Chapter 2

This dress was Damir's coming-of-age gift to me when I turned eighteen.

In my previous life, I treated it like a priceless treasure and couldn't even bring myself to wear it. When Elina asked for it, I remember clutching the dress desperately, flat-out refusing her ridiculous request.

Elina angrily snatched it from me.

The dress ended up torn, and she tripped and fell to the floor. Then she burst into tears, claiming I'd shoved her.

Damir started yelling at me without even hearing my side.

He snapped, "Sophie, you're so stingy. It's just an old dress. Elina rarely comes back. Don't you know how to treat guests? Get out right now."

Just like that, he threw me out, leaving me sobbing in the cold, clutching the shredded dress, trembling all night long.

But this time, I wasn't about to fall for that again.

I smirked and handed her the dress without a second thought. "If you want it, take it. Keep it. I don't need it back."

Elina looked surprised for a moment, then her eyes lit up with smugness.

"You're so generous. Guess I'll just take it, thanks," she said.

She grabbed the dress, spun around in front of me just to show off, shot me a provocative look, and practically skipped out of the room, all smiles.

Damir came in from the living room, frowning.

He shot me a look full of annoyance.

He challenged. "Why would you just give away the dress I gave you?"

Last time, when I wouldn't give it away, he called me stingy. Now I do, and he's still on my case.

I looked at him and said, "Just using your gift to keep your darling Elina happy. Isn't that what a good host should do? Why are you so bothered?"

Damir choked on my words, his face turning sour.

Then he said coldly, "Elina's staying over tonight. You'd better stay in your room and don't come out. Don't get in our way."

I just shrugged. "Alright, I get it."

Damir saw how unfazed I was, got even more pissed, and stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

That night, their laughter echoed from the living room. They were shamelessly making out on the couch, not caring who saw.

In my previous life, whenever I caught them being all lovey-dovey, I'd go off on Damir, jealous and upset.

Every time, he'd say, "It's just Elina. She was my best friend in high school, my goddess back then, but that's all it ever was. If you get jealous, you're just looking for trouble."

But now, I just sat in my room, calmly booking my train ticket, not a trace of sadness or envy in my heart.

He didn't understand that true love meant caring enough to compare what was more important.

But when I stopped loving him, even if he died right in front of me, I wouldn't care at all.

Early in the morning, a piercing scream shattered the villa's peace. Bleary-eyed from packing all night, I frowned and shuffled out in my pajamas to check what was happening.

In the living room, Elina was standing by the coffee table, dressed in that princess gown.

She clutched her left arm with her right hand, her face scrunched up in pain, tears brimming in her eyes, looking all pitiful and helpless.

"It hurts, it really hurts," she whimpered.

Damir was right in front of her, his face tight with worry, eyes full of concern.

As soon as he saw me, he marched over and slapped me hard across the face.

The slap rang out, my head whipped to the side, and a burning pain flared up on my cheek.

Damir pointed at me, jaw clenched. "No wonder you handed the dress to Elina so easily. You stitched needles into it on purpose. Sophie, how could you be so cruel?"

I stared at Damir in disbelief, my hand pressed to my stinging cheek, my heart sinking with grief.

Ever since I moved into the Morton residence at twelve, he'd never once laid a finger on me.

He'd always be patient, like a big brother, coaxing me until I smiled again.

Back when we played house and fake weddings as kids, he swore he'd always believe in me and protect me.

As we got older, his moods started to swing, but he never truly got mad at me. Even when it came to our divorce, he just sweet-talked and tricked me into it.

Now, just a little drama from Elina, and he was ready to throw everything out the window for her.

I pressed my hand to my burning cheek, stubbornly holding my ground. "Believe it or not, I didn't put any needles in that dress."

Just then, Elina put on her sweetest, most fragile act, gently tugging at Damir's sleeve, her voice quivering with a sob.

"Damir, don't blame her. It was just a little needle prick. As long as there's nothing weird on it, I can handle it," she sniffled.

Damir didn't calm down at all. Instead, he looked even angrier.

"I'm taking you to the hospital right now. Sophie, go stand in the corner and think about what you did. When you're ready, come over and apologize to Elina," he snapped.

With that, he helped Elina out the door. She kept up her pitiful act, but when Damir wasn't looking, she gave me a quick, triumphant look.

I stood there, a bitter smile tugging at my lips, and couldn't help but sigh.

Even after I backed down, Elina still wouldn't let me go in this life. She's seriously one hell of a schemer.

But she never realized there were security cameras in the house.

I pulled up the footage and, sure enough, there was Elina, with her back to Damir, slyly pulling a silver needle from her bag and jabbing it hard into her own arm. Then she put on a whole performance to frame me.

I saved the video to a USB drive and slipped it into my bag.

At noon, when I found out Damir was back at the office, I changed into a fresh outfit, grabbed my resignation letter, and headed straight there.