Chapter 1

In the second month after getting back together with Stefan Hunt, I ran into his intern, Phoebe Watkins, in the underground parking garage, crying her eyes out in his arms.

When she saw me, she clutched a heart-shaped lunchbox and lowered her head, all soft and fragile. She said to me, "Roxanne, I'm sorry. I couldn't control myself. It has nothing to do with Mr. Hunt."

In my previous life, I'd lost my temper, slapped her, and dragged Stefan straight to the courthouse for a divorce.

In the end, my mother died in the hospital because we couldn't afford the surgery. And because I got nothing from the divorce, when I had a fever, I couldn't afford treatment and died alone in my rented apartment.

Seeing me stay silent, Stefan looked at me with amusement. "Roxanne, what kind of scene are you planning to make this time?"

But I simply waved it off, calm and agreeable. "It's fine. I trust you."

After all, I'd been given a second chance. I wasn't about to repeat the same mistakes.

Ignoring the shock on his face, I pointed at the lunchbox in Phoebe's hands and said considerately, "If you like her cooking, why not have her come over to our place and take care of you?

"As long as you're happy, I'm fine with it."

At that, Stefan's expression darkened instantly.

*****

I opened the car door and slipped right into the back seat of the Bentley, like it was second nature.

I grabbed my phone and texted my friend. [Hey, can you help me look into someone for me?]

A minute later, Stefan slid into the driver's seat, his face grim.

While we were stopped at a red light, he turned to me and asked, "Why?"

His gaze was still icy, and there was a hint of disbelief in his voice.

His random question threw me for a loop, and my mind blanked out for a moment.

He spoke louder, repeating his question. "Why would you say something like that?"

When it finally clicked, I couldn't help but laugh.

"You've always thought I was too petty, right? Well, isn't this what you've been hoping for?" I asked.

Stefan was quiet for a moment, then finally explained.

"Phoebe is only a regular staff at the company. There's nothing going on between us," he said. "Just so you know, I'm already planning to transfer her to a branch office.

"She simply happened to be there earlier. It's really not what you think."

I didn't say anything, just kept my head down, quietly figuring out how much more cash I needed before I could finally ditch Stefan for good.

Stefan kept glancing at me in the rearview mirror.

He let out a sigh and tried to explain again.

He said, "Phoebe's family is really struggling. She just graduated, has to pay off her brother's debts, and she's been battling serious depression for years. It's been rough for her. I'm only helping her out, so why are you—"

Before he could finish, I quietly interrupted him. "You don't have to explain. I believe you."

Stefan hesitated, a trace of helplessness showing in his eyes.

"Roxanne, you're not like you used to be, are you?" he said.

I didn't answer.

After booking my flight out of town, I put my phone away.

I looked out the window and let out a wry smile at myself.

How could someone who had died once ever go back to who they used to be?

I'd heard Stefan make excuses for Phoebe so many times in my previous life, it was like déjà vu.

I didn't even need him to finish. I could predict every word before he said it.

Why couldn't I trust him a little more?

Why must I be so hard on Phoebe? She was just a kid.

But were they really as innocent as they claimed to be?

When I tagged along with Stefan to his high school reunion, Phoebe made sure to wear the same dress as me and hovered near him the whole night.

Some clueless classmates would sometimes mistake her for Stefan's wife, and she'd flash a shy smile, never bothering to set them straight.

Later, a photo of her and Stefan ended up plastered on the front page of the school's official account.

A few months ago, on our third wedding anniversary, I spent hours cooking up a whole feast for us.

He'd barely sat down, hadn't even tasted a single bite, when Phoebe called. He dropped everything and rushed out.

All because she'd come up with a new recipe and insisted he come over immediately to try it.

Driven mad by fury, I overturned the table, sending dishes flying, and told him, "If you walk out that door, don't bother coming back."

Sure enough, he didn't come home the whole night.

The next morning, Phoebe posted on her feed: [Boss said I fed him really well.]

She attached a shot of the Bentley's dashboard and a selfie in the passenger seat.

And, of course, there was a photo of a gourmet lunchbox.

It drove me crazy.

Stefan and I kept having more and more silent standoffs and arguments.

But every time I went off the rails, Stefan would only shoot me that icy stare and say in a flat, cold voice, "Are you done throwing a fit yet?

"Roxanne, is doubting me all you ever do? Seriously, don't you have anything else going on in your life?"

The car came to a gentle stop at my destination.

When I snapped out of it, I realized Stefan had been staring intently at me the whole time.