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Ward Baker had two candidates for marriage—Sarah Harrison and I. The year we graduated, Sarah’s family went bankrupt. She went abroad and married another man, leaving Ward and me to become husband and wife. In the years that followed, we were the envy of everyone—a model couple in the social scene. Ward treated me with tenderness and devotion, and I gave him my all. I bore and raised two exceptional children, and together we built an empire that made him the youngest billionaire in the nation. But just as everyone was admiring my seemingly perfect life, I was diagnosed with cancer after years of exhaustion, on the verge of retirement. When I most needed love and care, Ward asked for a divorce to remarry Sarah, who returned from abroad after her own failed marriage. At first I couldn’t believe it. Then, as I coughed up blood, I still begged him to stay. But his heart was with Sarah. He even transferred the hotel chain I had spent half my life building into her name. Even my two children—whom I had personally raised—told me to stop being selfish and to bless Ward’s “true love.” They drove me out of my own home to make room for Sarah. I fell down the stairs in the chaos. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of our wedding. My arm was looped through my father’s as we walked toward Ward. But before we reached him, Ward rushed forward, grabbed the microphone from the officiant, panic written all over his face. A sharp voice cut through the ceremony, halting everything. Guests turned toward him, puzzled. I watched him coldly and realized that Ward had time-traveled as well. He decided to throw away years of friendship between our families, ignore the lucrative partnership about to be signed, and abandon the wedding gifts I brought with me Since he could give up everything for Sarah, I certainly wouldn’t stand in his way.