breathing grew heavier, then he let out a sudden, cold laugh. "Peyton, when did you become so obedient? Weren't you the one who used to cling to me relentlessly?" "Since you're so damn obedient now, if I told you to leave this city, to get the hell out of my sight, would you do it?!" "Peyton, I don't care what game you're playing, but if you keep targeting Fiona, I swear I'll make you regret it." My mouse was acting up, and I was focused on the screen. It took me a moment to process what he'd said. Caleb's mocking voice came through the phone again. "What, nothing to say? Aren't you tired of these pathetic little games? Apologize to Fiona, and I'll allow you to crawl back here." I spoke slowly and clearly. "Fine. I promise you, Caleb. I'll leave." And with that, before he could react, I hung up.
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