Chapter 1
The door to the dressing room was flung open. Madison Webb stormed in, ripping the fake flower from my hair.
"Quit the makeup. Swap places with me," she snapped.
She started yanking off my wedding dress and shoved the red bridal veil, the mark of the lady of the house, into my arms.
"You can have that vegetable, Mr. Baldwin. I'm marrying Hubert," she declared.
I smoothed out my tangled hair and shot her a frosty glare in the mirror.
"Madison, the Baldwin family is a billionaire family. Are you really willing to walk away from all that?" I asked.
"A rich family? Please, that's a total hellhole!" she scoffed.
She adjusted the cheap makeup and dress that used to be mine, her lips curling into a crazed grin she couldn't hide.
She sneered, "Oh, you silly girl. Last time around, I spent my life like a widow while you got to be the richest man's wife.
"This time, the fortune is going to be mine."
*****
"Put on that damn red veil. Don't miss the hour!" Madison's shrill voice still echoed in my ears, but the red veil I'd been clutching had already slipped onto my lap.
Before me wasn't the Stevens mansion, but an ICU ward reeking of disinfectant.
On the bed lay Chandler.
He was a billionaire, but he was also a doomed coma patient who was waiting to die.
"Sister, this time, the fortune is finally mine." Madison's words echoed in my mind.
In my previous life, she threw a tantrum, refusing to marry Chandler for the ritual wedding meant to save his life, and forced me into it instead.
Chandler died less than six months later, and I became a wealthy widow, living large off his massive inheritance.
As for the "potential catch" she snatched away, Hubert Stevens, he was a total loser who could never amount to anything.
The moment she time-travelled this moment, Madison grabbed my wedding dress and slapped the red veil right onto my head.
She thought she'd scored herself a golden ticket to play the role of the richest man's wife.
But I knew the truth. What she really signed up for was dealing with all the dirty work of a bedridden husband, plus a ticking time bomb of debt from Hubert that hadn't blown up yet.
Just thinking about it, I couldn't help myself.
The corners of my lips curled up in a smile.
Suddenly, the door swung open with a loud creak.
Emma Menzie walked in, carrying a stainless-steel bucket with greasy stains still smeared along the rim.
"Mrs. Baldwin, it's time to give Mr. Baldwin a sponge bath," she said.
She slammed the bucket down on the nightstand.
The bucket hit the nightstand with a heavy clang.
Some water splashed out, dripping onto Chandler's pale hand.
I reached out to check the water.
It was icy cold.
"Emma, isn't this water way too cold?"
I asked softly, my eyes turning red at just the right moment, playing the part of the pitiful wife.
Emma rolled her eyes.
"Mrs. Baldwin, the doctor said cold water's good for his nerves and helps him recover. Besides, he can't feel a thing, so who cares if it's cold?" she replied.
So this was her way of humiliating me.
I understood it.
To the servants in the Baldwin family, a comatose heir and a bride dragged in from the sticks for a ritual wedding were beneath them. They all acted like they were superior.
"If that's what the doctor said, then I'll do as you say," I replied.
I lowered my eyes and obediently picked up the towel.
Emma let out a snort, shot me a look like I was just easy prey, and waddled out, her hips swinging like a bucket.
The moment the door clicked shut, all traces of timidity vanished from my face.
All traces of timidity vanished from my face.
I tossed the icy towel back into the bucket, pulled a silver needle from my bag, and gave a gentle press on a few of Chandler's pressure points.
"Come on, hubby, you gotta hang in there for me," I murmured.
I bent down, whispering right into his ear.
My voice was dripping with affection.
But in my head, I was already running the numbers.
Honestly, having a husband in a coma was not bad at all.
There would be no fights, no affairs, and zero marital obligations.
As long as that oxygen tube was still in, I would have a claim on the Baldwin family's billion-dollar fortune.
That old witch who dared to give me attitude was on my radar. The day Chandler finally died, I would fire her without giving her a dime in severance.
I wanted Chandler to hang in there, at least until the will came into effect.
As I was quietly muttering in my head, I reached out to tuck the blanket around him.
Right as my fingertips brushed across his hand, the monitor at the bedside suddenly blared with an urgent alarm.
The steady green line that had been gliding smoothly suddenly spiked, shooting up like a jagged mountain as if hit by a massive shock.
The monitor's numbers spiked from 60 to 120 in a flash.
The alarm was so loud, it sounded like the whole place was about to explode.
I jumped, and before I could even pull my hand back, the door burst open.
"What's going on?"