The day I died, I heard my ex-husband’s laughter echoing outside the hospital room. He was picking out wedding invitations with Vivian Monroe. I lay in the ICU with tubes running through my body, dependent on machines just to breathe. And there he stood, just fifteen feet away in the hallway, planning his future with another woman. During our six years of marriage, I helped him take a failing company and turn it into a business with over a hundred million in annual revenue. His reward? A divorce agreement and five words: “You can leave now.” In my previous life, I didn’t sign. I thought if I just held on, he’d eventually remember all I’d done for him. Instead, he had Vivian cut off every escape route I had. I died alone in a rental apartment. The landlord found me three days later. I was still clutching a family photo. The moment I’m reborn, Ethan Shaw sits in his study, sliding a divorce agreement across the desk toward me. “Sign it, Emma. Vivian’s back. It’s time we ended this.” I look at his cold, perfect face and suddenly laugh. In my previous life, I gave everything for you. This time around, I’m going to live for myself. **Chapter 1** “What are you laughing at?” Ethan frowns, clearly finding my reaction abnormal. In my previous life at this moment, I was on my knees begging him not to divorce me. I cried all night, clinging to his legs, promising I could do better. He shoved me away in disgust and said, “You’re pathetic. It makes me sick.” Looking back now, the pathetic one was me. Six years together, six years of sacrifice, and I couldn’t even get a dignified exit. I stop laughing and pick up the pen from the desk. “How much is the settlement?” Ethan freezes. He clearly didn’t expect me to ask about money so directly. The old Emma never talked about money. The old Emma thought talking about money ruined relationships. “Three hundred thousand.” He pushes a bank card across the desk, his voice flat. “Plus a condo downtown. Enough for you to live on.” Three hundred thousand dollars. Six years of my youth, six years of work, forty million in client relationships, thirty-seven late nights saving his business—all worth three hundred thousand in the end. Cheaper than buying wholesale. I don’t negotiate. Not because I’ve given up. Because I know this three hundred thousand will become three hundred million. “I have one condition.” His guard goes up. “What condition?” “Add two hundred thousand to the settlement. Five hundred total.” “Are you kidding me?” His voice rises half an octave. I set down the pen and look him dead in the eye. “Your company went from bankruptcy to a hundred million in revenue because of whose client relationships? You know the answer.” “Five hundred thousand buys out every connection I have with those clients. From now on, I won’t contact them, and they won’t do you any favors because of me.” “Do the math yourself. Is it worth it?” The study falls silent for ten full seconds. Ethan stares at me like he’s seeing me for the first time. Finally, he opens a drawer, pulls out another card, and slides it over. “Fine. Take the money and don’t show your face around me again.” I pocket both cards and sign “Emma Carter” on the divorce agreement. Quick and decisive, without a second of hesitation. When I walk out the front door of the Shaw residence, his driver is already waiting. “Mrs. Shaw—” “No need.” I cut him off and open Uber on my phone. I’m not a Shaw, and I’m nobody’s Mrs. anymore. Starting today, I’m just Emma. **Chapter 2** The Uber drops me at a budget hotel in the city center. I don’t go see the condo Ethan gave me. In my previous life, I lived there for eight months before Vivian kicked me out, claiming “Ethan got this place ready for our wedding.” This time around, I don’t want that apartment. But the money? I’m not giving her a cent. I sit on the hotel bed and pull up my phone, searching for a name: Morgan Hayes. In my previous life, while dying alone in that rental apartment, I stumbled across a news article— “New retail queen Morgan Hayes breaks into the hundred-billion valuation club, named to Forbes Global Business Leaders list.” The article said her company started as a three-person studio, funded by an initial angel investment of five hundred thousand dollars. Lying on that broken bed, I remember thinking: I wish that investor had been me. Now, I have exactly five hundred thousand in my hands. And right now, Morgan Hayes is just a small brand founder who can barely make payroll. I dial her company number. The woman who answers sounds exhausted. “Hello, Vine Design Studio.” “Is Morgan available?” “Speaking.” “Hi Morgan, my name is Emma Carter. I’d like to learn more about your brand and discuss potential investment opportunities.” Silence on the other end for three seconds. Probably been a while since anyone called to discuss “investment.” “You… want to invest in us?” “Yes. Five hundred thousand, angel round. Can we meet today if you’re available?” The next morning, I’m sitting in Morgan’s studio. Calling it a studio is generous—it’s barely three hundred square feet, tables piled with fabric samples and design sketches. Morgan is younger than I expected, not even thirty, her thin face marked by all-nighters. But her eyes are bright. “I’ll be honest, we don’t get many investors.” She smiles somewhat sheepishly. “We’re too small. We haven’t turned a profit yet.” “But I’m confident about this direction. New retail, live-streaming, democratized designer brands—these three trends are going to explode in the next five years.” I nod. I don’t just know they’ll explode. I know exactly which year and which model will break through. “You don’t need to convince me.” I slide the bank card across the table. “Five hundred thousand for 20% equity. Only one condition: all major decisions get discussed with me first.” Morgan stares at the card for a long moment. “Emma, why do you trust me so much?” “Because I’m not investing in a project. I’m investing in a person.” It’s the truth. In my previous life, I watched too many people give up when they couldn’t see the future. Morgan is the type who’ll grit her teeth and push through no matter how hard it gets. After signing the contract, I do something else— I enroll in an executive business management program. In my previous life, everything I learned working alongside Ethan was fragmented and self-taught. This time, I’m going to learn systematically and properly. I can’t survive just by “knowing the future.” Because someone who knows the future but lacks the ability to seize it will still end up with nothing. **Chapter 3** The program meets in a commercial building on the west side of the city. The instructor is a well-known professor in the industry. Tuition is twenty-eight thousand for a three-month session. I pay the fee, collect my materials, and on day one, I sit in the back row right on time. The content is harder than I expected. Business models, financial statement analysis, equity structure design—I recognize every word individually, but together they might as well be hieroglyphics. But I’m not afraid. In my previous life, when I handled client relationships and negotiated contracts for Ethan, I started from zero too. I learned then. I can learn now. After the first class, I’ve filled eight pages of notes. My hand aches, but my heart feels steady. During the break, I head to the restroom and push open the door to see a familiar face. Vivian Monroe. She’s touching up her lipstick at the sink. She spots me in the mirror and her hand pauses. Then she smiles. “Oh, if it isn’t Emma.” She turns around, looking me up and down, her tone dripping with condescending concern. “Didn’t Ethan give you money? What are you doing taking a class like this?” “This kind of high-end executive program isn’t for people like you. Everyone here is a company executive or investor.” She raises an eyebrow, her smile deepening. “You spent six years as a housewife. What could you possibly understand in here?” I shake the water off my hands and grab a paper towel. “You’re right.” She blinks, surprised. “I was a housewife for six years.” I toss the towel in the trash and look her straight in the eye. “But starting today, I’m not anymore.” As I walk out of the restroom, I hear her laughing loudly behind me. Probably wants everyone in the hallway to hear. “Girls, Emma thinks taking one business class will make her an entrepreneur.” “Six years as a housewife, can’t even read a financial statement, and she’s here learning business management—” “Some people just don’t know their own limits.” A few people in the hallway laugh along. I don’t look back. Plenty of people mocked me in my previous life too. But in that life, they were right—I really did have nothing. This time, I’ll make sure they can’t laugh anymore. Back at my seat, I keep organizing my notes. There are concepts I didn’t understand, so I look up explanations on my phone and copy them down word by word. A woman sitting in front of me turns around, glances at my notebook, and looks surprised. “You take really detailed notes.” “I’m behind, so I have to work twice as hard.” She smiles and hands me a business card. “I’m Caroline Reed. I’m an analyst at a private equity fund. Feel free to ask if you don’t understand something.” I take the card and thank her. She’s the first stranger to show me kindness since I was reborn. I tuck the card into my notebook. Kindness is rare. I’ll remember every bit I receive. **Chapter 4** One month later. Morgan sends me a message: “Emma, our first livestream hit a hundred thousand viewers!” I look at my phone and smile slightly. A hundred thousand is just the beginning. In the news from my previous life, Morgan’s first real breakthrough came four months after getting angel funding—a collaborative livestream with a well-known influencer that brought in five million in sales in a single session. I know exactly who that influencer is. Right now, she’s just a small creator with fewer than fifty thousand followers. Her schedule is wide open, and her collaboration fee is practically nothing. I message Morgan: “I’m recommending an influencer—Vivienne Blake. Try doing a collaboration with her.” Morgan: “She only has a few tens of thousands of followers. Will it work?” Me: “Trust me.” She doesn’t ask again. Over this past month, she’s developed a strange trust in me—every direction I recommend turns out remarkably well after execution. She doesn’t know why. But she’s learned one thing: when Emma says something, execute first, understand later. That same afternoon, while I’m reviewing notes in class, my phone buzzes. A text from an unknown number: “Emma, it’s Robert Williams. Heard you left Ethan’s company? I’ve got a project I’d like to discuss with you. Are you available?” Robert Williams. Ethan’s biggest client. In my previous life, it was Robert’s order that kept Ethan’s company alive through its hardest first year. And I was the one who brought in that order. Before getting married, I worked in event management and got to know Robert. He only works with people he trusts, not companies. When he gave Ethan that order, it was 100% because of me. After the divorce in my previous life, Vivian blacklisted me and I was too ashamed to contact anyone. This life is different. “Robert, I’m always available.” That evening, a café. Robert Williams is in his mid-fifties, gray-haired but energetic. The moment he sees me, he slaps the table laughing. “Emma, I knew you’d eventually strike out on your own! Working for Ethan was a waste of your talent.” “I won’t beat around the bush—I’ve got a batch of cultural tourism projects that need execution. I was working with Ethan’s company before, but ever since you left… let’s just say it’s been rough.” He lowers his voice. “Last proposal went through six revisions and still didn’t pass. You in?” I set down my coffee. “Robert, I haven’t registered a company yet. But I can come in as a consultant first and help you build the proposal framework. Once I’m set up on my end, I’ll take all the follow-up projects.” He slaps the table. “Deal! That’s settled then!” Walking out of the café, the night air is cool. In my previous life, I gave all my connections and resources to Ethan for free. He used the network I built to rise to the top. Meanwhile, I shrank smaller and smaller under that same network until I was completely forgotten. This time, I’m weaving the network myself and using it for myself.
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