At the request of my best friend Lydia Moore, I found myself navigating the complexities of a world where love came after marriage, tasked with winning over one of two brothers. Lydia chose to marry the gentle painter Vincent West, while I opted for his dark and enigmatic younger brother, Dylan West. Three years later, I became the president’s wife of West Group, draped in clothes worth millions of dollars and surrounded by luxury cars and mansions. Lydia, however, found herself caring for Vincent who had given up his inheritance and now walked with a limp, struggling with daily life. When Lydia approached me, asking me to get divorced together, I refused. Before I could explain, she grasped my hand and pulled me to jump off a building together. When I opened my eyes again, we were back at the moment of making a choice. This time, she didn’t hesitate for a second and decided to pursue the younger brother. Great! This lifetime, I could finally choose to enjoy my life to the fullest. At the West family banquet, my best friend Lydia, dressed modestly, entered with Vincent, who walked with a limp. I, on the other hand, was adorned in jewels, sitting next to Dylan, exuding sophistication. Lydia’s gaze settled on me, her eyes flickering with undefined emotions. “It’s been a long time. Can we catch up?” I nodded, and we made our way to the penthouse of the villa. She locked her eyes on mine, demanding with urgency, “Megan, after all these years, why haven’t you visited? Not even a phone call?” “It’s complicated. I wanted to see you, but…” Before I could finish, she grabbed my hand, pleading, “Megan, I want a divorce. Let’s do this together? The System says if you get divorced too, I can escape this world. I really can’t care for that crippled loser any longer.” Hope ignited within me as I asked, “If you leave, can I too?” She hesitated and replied, “You’ll have to wait for the next traveler to arrive…” I shook my head firmly. “You dragged me into this game for the thrill, and now that you want to leave, you expect to abandon me?” In a shocking twist, she seized my hand and pulled me backward. “Then let’s die together!” I felt a sharp pain before darkness enveloped me. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the moment of choice. Next to me, Lydia was gleefully addressing the System, “I choose to marry Dylan.” She winked at the stoic Dylan, who remained unreadable. “Megan, what about you?” With a gentle smile, I replied, “I’ll marry Vincent.” At that moment, Vincent was still uninjured, standing tall and handsome, offering me a brief nod. The System said, “Choices are final and cannot be changed.” That day, a butler took us to obtain our marriage licenses. At the West Manor, their mother, Fiona West, delivered a stern lecture. “From now on, you are part of the West family. If not for the betrothal your ancestors arranged, your backgrounds wouldn’t even qualify you to serve us. Behave yourselves.” Her eyes narrowed at Lydia. “Especially you—being the president’s wife of West Group isn’t easy.” With excitement, Lydia replied, “No problem!” After the lecture, I headed back to Vincent’s current apartment while Lydia remained at the West Manor. As I observed her urging me out the door, I kindly warned, “Fiona seems tough; be careful.” “Yeah, yeah, I got it. Don’t dawdle, just go back!” she replied, waving me off impatiently. I glanced back at the West Manor, its opulent architecture shining in the light, the tall gates towering over me. The driver took me to Vincent’s apartment. Upon entering, I found the design simple yet warm, sunlight pouring through the glass and filling the space with golden warmth. “Ms. Fox, Mr. Vincent West is currently busy with art training and may not return for a while. He said you can make yourself comfortable.”
I nodded and began packing my bags, intending to buy a couple of outfits when I discovered that the wardrobe was already stocked with clothes that perfectly suited me. There was even a bank card tucked inside. Vincent truly was a considerate and thoughtful person. At this point, Vincent hadn’t completely relinquished his shares in the West family, so my finances were looking quite comfortable. I decided to enroll in a painting class since I had always loved to paint. In my past life, I had wanted to pursue Vincent, but Lydia had begged me to help her win over the gentle artist Vincent. Reluctantly, I had chosen to pursue the dark and brooding Dylan instead, and I’d regretted that decision countless nights. The next day, I donned a simple pair of jeans and a T-shirt, took the card, and headed to the city’s largest mall to buy some watercolor supplies. To my surprise, I ran into Lydia, who was shopping with a posse of bodyguards. She was clad in an expensive dress, her hair recently styled—a complete transformation from the day before. “Hey, Megan! Did you not recognize me? One day apart and you’ve already forgotten!” she said playfully before remembering something. “After you left yesterday, Mom took me for several spa treatments. Today, she even gave me a black card to shop for clothes. “She said a president’s wife needs to look the part,” Lydia added, eyeing me up and down. Then she continued, “Now that you’re Vincent’s wife, dressing like this isn’t quite fitting. How about I help you pick out a few outfits?” “Really? That would be fantastic!” Expecting me to decline or blush in embarrassment, she was taken aback when I gladly accepted her offer and led her to the mall’s high-end store. “I want that bag.” I pointed to a limited-edition handbag displayed on the top shelf. The sales associate looked me over with disdain. “Miss, that bag is out of stock. You might want to look at something else.” I knew that bag was a limited release—only five in existence worldwide. Lydia flashed a proud smile and walked over, reciting a number to the sales associate. Immediately, the associate’s demeanor changed to one of sycophantic eagerness, and she brought the bag to us while inviting us to the VIP lounge to relax. I shook my head. “No thanks; I have things to do today. Just wrap the bag up for me.” Turning to Lydia, I said, “Let’s use your card.” Lydia frowned, seeming displeased with my nonchalant attitude, “Megan, what’s with your tone?” Feigning innocence, I replied, “But you said I could buy whatever I wanted. After all, you are the president’s wife—certainly, you can afford a bag, right?” The staff, hearing she was the wife of West Group’s president, suddenly looked at her with new interest. Lydia raised her chin haughtily. “I can afford it, but with your attitude, I’ve changed my mind about treating you.” Oh, this was perfect. I quickly squeezed out a couple of tears. “Lydia, we’re not just friends—I’m also the wife of your husband’s brother! You can’t treat me like this, especially after saying you’d buy it for me. Now you’re backing out? “You just want to see me embarrassed. You want me to beg you? Well, forget about it!” With that, I rushed out, leaving Lydia surrounded by shocked onlookers. In the world of the wealthy, information travelled fast, and this incident would undoubtedly reach Fiona’s ears. She, who cared deeply about her reputation, wouldn’t let Lydia get away with such a public display of shame. I couldn’t help but recall my past life where I had faced a lot of hardship at Fiona’s hands. I walked on, suddenly thinking, “When I first got that black card, I spent an entire day treating Lydia to whatever she wanted. Was she genuinely happy, or did she think I was just showing off?”
Fiona called me, inviting me to the family dinner that night, as her son Dylan was back. I took a deep breath as I hung up. Dylan had been my target in the previous life, and even now, just thinking about him gave me chills. As I composed myself and gathered my things, I told myself I couldn’t let myself panic at this family gathering. In the evening, Fiona sat at the head of the table, with Lydia and Dylan seated across from me. Lydia looked noticeably thinner after just a few days, the dark circles under her eyes conspicuous despite the makeup. In my past life, I had been force-fed the etiquette of high society, studying it daily. But all those lessons paled in comparison to what was to come. It seemed Lydia’s progress was going well, as she sat, wrapping her arm around Dylan’s sweetly. “Why didn’t Vincent come with you?” Fiona asked. Vincent and Fiona had a strained relationship, but I knew she still loved her son dearly. I replied, “Mom, Vincent is abroad for an art exhibition. It might take him a while to come back.” “Art, art! All he knows is drawing! Is that useful?” Fiona grumbled, then sighed, “Oh well, if it makes him happy.” Just as she spoke, I caught a glimpse of jealousy in Dylan’s eyes. Vincent, the eldest son, had always been groomed to be the heir, leaving him little freedom. Meanwhile, their parents’ attention was always focused on him, leaving Dylan, the younger son, feeling overlooked. The lack of affection from his parents had twisted his personality, leading him to become possessive while also working hard to surpass his brother in finance. “No worries, when he’s back, I’ll bring him to visit you,” I said. As soon as I finished, Lydia jumped in. “Not to stir the pot, but Megan, how’s your marriage with Vincent?” She extended her wrist, flaunting a thick intricately carved gold bracelet. “Dylan had a craftsman make this for me. It’s not that gold is worth much, but the effort Dylan put into finding the right artisan makes it truly special.” I shot back, “I still think gold is valuable. If you believe it’s not, feel free to give me some gold bars next time—I don’t need any fancy designs.” Lydia seemed taken aback, quickly shifting the topic. “Even if Vincent is away, it’s still a family dinner. Dressing like that is rather inappropriate.” I looked at her innocently. “What should I wear then? This is the best outfit I have in my wardrobe. I can’t afford anything else. The last time you mentioned buying me something, I asked for a bag, and you made me beg you for it.” Lydia said, “That was just a joke! Don’t take it seriously. We’re friends!” “Oh, so you were joking when you embarrassed me in front of all these people?” Being sincere was always a winning tactic. Lydia hadn’t expected my directness. The color drained from her face, and Fiona’s expression darkened as well. Fiona said, turning to Lydia, “I’ve heard about this too. Apologize to Megan.” Lydia turned beet red and stammered, struggling to spit out a simple apology. Dylan intervened, saying, “Mom, don’t make it hard for Lydia. She was just joking after all—they were friends, so it’s normal.” “I don’t find it funny. Or do you think it makes you feel superior to Vincent?” I retorted, locking my gaze on Dylan. As the words left my lips, Dylan’s look hardened, his eyes narrowing into piercing daggers. My question was a challenge. Fiona just couldn’t hold it in any longer. She cleared her throat a couple of times and said, “Lydia, as the president’s wife of West Group, you need to act like a refined lady. Apologize!” Noticing that Fiona was really ticked off, Lydia grudgingly mumbled an apology to me. I stared right back into her angry eyes. “Lydia, you know I’m hard of hearing. I didn’t catch that.” “Sorry!” she hissed, barely above a whisper. I nodded, feeling pretty chuffed. As we were leaving the family dinner, Lydia yanked me to the side, her eyes spitting fire. “Come on, spill the beans. Have you been reborn too?” I put on a show of being indignant. “What are you talking about? If you hadn’t made me look like a fool last time, I wouldn’t have given you a piece of my mind. Is this how you treat your BFF?” “Listen up, starting today, we’re done! Even if you end up on the streets, panhandling, don’t count on me for a dime,” Lydia declared, acting all high-and-mighty. I let out a smirk. “Well, funny you should say that, because I’ve been thinking about cutting this cord too. But as a parting shot, let me give you a heads-up—throw away that bracelet. It looks so tacky and out of date.” She rolled her eyes like I was nothing, but then a thought hit her, and she lifted her chin in a smug way. “Just wait till that good-for-nothing gets back. We’ll see if you’re still cracking jokes then.” I knew she was referring to the incident where Vincent would get attacked abroad and end up limping. I just let out a disdainful snort and said, “Worry about yourself first.” What I didn’t tell her was that there was something else hidden inside that bracelet.
🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “296189”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #现实主义Realistic #励志Inspiring
Leave a Reply