### In my previous life, my wife attended her childhood best friend’s wedding. On her way back, she decided to race down the highway, pushing her car to its limits. The result? A massive pile-up that left four people dead and one severely injured. When the police called to inform me, I raced to the crash site. The scene was chaos—flames roaring into the night sky, the air thick with smoke and the sound of sirens, distant wailing, and panicked shouting. I waited there for an excruciating 24 hours as the responders worked to clear the wreckage. Finally, a detective approached me, his expression heavy with regret. “We couldn’t recover your wife’s body,” he said. “It’s likely she was consumed by the fire.” For the funeral, I had nothing but a handful of scorched debris to place in her urn. But even before I could arrange a proper service, the families of the victims were at my doorstep, demanding answers. In the blink of an eye, I wasn’t just a grieving husband—I was the man responsible for four lives lost. Four lives and millions in damages that I had no way of paying. Desperation took over. To appease the victims’ families and buy their forgiveness, I threw myself into work. From the age of 30 to 48—eighteen long years—I worked nonstop, pouring every ounce of energy into paying off the compensation. Finally, I cleared all the debts. Finally, the families of the victims forgave me. But by then, my body had given out. Overworked and exhausted, I suffered a stroke that left me bedridden, spending my remaining days confined to a hospital room. And then, just as I thought my suffering couldn’t get any worse, I saw her. My wife. The same wife who had “died” in that fiery crash eighteen years ago. She was standing in the hospital corridor with her childhood best friend—the one whose wedding she’d attended—and a young boy who looked just like her. They were laughing, cheerful, the picture of a happy family. I stared, my mind reeling as the truth hit me like a freight train. The accident. The deaths. The debt. My ruined health. It was all a lie. She had faked her death. All these years, I had been nothing more than a pawn in her twisted game. Rage consumed me. Blood rose in my throat, and I collapsed, choking on it. I died right there, in that cold, sterile hospital room, my vision fading to black with the sound of their laughter echoing in my ears. But when I opened my eyes again, something was different. I wasn’t lying in a hospital bed anymore. I was back. Back on the day of the crash. The day everything began. 0
“Hello, is this Mr. Ryan Chase? This is Officer Daniels from the Highway Patrol. Your wife was involved in a serious accident on the interstate. Please come to the scene as soon as possible.” The officer’s heavy voice echoed in my ear, and I froze for a moment. “Sir? Are you still there?” The officer repeated my name a few more times before I snapped out of it. Memories from my previous life came flooding back like a reel of film. In my past life, I had received this exact same call. I had rushed to the crash site, panic-stricken, only to be greeted by a scene of devastating fire and chaos. I’d cried until my throat was raw, only to find that there was no body to recover. My wife’s remains had been declared destroyed in the blaze. I blamed myself for years, haunted by guilt and sorrow. But in the end, I discovered the truth: her body wasn’t missing because she died in the crash. No, she was alive. She had orchestrated the entire thing to fake her death, steal my money, and run off with her lover. Not this time. This time, I won’t let those two snakes get away with it. I hung up the phone and immediately contacted my lawyer, explaining the situation in detail. To unravel this scheme, I’d need to: Prove my wife, Lily, is still alive. Gather evidence of her cheating so I can protect my assets in the divorce. Hold her accountable for fleeing the scene of an accident that killed four people and injured one. That alone would land her in prison for years. Taking a deep breath, I steadied my emotions. Just as I was about to leave, the front door flew open. Lily’s mother stormed in and threw herself into my arms, sobbing dramatically. “Ryan! Did you see the news? Did the police call you too?” Her voice cracked as she wailed, “What am I going to do? She’s my only daughter! If something happens to her, how will I go on?” In my previous life, this scene had played out exactly the same way. Back then, I had spent hours comforting her, reassuring her that everything would be okay. Looking back now, it was all so ridiculous. What kind of mother cries her heart out but doesn’t shed a single tear? If I hadn’t been so blinded by grief, I might’ve noticed the cracks in her performance. She already knew Lily was fine. She even knew about Lily’s affair. This whole family was rotten to the core. Just thinking about them made me sick. They had lived off me for years, eating my food, drinking my wine, and now they wanted to take everything I had. Not this time. “Ryan, why are you so calm? Lily was in a car accident!” I raised an eyebrow. “The police haven’t confirmed anything yet. Why do you sound so certain that Lily… didn’t make it?” 0
“Are you telling me you somehow know more than the police?” Lily’s mother froze for a moment, her expression betraying a flicker of guilt before she quickly plastered on a defensive look. “I’m just worried!” she snapped, then immediately turned the blame on me, raising her voice. “Ryan, what are you trying to say? Are you hoping my daughter’s dead or something?” “How could you let her drive back to her hometown alone? You’re her husband! Isn’t it your job to keep her safe?” Her words brought back memories of the argument Lily and I had before she left. She had insisted on driving back to her childhood friend’s wedding, even though I told her it wasn’t a good idea. I was swamped with work, trying to finalize a deal with a major client, so I suggested we send a gift instead and visit her hometown together later—maybe even bring her mom along. But no matter how much I reasoned with her, she wouldn’t budge. She blew up at me, yelling over something as trivial as a wedding. In the end, she ignored me completely, grabbed the car keys, and hit the highway without another word. That wasn’t like Lily. She was usually so calm, so sweet-tempered. Looking back, it should have set off alarm bells. But in my past life, I had been blind to all the warning signs. “Ryan, why aren’t you saying anything? Did I hit a nerve?” “Mom,” I said, my tone soft and full of sorrow. “You’ve seen how I’ve treated Lily over the years. I love her—I’d never want anything bad to happen to her.” I reached out and took her hands in mine, squeezing them gently, my face the picture of grief. “I want nothing more than for Lily to come back safe and sound. I’ve already made arrangements. Let’s head to the crash site now.” The moment the words left my mouth, her entire demeanor shifted. The anger and grief she’d been putting on vanished in an instant, replaced by a suspiciously bright smile. It was almost as if she’d forgotten her daughter was supposedly fighting for her life. We left together, her walking ahead of me to the car. Before following, I made a quick call to a private investigator I’d hired earlier. “I need you to keep an eye on the house,” I told him. “If Lily shows up, get photos—anything that proves she’s alive.” Once we were in the car, Lily’s mom kept her back to me, frantically typing away on her phone. “What are you doing?” I asked, glancing over casually. “Just checking the news,” she replied, her tone a little too quick. “I want to see if there are any updates about the crash.” I didn’t call her out on the lie, but I knew exactly what she was doing. She wasn’t looking at the news. She was texting Lily, feeding her updates on my every move. Meanwhile, just outside the house, Lily was already waiting in the shadows with her so-called “best friend,” Nick. Dressed in hoodies and baseball caps, they looked like a couple of amateur thieves. “Who’s that lurking around the front door?” Lily whispered, narrowing her eyes at the stranger near the entrance. “I’ll go check it out.” She started forward, but Nick grabbed her arm. “No! If you show yourself now, it’ll ruin everything. Do you want to blow the whole plan?” She stopped in her tracks, her face twisting with frustration. “What am I supposed to do? My jewelry is still in there—all my valuables!” Nick shook his head, keeping his voice low. “Don’t worry. We’ll get another chance. Besides, if you’re ‘dead,’ Ryan will still have to take care of your mom. Just have her ask for more money later. Problem solved.” Her expression softened, and she let out a small laugh. The two of them slipped away into the night, still clinging to the delusion that they could live off me forever. In my past life, by the time I got home from the crash site, the house had been ransacked. Jewelry, cash, family heirlooms—gone. I had been too overwhelmed by grief and the chaos caused by the victims’ families to even report the theft. Not this time. This time, I was ready for them. I had the investigator watching from the shadows, documenting every move they made. Even if Lily had changed her name and tried to reinvent herself, her face was still the same. One photo of her sneaking around my house, and her entire scheme would come crashing down. This time, Lily, you’ve already lost. By the time I arrived at the crash site, the fire had just been extinguished. The wreckage was still smoldering, the burnt-out remains of several cars charred beyond recognition. The moment Lily’s mom stepped out of the car, she ignored the police and firefighters yelling at her to stay back and ran straight into the wreckage. And somehow, as if guided by some supernatural force, she went directly to Lily’s car. She collapsed to the ground as soon as she got close, wailing like her heart was about to give out. I noticed her phone lying on the ground, clearly dropped in her frantic rush. I bent down to pick it up, and just as I did, a notification popped up on the screen. It was a text from a contact with a gray, anonymous avatar: “We checked the house, but came up empty. Mom, see if you can squeeze more out of Ryan.” My grip tightened on the phone. Lily and her lover, Nick, were shameless. They knew I wouldn’t abandon her mom, no matter what happened. They were using my love for her to milk me for everything I had. I thought back to the last life, to the years after Lily’s “death.” I had been drowning under the weight of lawsuits and compensation claims from the victims’ families. Even then, I still sent her mom $1,000 every month to help with her “living expenses.” Whenever I had a little extra to spare, I sent more. Turns out, every cent of that money must’ve gone straight into the pockets of those two snakes. “Mr. Chase, please help calm her down,” a firefighter called out to me. “We’re doing everything we can to rescue your wife.” “Of course,” I said, carefully setting the phone back where she’d dropped it. I jogged over to Lily’s mom and gently helped her to her feet. “Mom, let’s not get in the way of the rescue team. People might start thinking Lily’s… already gone if you keep crying like this.” She looked up at me, her bloodshot eyes narrowing in suspicion. “What’s that supposed to mean, Ryan? Are you wishing for my daughter’s death?” “Of course not,” I replied calmly. “Every second counts during a rescue. I just want to make sure Lily has the best chance possible.” She seemed unconvinced, but she stood up anyway. I reached out to steady her, but she stumbled, nearly falling back toward the wreckage. “Mom!” I shouted, grabbing her arm just in time. “Are you okay?” She yanked her arm away, glaring at me like I’d insulted her. “Don’t touch me.” Without another word, she wiped her face dramatically and stormed off toward the edge of the police barrier. Her anger didn’t surprise me. She wasn’t upset because I was “wishing ill” on Lily. No, she was mad because I’d interrupted her plan. She’d been trying to plant Lily’s phone in the wreckage, hoping it would be found during the rescue. That phone was full of photos of Lily—and more importantly, sentimental recordings and messages from her to me. In my past life, I had been so consumed by grief that when I finally got that phone back, I spent hours restoring its data, desperate to hold on to any piece of her I could. One of the recordings had shattered me. It was Lily’s “farewell message,” filled with declarations of love and regret. She talked about how much she’d miss me in the next life, how she hoped we’d meet again someday. Every word had cut into me like a knife. I had believed her so completely that I spent the rest of my life carrying the burden of her “death,” paying her family’s bills, and never even considering moving on. But this time, I wasn’t going to let her mom pull the same stunt. I made sure she never got the chance to plant that phone in the wreckage. The rescue operation lasted an entire day. By the end of it, a police officer approached me and Lily’s mom with a somber expression. He handed over a bag of Lily’s personal belongings. “I’m sorry,” he said. “We couldn’t recover a body.” He explained that the damage from the crash was so severe that it was possible her remains had been obliterated in the explosion or consumed entirely by the fire. “Please accept our condolences,” he added. I clenched his hand tightly, tears streaming down my face in large, uncontrollable drops. Behind me, Lily’s mom collapsed to the ground in a dead faint. I knew she was faking it, but just like in my past life, I called for an ambulance and personally took her to the hospital. Back then, I had done the same thing. After dropping her off at the hospital, I had gone straight to a funeral home, bought an urn, and returned to the crash site to collect a handful of ash to put in it. This time, I followed the same steps—except instead of heading to a cemetery afterward, I went straight back to the hospital. As I approached her hospital room, I heard voices coming from inside. “…You were right, Lily,” her mom said, laughing. “Ryan fell for it, hook, line, and sinker. He looked like a ghost when they told him you were dead. What an idiot.” “Don’t worry,” she continued. “I’ll make sure to bleed him dry. He’s too soft to ever say no to me.” “And I’ve already sent someone to stir up the victims’ families,” Lily replied, her voice cold and calculating. “Once they start causing trouble, Ryan will be too busy putting out fires to notice anything else. You can grab whatever’s left at the house while he’s distracted.” My hands curled into fists, my nails digging into my palms as I listened. Five years of marriage. Five years of loyalty, of love, of trust. And this is what it had all been for. Even the victims’ families—the people who had screamed at me, threatened me, and made my life hell—had been manipulated by them. The truth hit me like a bolt of lightning, leaving me breathless and reeling. But this time, things would be different. If Lily wanted to play dead, I’d make sure it became a reality. The good times for them were officially over.
🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “295328”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #现实主义Realistic #浪漫Romance #励志Inspiring #惊悚Thriller #魔幻Magic #校园School #狼人Werewolf #擦边Steamy #重生Reborn
Leave a Reply