Chapter 1

Note: The inner thoughts of people other than the protagonist are expressed in '' marks.

My close friend Charlotte Wynn complained that she felt like her whole body was falling apart.

I was about to comfort her when a frantic thought suddenly rang in my ear.

'My poor lady. She has no idea her cold, distant husband was fooling around in the carriage with her so-called bosom friend only moments ago.

'What a shame I was beaten to death in my last life.

'How am I supposed to keep my lady safe this time around?'

My heart slammed against my ribs.

I never thought Edith Finch, my old nanny, had come back with memories of her past life.

*****

"Ouch, this road's so rough it's killing my back," Charlotte complained.

She reclined against the carriage wall, a handkerchief at her lips, her eyes gleaming with calculated charm.

Today, she wore a white dress with a daringly low neckline.

I was just about to ask the coachman to slow down when another anxious thought rang in my ear.

'Oh, drop the act. She was draped all over Mr. Grant a moment ago, and now she acts like she is made of glass.'

My grip on the handkerchief turned rigid. Who was that?

I scanned the carriage. There were only Charlotte, Edith dozing in the corner, and me.

Edith was one of the longtime women from my old household, and she was usually quiet to the point of silence.

'My poor lady. She still thinks that snake is her best friend. She has no clue those two were all over each other in the carriage ahead.

'In her last life, my lady was framed for cheating and almost killed for it.

'Given a second chance, I'll protect my lady even if it takes everything I have.'

A shock ripped through me.

I stared at Edith in the corner. Her eyes were still closed, and her face looked calm. But the voice was definitely hers.

"Isabel, what is wrong? Why do you look so pale?" Charlotte leaned in when I didn't answer.

I withdrew my hand, keeping my face composed. "It's nothing. I didn't sleep well last night."

I lifted the cup from the table and took a drink to hide the shock in my eyes.

Edith's thoughts came again. 'What a tramp. She still has Mr. Grant's mess on her hand. How dare she touch my lady?'

'My lady, look under her neck. Those marks are from Mr. Grant.'

My hand twitched, and the hot coffee spilled out.

I cried as most of it splashed over Charlotte's skirt.

"My dress!" Charlotte yelped, jumping up and trying to wipe it dry.

She shifted too sharply, and the truth was suddenly impossible to miss. Red marks covered her skin and disappeared beneath her collarbone.

I knew what they meant. I had been there. The last fragile hope inside me died then and there.

My nails sank into my palm. "Forgive me. My hand slipped," I said softly, though my gaze was ice.

Charlotte was too flustered with her dress to notice. "It's nothing, Isabel. You didn't mean it." She clutched her neckline shut, her gaze flickering nervously, refusing to meet my eyes.

Edith's eyes flew open. A trace of fierce pleasure flashed through her dim gaze.

Her thoughts came. 'Now she is ashamed. She was crying out happily enough a moment ago.'

'That spill was a blessing. It should have burned that shameless snake alive.'

Yet her face remained perfectly compliant as she drew out a handkerchief and moved forward. "Ms. Wynn, let me help you with that."

Her hands were powerful. While pretending to dab the fabric dry, she pinched Charlotte hard on the inside of her thigh.

Charlotte gasped through the pain, tears trembling in her eyes. "Edith, be gentler."

Edith looked instantly alarmed. "My hands are too coarse, and I was careless. Forgive me, Ms. Wynn."

She sounded apologetic, but inwardly, she sneered. 'You little whore. I still haven't made you pay for making my lady lose her child.'

Lose my child? I lifted my head sharply and looked straight at Edith.

I had been pregnant once. But three months in, I lost the baby for no clear reason.

The doctor said I was too weak.

My husband Edward Grant held me and cried through the night, swearing he'd never let me suffer again.

So it was Charlotte. She was the one who caused it.

The carriage rolled to a slow stop. Edward's voice came from outside, smooth and gentle. "Isabel, Charlotte, we're here at St. Serenity Abbey."

The curtain lifted, and a long strong hand reached inside.

Edward stood beside the carriage, tall and elegant, smiling softly. He looked every bit the perfect gentleman.

If I hadn't heard Edith's thoughts, and if I hadn't seen the hickeys on Charlotte's neck, I might still have believed his lies and kept dreaming of a loving marriage.

Charlotte instinctively started to place her hand in his. Halfway there, she seemed to remember herself and awkwardly pulled back.

But her eyes still clung to Edward. "Isabel isn't feeling well. You should help her down first, Edward."

The way she said his name was soft and lingering.

A flicker of indulgence crossed Edward's eyes, so fast it nearly escaped notice.

Then he turned to me, his gaze warm with false devotion. "Isabel, come. Watch your step."

I looked at the hand I had once loved with all my heart. Now it only looked filthy and made me sick.

Edith followed behind me with her head lowered, but the curses in her mind never stopped.

'What a phony. He was saying in the carriage that my lady lay there like a corpse, and only this little whore knew how to please him.'

'He said that once he got hold of my lady's dowry properties, he'd cast her aside and put that whore in her place.'

I drew in a slow breath and forced down the murderous rage rising in my chest.

I didn't take Edward's hand. Instead, I held Edith's arm and stepped down from the carriage on my own.

"I'm fine. I can manage on my own," I said.

Edward's hand froze in midair. His smile stiffened for a beat.

"Isabel, what's wrong? Are you feeling unwell?" He stepped forward and reached for my waist.

I turned and avoided him. "I'm tired. I want to rest in my room first."

Then I walked off with Edith without sparing that wretched pair another glance.

If they wanted to put on a show, I'd give them one they'd never forget.