Chapter 1

My stepdaughter fell for a punk and was hell-bent on roughing it with him.

In my previous life, I fought tooth and nail against it. She called me out in public, saying I only cared about money. Then she cut ties with me and went to live under a bridge with that punk.

My relatives said I was a lousy mother. My mother-in-law sneered that I was a heartless stepmom who'd never understand my stepdaughter, and my husband was so disappointed in me that he left the country for work and never came back.

I forced myself to let go and let my stepdaughter chase after what she thought was true love.

Three months later, that punk sold her off to a shady underground casino.

I drained my savings to rescue her, but she blamed me for destroying her love. She even livestreamed her suicide attempt.

I became the target of millions of people's hate, buried under a flood of online outrage. Even my own daughter, whom I'd always neglected, got caught up in the mess and fell into depression, eventually passing away.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the very day my stepdaughter brought that punk home.

This time, I smiled and squeezed her hand. "Honey, if true love is what you want, you have my blessing. Let me take care of the wedding for you."

*****

I was jolted awake.

Eileen Welch's familiar, haughty voice rang in my ears. "Mom, this is my boyfriend, Gerald. I brought him back."

I blinked. My vision slowly cleared.

This was my living room. I was really back.

I was back to the very afternoon that sent my whole world crashing down.

The scene in front of me slammed right into those painful memories.

There stood Eileen, the eighteen-year-old stepdaughter I'd always taken good care of since she was young. She was beaming with what she thought was "epic love," clinging tight to a guy's arm.

It was him, Gerald Holcomb.

Even in a set of barely clean clothes, he couldn't hide the grime from living on the streets or the sleazy vibe that clung to him.

His hair was greasy and stringy, his eyes shifty, but whenever he glanced at the pricey stuff in my living room, I caught that sharp, greedy look in his eyes.

He was the kind of street punk nobody could stand, but somehow, he'd managed to have Eileen totally wrapped around his finger.

The pain from my previous life hit me like a tidal wave, tearing me apart all over again.

I tried to stop her from marrying him, but she pointed right at me and called me out in front of everyone, saying I only cared about money and had no heart. She even cried and screamed about cutting ties with me, her "evil stepmom." Then she ran off to live under a bridge, chasing after that ridiculous "true love" of hers.

And what did I get for it?

My relatives pointed fingers at me, saying I was a lousy mom. My mother-in-law, Fiona Welch, sharp-tongued as ever, called me a heartless witch who couldn't even stand my stepdaughter.

And Miguel Welch, my husband, who was always trying to keep the peace, just gave me that look of total disappointment. In the end, he just gave up, left the country for work, and never came back.

I forced myself to let go, hoping the real world would teach Eileen a hard lesson.

To my surprise, in less than three months, Gerald, who kept swearing he loved Eilee, sold her to an underground casino just to get some gambling money. She suffered every humiliation imaginable.

I drained my savings, went down on my knees to beg anyone who might help, and finally managed to pull her out of that hellhole.

But what did I get for that?

All I got was her hateful glare and her crazed accusations. "It's all your fault. If you hadn't broken us apart, Gerald wouldn't have treated me like this. You destroyed my relationship!"

She even started a livestream, sobbing to millions of netizens about all the "crimes" I'd committed as her stepmom, and then, right in front of me, she jumped off a building.

Her blood covered the floor, pinning me to a lifetime of shame.

People said I'd driven my stepdaughter to her death. That label buried me under a tidal wave of hate. Millions of people cursed me online. If every one of them spat at me, I'd have drowned in seconds.

Even Nicole Welch, my own daughter, whom I'd always ignored, got caught in the mess. Bullies tore her apart. Depression dragged her down, and in the end, she was gone, too.

I lost everything. Regret ate me alive. Misery was all I had until it finally finished me off.

Now, I dug my nails into my palm, the sting barely keeping me grounded.

I couldn't lose control, not again.

In my previous life, I learned the hard way. Trying to stop Eileen only pushed her closer to that loser. I would end up the villain in everyone's eyes.

"Mom, Gerald's really talented. He's just never had a fair chance. You can't judge him just because of his background," Eileen said, putting on the same show from her previous life. Her voice carried that same smug tone, like she was the only one who saw how bright Gerald's future was.

Gerald played his part with his head bowed and shoulders hunched as if life had beaten him down, but he was still tough. But his sneaky and greedy eyes, just like those of a rat in the gutter, kept glancing at the antique vases on the shelves and the pricey paintings on my walls.

"Oh, Eileen. You're just so kind-hearted, unlike someone money-oriented and heartless," Fiona chimed in, her voice dripping with favoritism and provocation. She lounged on the couch, cracking pistachios and shooting me side glances.

My husband, Miguel, frowned, his eyes shifting between me and Eileen before landing on me with the same impatient look on his face. It was like he was just waiting for me to snap, so he could step in to "do justice."

Even Nicole Welch, my own daughter, who was standing by the stairs, looked at me with worry. Her small hands twisted nervously at the hem of her shirt, like she wanted to say something but couldn't bring herself to.

In my previous life, right at this moment, I was so blinded by anger that I didn't notice the silent plea in Nicole's eyes.

It tore me apart inside.

But this time, I wasn't going to make the same mistake.