Chapter 1

I was just a disposable pawn in the Sinclair family, a stepping stone for the true heiress.

After time-traveling back, I unexpectedly awakened the power to restore everything. I could turn trash into treasure.

Watching my ex-husband's family regret throwing away what they once dismissed as "junk" honestly made me laugh.

As I regained consciousness, the suffocating pain in my chest still lingered, as if it hadn't faded away.

I remembered dying on a cold, rainy day, with wind seeping through the cracks of my tiny rented room. I didn't even have a single cent for medical bills.

But now, I was lying on a soft, comfortable bed, and the familiar scent of cedar, which was Adam Sinclair's favorite, was drifting around me.

I sat up abruptly, scanning the room.

This was Riverside Manor, the marital home Adam and I shared. The digital calendar on the wall displayed the date. It was June 7th, our third wedding anniversary.

This was the day everything changed for me in my previous life.

My heart was pounding. Wait, wasn't I dead? Did I time-travel back?

I pinched myself hard, and the sharp pain proved it. This was real. I really time-traveled back to three years ago, before everything went wrong.

On this day in my previous life, with my heart full of hope, I prepared a candlelit dinner, only to be greeted by Adam's cold expression and a divorce agreement.

He said, "My true love is back. It's time for you to step aside."

It was only later that I realized I was nothing but a stepping stone for the Sinclair family, used to clear the path for the real heiress, Vivian Lane.

The Sinclairs needed a marriage alliance with the Lane family to lock down a major overseas deal, and I was just the adopted daughter of the Lane family.

Now that the Lane family's real daughter, Vivian, was back, I was tossed aside without a second thought.

They stripped me of everything and threw me out like yesterday's trash. All the years I'd poured into our marriage and all the love and devotion turned out to be nothing but a cruel joke.

A cold shiver ran down my spine just thinking about it.

Downstairs, my mother-in-law Margaret's sharp, biting voice floated up, tinged with a hint of barely contained excitement. "Richard, everything's ready. Vivian's coming home next week.

"Poor thing. She's been through so much these past three years."

My father-in-law Richard's steady voice followed, "Nice job. If it weren't for Grace playing the 'catalyst', the Lane family's project would've gone sideways. Now that Vivian's back, Grace should get out of the way."

Margaret snorted, "She wouldn't have the guts to object. Adam's about to come clean with her. She's just a nobody with no family.

"If it weren't for our Sinclair family, she'd never have lived this well. Letting her leave with nothing is us being merciful."

"Exactly. Not a single cent for her. Let's clear out her room and turn it into Vivian's cloakroom. That girl's always had a thing for fashion," Richard added.

I stood frozen at the top of the stairs, a chill running through my whole body.

In my previous life, I didn't hear these words until much later that night, after Adam had already thrown the divorce agreement in my face. But now, I was hearing them ahead of time.

So, to them, I was nothing. I was just a "catalyst", a tool they could throw away whenever they pleased.

I clenched my fists, my nails digging deep into my palms.

Great. The Sinclair family, and Adam. This time, I wouldn't let them have their way.

I quietly retreated into my room and closed the door, shutting out the venomous voices from downstairs.

A tidal wave of anger, grief, and humiliation hit me, making my whole body tremble. I walked over to the vanity and stared at my pale, familiar face in the mirror. Tears finally spilled over, streaming down my cheeks.

Three years of marriage, and I'd been nothing but a servant—cooking, cleaning, taking care of everyone, keeping the house spotless. I really thought all my effort would earn me genuine love.

How ridiculous.

I grabbed the porcelain bottle from the vanity without thinking, just wanting a sip of water to steady myself. It was the only keepsake my grandma ever left me.

There was a natural crack running down its side, and it was worthless to anyone else, but to me, it was a treasure.

My emotions got the better of me, and my hand slipped. The bottle hit the floor with a loud crack, shattering into pieces.

"No!" I cried, my voice shaking.

I dropped to the ground in an instant. This was the last thing I had from my grandma.

My hands trembled as I tried to gather the shards, but they were broken beyond restoration. The grief was too much. I collapsed onto the floor, tears streaming down and plopping onto the cold shards.

But right then, something miraculous happened.

A single hot tear landed on the largest shard. Instantly, a gentle, moonlit glow began to radiate from it.

I was stunned and even forgot to cry.

The light grew stronger, almost as if it were alive, drawing all the shards in. They began to reassemble themselves, the cracks mending instantly in the glow.

It all happened in just a few seconds.

As the glow faded, the porcelain bottle lay quietly on the floor, perfectly whole, not a single flaw in sight.

No, it was even more stunning than before. The ugly crack had vanished, replaced by a silky sheen. The glaze shimmered with iridescent colors, as if the bottle were a legendary artifact awakened from centuries of slumber.

I reached out in disbelief, letting my fingertips brush against the bottle. It felt smooth and weighty, almost soothing to the touch.

What was going on?

Could my tears fix things?