In the fifth year of my marriage to Liam Sterling, the girl he had been keeping in a luxury penthouse was exposed. The scandal was everywhere—TMZ, Page Six, every social media feed. To protect her from being labeled a "homewrecker," Liam came to me with divorce papers. He said, "Mr. Miller saved my career years ago. On his deathbed, he asked me to look after Clara. Now that this scandal is out, I can’t just leave her to drown." For years, Clara had always been Liam’s first choice. In my past life, I collapsed when I heard those words. I screamed, I fought, and I refused to let go. I spiraled into a deep clinical depression. Liam, influenced by Clara’s whispered comment that "Elena doesn't look like she's actually sick," decided I was faking it to trap him. He framed me for an affair and sued for divorce. Back then, I finally realized I could never compete with a "debt of gratitude." I ended my life in despair. But now, I’ve opened my eyes again. This time, I signed the papers without a second thought. 01 "Elena, once this storm blows over, we’ll get married again, okay?" I was sitting on a stone bench in our Hamptons estate, staring into space, when Liam appeared with Clara. Just three hours ago, the paparazzi had leaked photos of Clara leaving Liam’s hotel suite. The internet was digging into her past, calling her a mistress and the reason for the downfall of the "perfect Sterling marriage." Liam’s "devoted husband" image was shattered, and Sterling Group’s stock was plummeting. In my previous life, when Liam brought these papers, I was so filled with rage that I tore up every rose he had planted for me in this garden. I demanded to know what Clara really meant to him. She was just his mentor’s daughter. There were a thousand ways to solve the PR crisis. But he chose to sacrifice me. He did it simply because he didn't want Clara's depression to worsen. He didn't know that while the scandal was fermenting, I had already been diagnosed with severe clinical depression myself. "Elena." Liam called my name again, pulling me back from my thoughts. I looked down at the divorce settlement on the stone table. He knelt at my feet, his dark, deep eyes looking up at me, his warm palms covering my cold hands. His voice was coaxing. "Elena, just do this for me, please? We’ll tell the public our marriage has been over for a year. We’ll say we were just waiting for the right time to announce the divorce." I remained silent. Behind him, Clara stood in a white silk dress, Liam’s coat draped over her shoulders. Her face was pale, her eyes red-rimmed. "Elena, please help me," Clara whispered. "My mother took her own life because of cyberbullying and depression. I don't want to end up like her. Elena... I’ll get on my knees if I have to. Just please..." As she started to bend her knees, Liam stood up instantly, catching her and pulling her protectively into his arms. His face darkened as he snapped, "What are you doing?" Clara choked back a sob, looking fragile. "I... I just wanted Elena to feel better." Liam’s expression shifted to impatience as he looked back at me. The tenderness was gone. "Elena, I’m not here to negotiate. I’ve already made my decision. If you won't sign, don't blame me for—" I looked him in the eye, and he stopped mid-sentence. But I knew what he was going to say. He was going to say: "Elena, you know what I’m capable of. I have a thousand ways to make you sign. If we go to court, you’ll never beat the Sterling Group’s lawyers." That’s what he said in the last life. Later, he staged a scene where I woke up in a hotel with male models, making the "affair" undeniable. Overnight, I became the "unfaithful wife," while he and Clara became the innocent victims. "I’ll sign," I said after a long silence. "But you have to promise me one thing." 02 Liam nodded immediately. He handed me a pen. I took it and signed my name on the lines without a single tremor in my hand. "Don't you want to read the terms?" Liam frowned. I let out a soft, hollow laugh. "No need." He was basically leaving with nothing, giving me almost all the marital assets. He was willing to lose everything just for Clara, just for that "debt of gratitude." "Set a time with the lawyers tomorrow to finalize the filing," I said. "Okay," Liam replied. His hand hesitated as he took the papers back. He looked at me with a hint of confusion, but in the end, he said nothing. As they turned to leave, Clara looked back over her shoulder. Her lips curved into a silent, mocking smirk: You lost. I had lost. I lost an entire lifetime. That’s why I didn't care about winning this time. A few minutes later, my phone lit up. It was a text from Liam. [I know this is hard for you, Elena. I’m sorry.] [Once this is over, I’ll give you the wedding of your dreams. We’ll start over.] [I couldn't just watch Clara spiral. You’re strong, you can understand me, right?] I looked at the screen and laughed until tears pricked my eyes. It was the same in the last life. To force the divorce, Liam had consulted his friends and gotten drunk. But he forgot that his friends were my friends too. Marcus had spent half his time telling Liam not to throw away his marriage for Clara, and the other half trying to convince me to "understand" Liam because he was a man of "honor and loyalty." If Clara’s father hadn't invested in Liam’s startup years ago, Liam wouldn't be the man he is today. Back then, I had cried and screamed, "Liam could have cleared her name a thousand ways! Why does it have to be a divorce?" Marcus had gone quiet. He eventually told me what Liam had said: "I have to let someone down. It has to be Elena. She loves me; she’s the only one who will understand." Because I loved him, I was the one to be sacrificed. What kind of twisted logic was that? Fortunately, I had a second chance. 03 Liam always moved fast when it came to Clara. The papers were signed in the morning, and by evening, he had organized a press conference. He sent his assistant to "invite" me to attend. I hadn't even opened my mouth before the assistant, assuming I would refuse, relayed Liam’s message. "Ms. Miller, you should be there. If not for Mr. Sterling’s sake, then for your own reputation." I stared at him for a second and then scoffed. Liam was threatening me. He was trying to use the same tactics from the last life—throwing dirt on me and letting me drown in public scrutiny until I had no choice but to bow my head. I never understood if Liam saw me as a wife or an enemy. But if he wanted to clarify our relationship, I was more than happy to oblige. The press conference was held in the ballroom of Manhattan’s most luxurious hotel. The room was packed with high-profile journalists. When Clara appeared, dressed in an elegant silk gown and leaning on Liam’s arm, the reporters swarmed them. Liam instinctively shielded Clara, waving off the microphones with a practiced smile. "I will answer every question in due time. For now, please, give us some space." His voice was steady. When he looked up, his eyes met mine. I was surrounded by reporters in the middle of the room. For a split second, a ghost of an old hope flickered in me—the hope that he might step forward to help me. But in the next second— He shifted his gaze away. With a smile, he led Clara onto the stage as if he hadn't seen me at all. I curled my lip in a silent sneer. A young intern reporter near me timidly held out a mic. "Ms. Miller, is it true? Are you and Mr. Sterling really getting a divorce?" "Yes," I replied, a bright smile on my face. The intern pushed up her glasses. "But you and Mr. Sterling met in college. Seven years of dating, five years of marriage... and just last month, he bought an island in your name." I kept smiling, though it didn't reach my eyes. "That was a debt he owed me." Liam had missed my birthday to take care of a "sick" Clara. The island was his way of making up for it. In my last life, I had been so proud of that island. I only found out later that the idea came from Marcus, the island was picked by Liam’s assistant, and Liam didn't even know where it was on a map. "Do you... still love him?" the reporter asked. The room went quiet. Even Liam, on the stage, turned to look at me. His brow furrowed slightly. I looked at him calmly and spoke clearly into the microphone. "Not anymore." 04 I didn't stay for the end. Once Liam announced that our marriage had "ended in spirit" a year ago, I walked out. Overnight, I became the "discarded wife," while Clara became the only innocent victim in this drama. The interview was pinned at the top of every social media platform for days. Liam’s statement was played on loop: "Elena and I decided to split a year ago. We wanted to keep it private, but now that an innocent person is being dragged into this, we had to speak up. Clara is not a 'mistress.' She is my mentor's daughter, his only legacy. Looking after her is my duty. I hope everyone can be rational about this." Fans were led to believe that I was the problem—that I was too "narrow-minded" to accept their "pure, sibling-like" bond. They called me petty. They said I didn't deserve Liam’s "loyalty and honor" after five years of marriage. The topic trended for a week. I was the villain. When we walked out of the lawyer's office after the final filing, Liam stopped me. "Don't take what they say online to heart, Elena. People have short memories. They’ll forget soon." I stopped and let out a short, sharp laugh. We were both being dragged on social media, yet the way he handled it for Clara versus me was night and day. "Elena, it’s almost Christmas," Liam said. "Early next year, let’s go get our licenses again. We'll remarry." He moved toward me, but I stepped back. I looked past him toward the paparazzi being held back by security. Liam realized he was being too public and stopped. "Liam, I’m moving to Boston." "You haven't been back there in a long time. It'll be good for you. After New Year's, I’ll fly up and bring you—" "I’m not coming back," I interrupted calmly. The faint smile on his face froze. Confusion clouded his eyes. I continued, "When I agreed to sign the papers, you promised me one thing. It’s time to keep it." Liam stared at me, waiting. In the few seconds after my rebirth, I had processed all my love and hate for this man. When I first saw the divorce papers, part of me wanted to go insane, to rip them up and scream. But logic won. I smiled at him one last time. "Liam, I want you to stay out of my life. Forever." 05 As I walked away into the crowd, Liam stood frozen. For a moment, he felt a strange, cold panic, as if he were losing the most valuable thing he owned. It reminded him of how I had signed the papers—quietly, without a fight. It was as if I had already foreseen the end. Just a few weeks ago, I had thrown a fit because he forgot my birthday. I had even slapped him. He had expected me to go nuclear when he suggested a "fake" divorce. He was ready for the screaming. But I hadn't screamed. I had just picked up the pen, my expression as still as a dead lake. He had wanted to stop me for a split second, but he didn't. He told himself it was fine. Elena loved him. It was just a temporary divorce. He would make it up to her. But Clara was different. He couldn't let her get hurt because of him. If her father hadn't seen Liam’s potential and risked his own board seat to invest in Liam’s first project, Liam wouldn't be a New York titan today. He wouldn't have been "good enough" for someone like Clara. Mr. Miller’s dying wish was for Liam to protect her. He didn't want to be a man without honor. Marcus had once asked him, "If Elena and Clara both fell off a cliff, who would you save?" Liam had laughed then. He thought the question was beneath him. He said he’d save Clara, but he’d jump off the cliff to die with Elena. Marcus had laughed with him, but then asked, "What if Elena doesn't want to die?" "Liam, don't take Elena’s love for granted. If she can't feel your love, she’ll give up." Liam hadn't taken the warning seriously then. He didn't realize it was a prophecy. 06 That night, Liam went back to the villa. Since our wedding, I had lived in this house tucked away in the hills. I was a successful artist. At eighteen, I had been hailed as a prodigy for my ethereal landscapes. Everyone thought I would be the next big thing in the art world, and for a while, I was. But after marriage, my style changed. It lost its soul. My mentors tried to help me, but the effect was minimal. Eventually, I stopped painting altogether. I grew to hate the brush. Liam walked into my studio. He froze when he saw the canvas on the easel. It was a landscape. A few strokes, but it was breathtakingly alive. The housekeeper, Mrs. Gable, saw the light and walked in. "Mr. Sterling?" Liam turned. "When did she paint this?" "The day you brought Ms. Vance home," she replied. Liam nodded. He tried to smile, but his face felt stiff. He went to my bedroom. He kept telling himself this was just a "fake" divorce. As soon as the PR fire was out, he would propose again. He’d give me a wedding that would be the talk of the century. But his chest felt hollow. He dismissed my final words as just "anger." This was our home. Why wouldn't I come back? A knock at the door broke his thoughts. It was Clara. She was wearing a thin silk robe, her cheeks flushed. She stood in the doorway, watching him. "What are you doing here?" Liam asked. Clara bit her lip. "I was scared staying at the hotel alone. So I came here." She lowered her eyes. "Am I... disturbing you?" Liam’s brow furrowed, but he sighed. "It’s fine. It’s late." "I’ll have Mrs. Gable get a guest room ready." As he turned to call the housekeeper, Clara stepped into the room. She looked at Liam with eyes full of longing. "Liam... I don't want the guest room." "Can I...?" she whispered. Liam’s frown deepened. He opened his mouth to say no, but seeing her red-rimmed eyes, his heart softened again. 07 When my plane landed in Boston, Silas was there to pick me up. Ten years ago, when he was eighteen, Silas had saved a girl from an assault, only to be falsely accused of the crime himself. He served three years in prison. With a criminal record, no company would hire him. I met him at an art gallery. He never spoke to anyone; he always kept his head down. One night, on my way home, I was cornered by some thugs. Silas happened to be passing by. I thought he would just keep walking. But he didn't. He didn't hesitate for a second. Afterward, I asked him, "What if I accused you too?" He gave a bitter smile. "Then I’d just accept it." I used my family’s influence to clear his name. On the day the truth came out, he stood in the distance, watching me through the crowd with red eyes. He bowed deeply in thanks. Prison hadn't broken his kindness. My father, grateful for Silas saving me, offered him a job. He started at the bottom, and now, he was my father’s most trusted right hand. "Miss Vance, long time no see." Silas, dressed in a sharp overcoat, took my suitcase. I nodded, feeling a sudden lump in my throat. Five years ago, when I married Liam and moved to New York, Silas had been sent to London for corporate training. I hadn't seen him since before I "died" in my last life. "Are you staying this time?" he asked. "I'm staying," I said. Silas smiled. "Mr. Vance is very happy you’re home." I felt a pang of guilt. My hands tightened in my pockets. In the last life, when the divorce scandal broke, my father had flown to New York immediately. He had begged me: "Liam Sterling doesn't know your worth." "He’d rather work with that old man Miller than accept your help. He says he doesn't want to 'rely' on you, but isn't relying on the Millers the same thing?" "Elena, just leave him. He isn't the one." He wanted to bring me home to Boston. But I refused. I cried and screamed that I loved Liam and wouldn't leave. "Why should I be sacrificed for his 'debt'? Even if he kills me, I’m not leaving." My father was so angry and heartbroken that he had a massive heart attack. He was in the ICU for weeks. My mother’s hair turned white overnight. When my father finally woke up, he didn't say a word to me. I knew I had failed him. My mother had warned me before she left: "Your father never interfered with your choices, Elena. But Liam Sterling is not a good man." I hadn't listened. I had hit the "dead end" at full speed. It took losing my life to finally understand. "Are they okay?" I asked Silas. He nodded. "The company is thriving. Your parents are healthy." I smiled, looking at his calm eyes. "Thank you, Silas." Thank you for looking after them when I was gone. Silas shook his head. He said it was his duty. If my father and I hadn't pulled him out of the gutter, he would have been dead years ago.
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