My Sweetest Escape

My last breath was a ragged gasp at 48, my heart giving out from sheer exhaustion.

The final image burned into my mind: my husband, Matthew, laughing at a lavish birthday party with Stella, his mistress, who had gotten rich from a real estate boom built on my stolen money.

Then, I woke up, 23 again, weeks before my wedding to that very man.

In my first life, I was a trusting fool, sacrificing everything for a man who drained me dry and used my inheritance to fund his mistress's rise.

I realized the cruel irony: his opulent life was built on my hidden sweat, my endless labor, while I toiled for a family that wasn't even truly mine.

This time, things would be different. This time, I would protect what was mine and claim the life they stole.