My always-healthy husband swallowed pills and took his own life at home. My sister barged into the ribbon-cutting ceremony like a mad woman, dragging me away and telling me to hurry up and go see my husband one last time. I had the security escort her out and then calmly release the balloons in my hand to celebrate the opening of the new store. In my past life, when I heard the news, I rushed home without even attending the ribbon-cutting ceremony, only to find my husband already covered with a white sheet, his body lifeless. My father and sister brought out “evidence”, accusing me of domestic abuse, claiming I pushed my husband to death, and they sued me. With both witnesses and evidence, even though the court ruled that I was not guilty, the internet turned on me, and everyone believed that I had driven him to suicide. I became the poster child for “the evil woman” and, in the end, I was killed by a self-proclaimed “hero” with mental issues and stabbed to death in the middle of a busy street. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day my husband took his own life. ***** “Andrea, Logan committed suicide at home. You need to come with me. Hurry. You might still make it to see him one last time,” my sister, Nora Bennett, said, pushing her way through the crowd to drag me to leave. I shook her off. “Can you not make a scene? We’re in the middle of a ceremony. Just behave for a minute, and I promise I’ll buy you that car you’ve been eyeing, okay?” Nora was panicked, her face pale with urgency. “I’m not lying! Logan really killed himself! You need to come with me now!” “Stop talking nonsense. I was just talking to him three hours ago. He was perfectly fine at home. There’s no way he would have committed suicide. Stop causing trouble. Security, get her out of here,” I snapped. The security guards, now with my permission, dragged Nora away despite her protests. I released the balloons in my hand to celebrate the store opening as well as my new lease on life. In my past life, on this exact day, I had been rushing around to get the new store’s opening ceremony ready. And just like now, Nora had barged in, telling me that my husband had taken his life and I needed to go home right away. I panicked, leaving the ceremony before it even started and rushing back. But when I got home, all I saw was my husband’s body, covered by a white sheet. I collapsed to the floor in tears, shouting at him for being so cruel, for leaving me behind alone. But Nora, who had just moments ago been comforting me, suddenly turned cold. She grabbed me, telling me to stop pretending, accusing me of acting. I stood frozen, unsure of what was happening. She said she’d seen the bruises on Logan more than once, and with tears, she explained that Logan had been depressed and that I should have just divorced him to set him free. The people around us, not knowing the truth, believed Nora’s words, calling me vicious and heartless. At that moment, my father showed up. I looked at him with hope, praying that he would defend me, that he would speak up for me. But instead, he looked at me with disappointment. “I told you a thousand times, treat Logan better. But you never listened. Every time something went wrong, you took it out on him. “I raised you not to compare yourself to others, but you were always eyeing your friends’ husbands, thinking Logan wasn’t good enough. You beat him every day, verbally and physically. “Now, Logan is dead because of you, and you’re crying like you lost a pet. What’s this, regret? Regret that you lost your punching bag?” His words were a tirade, and he painted me as a selfish, vain, and malicious woman. The crowd around us joined in the accusations. I couldn’t take the humiliation anymore, so I called the police to clear my name. But the investigation confirmed that Logan had indeed committed suicide. And they found a Twitter account on his backup phone, filled with years of notes detailing how I had abused him, how he had suffered in silence. Nora also produced a camera, claiming it was a package Logan had sent her before his death, asking her to show everyone my “true face”. The video was damning. It showed me from behind, violently attacking Logan. Forensic experts found signs of abuse and physical trauma all over Logan’s body. I was branded as a villain, an evil woman, and the online mob came after me. They sent me hateful messages, wishing for my death. A few days later, I was killed in the street by a self-righteous psychopath, who stabbed me repeatedly in broad daylight, with people cheering him on. The street was crowded, but no one tried to help me. Instead, they praised the killer, calling him a hero for “getting rid of scum”. I still didn’t understand why, in my past life, everything turned against me so quickly. Why did I end up completely abandoned by everyone?
Three hours after realizing I had been reincarnated, the first thing I did was push down the overwhelming emotions and call my husband on a video call. “Honey, where are you? The ribbon-cutting ceremony for the new store is about to start. I’ll pick you up so we can go together.” My husband was silent for a moment before replying, “I’m at home, having an online meeting with my colleagues. I probably won’t be able to join you. Why are you being so clingy today? Don’t worry. I’ll stay home and won’t go out hitting on anyone.” Worried that I might not believe him, he flipped the camera around, showing me he was indeed at home. “If something’s bothering you or if I’ve done something to upset you, just let me know. Don’t bottle it up.” He laughed brightly, “Silly, you’re the best wife in the world. I cherish you so much. How could I ever be mad at you?” His answer was warm and familiar, so natural it didn’t even seem forced. This video call didn’t ease my doubts. It only made them worse. At this moment, there were only three hours left before he would take his own life, yet he seemed completely normal—no sign of someone about to end it all. But why, three hours from now, would he make such a drastic decision? As I pondered this, my assistant called to remind me that the ceremony was about to begin. The assistant was one of the few people I trusted fully, and after some hesitation, I decided to downplay everything, telling her a little white lie about a “friend” and asking if she had any thoughts on the situation. She paused for a moment and then said, “Ms. Bennett, what if this whole thing is a setup targeting your friend? It’s possible that your friend’s father has been unhappy with them for a long time.” “No way,” I blurted out. My dad had always spoiled me, and for over 20 years, we’d had a close father-daughter relationship. He favored me more than he did Nora, so how could he ever have the heart to harm me? But my assistant’s words still made some sense. If my dad truly loved me the way he showed, then why, after Logan’s death in my past life, did he immediately accuse me of pushing Logan to suicide without giving me a chance to explain? Why did he throw me into a storm of public opinion and bring me to court? There was definitely something off about Logan’s death. But where was the problem? The details of my past life kept replaying in my mind as I tried to piece things together. It took me almost half an hour before I suddenly snapped out of my thoughts. I looked at the still-open video call screen and immediately turned to my assistant. “You don’t have to go to the ceremony. Go check something for me. If you get it done, I’ll give you a bonus.” The bonus was far more appealing than the ceremony. By the time I’d given my instructions, my assistant was full of energy, saying she’d get to the bottom of it. I took a car to the new store. The allure of money was powerful. In just an hour and a half, my assistant had gathered all the information. I looked at the documents in my hand, and my heart sank. I never imagined that my entire life so far had been built on lies. I quietly pulled my assistant aside. “There’s one more thing, but don’t let anyone else know.” After giving her my instructions, I returned to the ceremony, trying to block out my swirling thoughts and focus on preparing for the event.
By the time the ceremony ended, the news that Andrea Bennett, the famous businesswoman, had found her husband dead at home from a suicide had already gone viral. As a semi-public figure, our every move was scrutinized by people with ulterior motives, including competitors. Now that such a major incident had occurred, the crowd of onlookers had already gathered outside our door. Everyone was in perfect sync, holding up their phones to record videos or stream live. I clicked on the hottest live stream. Nora appeared on the screen. She was sitting on the floor, a white cloth covering Logan’s body in front of her. She said, “Logan, you were so stupid. You had the courage to kill yourself, but you didn’t have the guts to just run away. “It’s our fault. If I had told Andrea about how she liked to hit people and told you that I’ve been bullied by her all my life, maybe you wouldn’t have married her. You wouldn’t have lost your life so young.” She continued crying, “Dad, Andrea went too far this time. I told her Logan was dead and asked her to come see him one last time, but not only did she refuse, she had security kick me out. “She didn’t even care that Logan was her husband, the person she spent every day with. There wasn’t a single expression of sorrow on her face. How could anyone be so cold-hearted?” Nora’s words were barely finished before my dad walked into the frame. He looked at the camera, his teeth clenched, seething with anger. “Andrea, you ungrateful piece of crap, is your work really more important than Logan? Why didn’t you believe Nora when she told you Logan killed himself? Instead, you had her thrown out. “You pushed him to his death, and now, you won’t even come to see him one last time? How could you be so heartless? I don’t care where you are, but you better get your ass back here right now.” Nora’s crying had already stirred the anger of the livestream viewers, and now, with my dad’s words, the attacks grew even harsher. The comments exploded, calling me every kind of insult. The viewers were furious, and the crowd outside, even more enraged, began chanting curses, wishing death upon me. Seeing that the crowd was in the right mood, I drove back to the neighborhood. When I arrived, the place was surrounded, and there was no way in. As soon as I stepped out of the car, someone with sharp eyes recognized me. “That evil woman’s back! Get her!” The crowd’s fury erupted all at once. Things were thrown at me from all directions. Thankfully, my professional bodyguards had prepared for this. They opened two large umbrellas, shielding most of the attacks. “How dare she fend off? Look at her. She’s even wearing makeup!” “What a shameless bitch. Her husband just died, and she’s still decked out. Is she celebrating her husband’s death?” “Even a murderer would have more compassion than her!” The police arrived around the same time we did and immediately began setting up a perimeter to control the crowd. With their help, the crowd parted just enough for me to walk through with the officers. The moment I stepped in front of them, my dad rushed forward and slapped me hard across the face. He roared, “You piece of garbage, what did Logan ever do to deserve this? Why did you have to push him to the point of suicide? If I don’t get you thrown in jail today, I won’t be able to face Logan.” His voice was so full of anguish and pain that every word was charged with emotion, stirring up the crowd even further. Had it not been for the fact that I was the target of his fury, I would have joined in and cursed myself. After my dad finished, Nora, with a look of utter disappointment, turned to the police. “Sir, I want to file a report. I have evidence that proves Logan was driven to death. I hope you’ll uphold the law and arrest this evil woman.” Nora, standing right in front of the camera, showed the video she’d pre-recorded. She continued, “This is a package Logan sent me before he died. He told me to wait for the right moment to show it so everyone could see what kind of evil woman Andrea really is.” Over the past few hours, they had gathered enough evidence to build a strong case. Nora looked at me with a sneer. “You think Logan was some orphan with no one to fight for him? No! We’re his family. We’ve got witnesses and evidence. Just wait, Andrea. You’ll have to pay for what you’ve done.” And in front of the police, I did something that nobody expected.
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