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I traveled back to the time when my husband forced me to apologize to the woman he truly loved. In the hospital hallway, the trauma room light was still on. My mom was inside, fighting for her life, while the driver who hit her—Nina Hartley—was clinging to Andrew Collins with red eyes. Andrew gripped my wrist, his face cold as ice. "Emily, Nina didn't mean it. She just got back to the country. She doesn't know the roads that well. She's already scared out of her mind. "Go in there and tell her it's okay. Let's end this here." Previous life, I broke right here. My mom had been hit and rushed to the hospital, and just because Andrew said Nina can't take any more stress, I dropped the case, signed the settlement, and even lowered my head in front of Nina's hospital bed. After that, Nina moved into my home, took my project, and stole my reputation. Andrew treated me like some bitter, crazy woman, and treated her like the long-lost love he'd finally found again. When my mom needed money for treatment, he froze my cards and said, "You can talk about money again when you stop going after Nina." In the end, my mom never made it to her next surgery. And I was cornered in an underground garage by people Nina sent after me one rainy night. When the headlights hit me, I heard Nina laughing on the phone. "Emily, you lost."