Felicia Pascal reborn on her wedding day with Willard Cobb, the first thing she did was connect Willard first love and invited her back.

In her previous life, she got what she wanted—being Willard's wife. But no matter how hard she tried, he remained cold, refusing intimacy, and eventually sent her father, Darren Pascall, to prison.

This time, her story would have a different ending.

The sound of running water from the bathroom snapped Felicia out of her thoughts.

She picked up her phone and called to arrange for someone to pick up Alicia Cohen—Willard's childhood sweetheart—in Switzerland.

Just as she hung up and turned around, she met Willard's eyes.

He had just stepped out of the bathroom, clad in a bathrobe, his hair still damp. He approached her slowly, his expression icy. "You're bringing Alicia back?"

His eyes, devoid of any emotion, were like a knife, twisting deep in Felicia's heart.

She clenched her phone until her knuckles turned white, but managed a casual smile. "Isn't that what you want, given how close you've been since childhood?"

She kept her gaze fixed on his unreadable face. "I just found out that my mom gave Ms. Cohen a lot of money and forced her to go abroad. When Ms. Cohen comes back, I'll make it up to her. She can have whatever she wants."

Anger burned in Willard's eyes. "How generous of you, Felicia!"

With that, he strode out and slammed the door shut. The loud bang echoed through the bedroom.

After staring at the door for a long moment, Felicia was finally certain he wasn't coming back. Then she slumped weakly onto the bed.

In her previous life, during the third year of their marriage, Willard was found and brought back by his grandfather, Gregory Cobb—the head of the family—and named as his heir.

As soon as he assumed control of the powerful Cobb Group, he sent for Alicia in Switzerland.

At the same time, he acquired the Pascall Group, threw Darren in prison, and had Felicia's legs broken.

It was only then that Felicia learned the truth. To fulfill her wish, her mother, Laurel Pascall, had split Willard and Alicia up behind her back.

Perhaps that was the moment Willard's hatred for her took root.

Now that she had been given a second chance, all Felicia wanted was to keep her family safe.

She wouldn't try to win Willard's heart again—it simply wouldn't happen.

For the next three days, Willard didn't return to the Cobb's villa.

Today, he was supposed to go with Felicia to visit her parents, yet she was sure he wouldn't come.

Grabbing her bag, she decided to go alone. But just as she reached the courtyard, the housekeeper's voice rang out. "Welcome home, Mr. Cobb."

Felicia stopped in her tracks, watching as Willard stepped out of the car.

She was overcome with an indescribable emotion—perhaps surprise, since she had assumed he'd forgotten the arrangement.

Just as she started to approach, the other rear door opened. A beautiful woman in a white dress came into her view.

It was none other than Alicia!

Felicia froze, a wave of bitterness and jealousy coursing through her.

A self-mocking smile tugged at her lips as she thought, "Now it makes sense. He isn't coming back for me and never would."

Noticing the servants trailing behind Felicia, their arms laden with boxes of gifts, Willard, walking over with Alicia, paused, a puzzled frown on his face. "Where are you going?"

Felicia glanced at Alicia, then back at Willard. "You're supposed to come with me to visit my parents today. Remember? But since you're occupied, I'll go alone."

Willard studied her face and eyes, surprised to find no trace of the anger he had expected.

Once the servants had finished loading the gifts into her car, Felicia walked toward the gates, ignoring the probing stares of Willard and Alicia behind her.

At the Pascall's villa, after chatting with her parents for a while, she retreated to the small attic, her eyes red.

It was her precious secret base, a trove of mementos she had collected since childhood and gifts from family and friends.

In her previous life, after her family went bankrupt, the villa was sold, and she never set foot there again.

Tears filled her eyes as she looked at the beloved objects and the photos of Willard on the wall.

Meanwhile, from the attic doorway, Willard watched as Felicia stared blankly at a music box that felt somewhat familiar to him, her eyes red-rimmed.

Suddenly, his chest tightened as a strange scene flashed across his mind.

In a torrential downpour, Felicia—dressed in a ruined, extravagant gown—knelt miserably on the ground, her pale fingers clutching his suit.

"Willard, my dad was framed. He'd never do such a despicable thing!

"Willard, let's get a divorce. I'll disappear from your life forever. Please... help my dad!"

Her voice, raw with desperation and sadness, felt as real as if he were hearing it right there.

Willard frowned, subconsciously rubbing his temples.

Was it a hallucination? He'd never seen Felicia so distraught. Where could that vivid vision have come from?

He shook his head, trying to dispel the lingering frustration, and knocked on the door.

Felicia looked up instinctively, surprised to see him.

She thought, "Alicia has just been brought back to the Cobb's villa. They haven't seen each other for so long. Shouldn't he be with her?

"Unless... he came here to honor his promise?

"Could it be that he... actually cares about me, even just a little?"

But in the next second, Willard's icy voice shattered her fleeting hope.

"Alicia isn't feeling well. Could you get Dr. Meyer to check on her? He's one of the best."

Sunlight streamed through the window and fell upon Felicia, yet a sudden chill seeped into her bones.

After a moment of heavy silence, she slowly rose to her feet and said flatly, "OK."

Now she understood why Willard had left Alicia's side to seek her out.

In her previous life, this realization would have shattered her heart. But now, she felt an eerie, unsettling calm.

Eric Meyer was the doctor Laurel had hired to help improve her health. At Felicia's request, Laurel had scheduled him for a session at the Cobb's villa in three days.

After dinner, Felicia and Willard went back to the Cobb's villa.

They sat close to each other in the back seat of the car, yet she felt a world apart from him.

She turned her gaze away from him—immersed in his work—and looked out at the passing world beyond the window.

This time, she refused to be consumed by the exhausting triangle between Willard, Alicia, and herself. She'd live for herself.

When they arrived at the villa, Willard suddenly said, "Thank you."

Without another word, he got out of the car and walked toward the courtyard, not even glancing back.

Staring at his retreating figure, Felicia felt a sudden wave of release, as if invisible chains around her heart had shattered. In a clear, brisk tone, she said, "Willard, let's get a divorce."

He jerked his head back abruptly, fists clenching unconsciously at his sides. A trace of coldness flashed in his deep-set eyes.

"What are you talking about? You ask for a divorce the moment Alicia returns? Are you trying to ruin her reputation in showbiz?"

The blade of his harsh words plunged deep into her heart.

His first thought was to protect Alicia—even though Felicia hadn't even mentioned her name.

He cared for Alicia so deeply that even when granting her a proper status, his first concern was protecting her reputation. Yet toward Felicia, he held nothing but suspicion. Though she was willingly stepping aside so he could be with the one he loved, he still accused her of scheming.

A peculiar feeling stirred within Willard when he saw Felicia's red-rimmed eyes, and he instinctively averted his gaze.

The feeling was so unsettling that he turned to leave, not wanting to see her red eyes for even another second.

For the next few days, both Alicia and Willard left early and returned late, and they barely saw each other.

The villa was cavernous, and Felicia had grown accustomed to being the only one sitting at the long dining table.

That morning, she was awakened by a knock at the door.

The housekeeper's voice sounded from the hallway. "Mrs. Cobb, Mr. Cobb wishes to see you as soon as possible. He's waiting downstairs."

Still groggy, Felicia was puzzled. How come Willard was home today?

By the time she had washed up and gone downstairs, she found Willard, Alicia, and Eric in the living room.

Her hand tightened slightly on the railing, a pang of bitter understanding shooting through her.

Willard, who went to the office without fail every day, had stayed home today all for Alicia.

He had even asked her to go downstairs to provide a cover for Alicia's examination, lest their arrangement tarnish Alicia's precious reputation.

Eric examined Felicia with his usual skill and efficiency. Finding nothing seriously wrong, he prescribed some daily maintenance medication.

After instructing her on its use, he packed his bag to leave. Just then, Willard said, "Dr. Meyer, could you examine Alicia as well?"

Eric couldn't help but shoot a surprised glance at Felicia. His arrangement, after all, was exclusively for her care.

Felicia's hand holding the coffee paused for a second. Then she looked up and said softly, "We would appreciate it, Dr. Meyer."

Eric nodded and proceeded to examine Alicia before writing out a prescription for her.

A maid stepped forward to pour coffee. Suddenly, her hand slipped, and the scalding coffee pot she was holding fell, shattering directly toward them.

Startled, Felicia instinctively moved to shield Willard.

But Willard, seated beside her, leaped forward and protected Alicia instead.

Staring blankly at his retreating back, Felicia felt the sight slice through her like a sharp blade, piercing straight into her heart.

People always said that instinct revealed the truth.

In that moment, Willard, the man she had tried to protect, was shielding another woman.

Tears blurred her vision, and the bitterness was so overwhelming it felt as though it would tear her apart. She stood frozen, even forgetting to dodge as shattered pieces of the coffee pot hit the floor.

The scalding water splashed onto her bare ankle, and she cried out in sharp pain.

But her soft cry was drowned out by Willard's low growl.

"You can't even do this right? Go see the housekeeper and collect your final paycheck."

Terrified, the maid quickly looked toward Alicia.

A trace of anxiety flashed across Alicia's face as she said softly, "Willard, come on. Don't be so hard on her. I was just startled, that's all. I'll be fine after resting a bit."

But he still looked grim. Noticing this, she continued, "The housekeeper mentioned she comes from a very poor family. Can't we give her another chance?"

Only then did his frown ease, his anger dissipating. "Tell the housekeeper to see that she's properly trained. I won't tolerate another mistake like this."

The maid quickly thanked them.

Willard carefully guided Alicia away from the shattered porcelain on the floor, saying to Felicia, "Alicia is shaken. I'll take her upstairs to rest."

With that, he supported Alicia up the steps, not even glancing at the pale-faced Felicia.

Felicia had believed her heart was already numb from bitterness, yet a fresh, lancing pain struck her now—so sharp it stole her breath away.

In the living room, the maid was quietly clearing the shattered pieces from the floor.

Eric was just about to take his leave when his eyes fell on the large, red burn across Felicia's ankle. He exclaimed, "Mrs. Cobb, you're injured! You need to treat the burn immediately. I'll prescribe an ointment for you. We must avoid scarring."

He carefully applied the ointment himself, offered a few quiet words of instruction, and then departed.

Back in the bedroom, Felicia leaned against the headboard, gazing absently at the wedding photo hanging on the wall.

In the picture, she was radiant, smiling brightly, while Willard was expressionless.

It was clear now that she had been the only one immersed in the joy of their marriage.

Her heart felt as though it had been plunged into icy water. A deep, chilling cold began to spread throughout her entire body, and she could do nothing but wrap her arms tightly around herself.

Just then, Willard pushed open the door and walked in with a glass of warm milk.

Seeing her in bed, her gaze distant and lost, he handed the glass over and said gently, "The housekeeper mentioned your calf is burned. Let me see."

Without bothering to look up at him, she lay down and slid under the blanket, saying flatly, "I'm fine. Go ahead and take care of Alicia. I'm tired and need to sleep."

Her tone was nothing but detached.

Willard's grip tightened around the glass. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but seeing her eyes already closed, he swallowed his words. Without another sound, he turned and left.

Soon, Felicia drifted into sleep—and then, the nightmare came.

In the nightmare, she was back in her past life, begging Willard to help Darren out of jail.

Rain fell in heavy sheets, drenching her completely as she slumped to the ground.

Clutching the hem of his trousers, she pleaded desperately, "Willard, I know you hate me. Come at me then! Let's get a divorce. l'll disappear from your life forever. Please... Help my dad, I'm begging you."

But he turned around, his eyes devoid of any emotion.

Her hands closed around nothing but cold air, and her heart plunged into an abyss.

All that remained was the echo of his icy, merciless voice. "Felicia, the evidence is solid. This is what your family deserves."

Felicia's body trembled violently, and she jolted awake with a sharp cry, "No!"

The echo of Willard's cold, heartless words still pierced her heart like a blade.

She wiped away the tears that had fallen, her sleepiness gone. Draping a coat over her shoulders, she decided to go downstairs for a walk in the garden.

Just as she reached the first floor, the crisp sound of plates and soft murmuring voices drifted from the dining room.

Among them, Alicia's gentle tone was unmistakable.

"Willard, the medicine is so bitter... But I'll take it, no matter what, since you prepared it for me.

"Oh, Felicia was startled today, too, wasn't she? It's so late. Shouldn't you go to her? She might be upset if she sees you here with me."

Felicia held her breath and stood perfectly still, not making a sound.

After what felt like an eternity, Willard's voice came. "It's fine."

He had protected Alicia perfectly during the day. And though she hadn't been hurt in the slightest, he still stayed by her side.

Yet toward Felicia, he had never cared—not whether she was jealous, not if she was injured, not even if she was hurting.

Who held his heart was painfully clear.

The night breeze was cold, piercing right through Felicia and freezing her in place. Though she pulled her coat tighter, no warmth reached her heart.

She glanced back at the soft, warm glow spilling from the dining room, which only deepened the bitterness overwhelming her.

Turning away, she retreated to the bedroom, all desire for a walk gone.

She tossed and turned in bed, sleep stubbornly out of reach.

Then she heard the door push open. Instantly still, she held her breath, not daring to move a muscle. She squeezed her eyes shut, feigning sleep.

Familiar footsteps drew near, then grew faint as they passed by. He must have gone into the bathroom. Soon, the sound of running water filled the room.

In a daze, she fell into sleep and dreamed that a warm, broad hand was gently holding her injured ankle.

When she woke the next morning, she was alone. She reached out to the other side of the bed—only to find it cold and empty.

A faint, self-mocking laugh escaped her. Sure enough, it was just a dream.

Willard had slept in the guest room on their wedding night. In all the days since, he only ever entered their bedroom to use the shower.

Suddenly, someone pounded heavily on the door. The housekeeper's anxious voice broke through, snapping Felicia abruptly back to reality.

"Mrs. Cobb, Mr. Cobb has been hurt! Someone caused trouble at the opening ceremony, and he took a blade for Sir Cobb! His condition is serious!"

Felicia's expression changed drastically. She scrambled for the nearest clothes, threw them on, and rushed out the door.

She reached the hospital as quickly as she could, just in time to see Willard being lifted from the ambulance on a stretcher, covered in blood.

The medical team waiting at the entrance hurriedly transferred him to a gurney.

His white shirt was soaked through with crimson, his face frighteningly pale.

Felicia's breath caught in her throat. For a moment, she felt as if her heart had stopped beating.

Noticing the sweat beading on his forehead, she quickly reached for a tissue to gently wipe it away.

But the moment her hand drew near, he turned his head sharply away as if recoiling from the touch of some vile plague.

Her hand froze in mid-air, and she could only stare at him in stunned silence.

His lips pressed into a thin, hard line before he closed his eyes, shutting her out completely. The message was unmistakable—he had no wish to speak to her, leaving her stranded in a void of helplessness.

Just then, Alicia rushed over. She brushed past Felicia and leaned in close to Willard to carefully wipe the cold sweat from his forehead.

"Willard can't stand being touched by just anyone. We grew up together, and I'm the only one who can go near him."

Her words sent a piercing pain through Felicia's heart again.

Felicia clenched her fists, her nails digging into her flesh. Lowering her gaze to conceal the bitterness in her eyes, she said softly, "I see."

The doctor soon hurried into the operating room, and the procedure began.

Hours passed. Felicia, who had been waiting anxiously by the door, grew more restless with every moment.

Just then, the light above the OR door switched off. The doctor emerged, followed by Willard being wheeled out by the medical staff.

The doctor announced, "The surgery was a success. The patient just needs to be monitored closely overnight.

As the doctor left, Alicia quickly said, "I'll take care of Willard, Felicia. You can go back now."

Thinking of Willard's rejection and his obvious comfort with Alicia, Felicia was overwhelmed by bitterness again. She gently nodded and left the hospital without saying another word.

Worried about Willard, she couldn't go to sleep whatsoever, even till the dead of the night.

It was nearly dawn before she finally felt the faint pull of sleep. Just as she lay down, however, another knock came at the door.

"Mrs. Cobb, Sir Cobb has decided to name Mr. Cobb as his heir. He wants to see you at the hospital now."

Felicia was taken aback by the housekeeper's words.

In her previous life, it had taken three more years before Willard was officially named the heir. How come it was happening now?

She changed her clothes and went downstairs. At the sight of her, the housekeeper approached with a grin. "Mrs. Cobb, once Mr. Cobb takes charge, you'll be the lady of the house!"

Gregory's eldest son had passed away. His second son showed no interest in the family business, and the youngest lived a frivolous, extravagant life, devoted to pleasure only.

Among all the grandsons, only Willard, who was newly acknowledged, possessed a sharp mind for business.

Gregory had always scrutinized potential heirs with extreme caution.

He had never committed to a will or openly favored anyone.

What could have compelled him to make such a hasty decision now?

Felicia smiled bitterly, "Is that really a good thing?"

In her previous life, the moment Willard was named heir, he had begun his retaliation against the Pascall family.

His reason was simple—he had always harbored a deep grudge against Laurel for forcing Alicia away.

But this time, Felicia had already brought Alicia back herself.

If she took the initiative to propose a divorce—to step aside so Willard and Alicia could be together—perhaps he wouldn't go after her family.

The faint murmur of voices from the ward felt unusually harsh, causing Felicia to freeze just outside the door.

"Willard, get better soon... Alright? I've been so worried about you."

The door was slightly ajar. Through the gap, Felicia saw Alicia holding Willard's hand, gently pressing it against her own cheek.

He showed no intention of pushing her away, not even a flicker of impatience crossed his face.

A cold numbness shot from Felicia's hand on the doorknob straight through her body. She let go, her nails digging sharply into her palm.

Walking in now would only intrude, shattering their tender, intimate moment. She was certain neither of them wanted her there.

Turning decisively, she walked away. She had no intention of torturing herself any longer.

Just as she stepped out of the hospital, a deafening clap of thunder shattered the air. The once-clear sky was suddenly choked with dark clouds, and a heavy downpour began without warning.

It reminded her vividly of that day in her previous life—the day she had begged Willard desperately in the relentless rain.

Her thin clothes were soaked through in an instant. She looked ahead and walked slowly toward the parking lot, her gaze empty and distant.

Seeing Felicia like this, the housekeeper was terrified, and her expression changed drastically.

She quickly retrieved a blanket from the car and carefully handed it to Felicia. "Mrs. Cobb, you should dry yourself off before you catch a cold."

After arriving home, Felicia ate the soup the housekeeper had made for her and gazed out at the dark sky.

In her previous life, everything she had done was a mistake, each action only fueling Willard's anger.

He and Alicia were truly in love, and she had been nothing but a joke standing between them.

As much as it pained her, letting go and divorcing him was the only way to protect her family.

She sat motionless through the entire night.

Early the next morning, she let out a breath, turned on her laptop, and printed out a divorce agreement.

Just as she held the papers in her hand, the housekeeper knocked and informed her that Willard wished to see her at the hospital.

"Alright. I'll be there right away."

Felicia's voice was eerily calm as she clutched the divorce agreement, its crisp touch a constant reminder that everything between her and Willard was about to end.

Today, Willard was alone in the ward.

After pushing the door open, Felicia stood by the door and shot him a meaningful glance before approaching the bed.

Looking at her, Willard opened his mouth.

He wanted to ask her—why hadn't she come to see him after he was injured?

Did he mean so little to her?

But before he could speak, she handed him the document.

"Willard, this is the divorce agreement. Sign it."

Willard's expression darkened instantly as his gaze fell upon the divorce papers.

The ward fell into a dead silence.

Felicia's hand, still holding out the papers, remained suspended in the air. His motionlessness puzzled her.

Willard loved Alicia so much. Shouldn't he be eager to sign without hesitation?

Did he think this was some kind of joke?

Setting the papers beside his hand, she raised her voice slightly and stated, "Willard, I'm doing this so you and Alicia can..."

Before she could finish, Willard suddenly snatched the papers and tore them ruthlessly into pieces. He said coldly, "Now is not the time for a divorce. We'll discuss this later."

Hearing this, she couldn't help but look up. At the sight of his icy expression, she was a bit stunned.

He had already closed his eyes, clearly refusing to say another word.

Left with no other choice, she turned and left, more confused than ever. What exactly did he want?

She walked absent-mindedly when she turned a corner and bumped squarely into someone.

Stumbling off-balance, she couldn't help but exclaim.

Just then, someone quickly leaned in and steadied her before she fell.

A male voice tinged with a smile rang out. "You haven't changed at all, Felicia—still just as careless as when you were a kid."

"Tristram? When did you get back?" A surprised smile touched her lips.

She and Tristram Gordon had grown up together, though he'd gone abroad three years ago.

"Not long ago."

As Tristram helped her regain her balance, he noticed one of her pearl earrings had tangled in her hair. He reached out to free it and then tucked the loosened strand behind her ear.

Having always seen him as an older brother, she didn't find the gesture inappropriate.

She smiled and was about to thank him when a familiar female voice rang out behind her. "Felicia, you and Mr. Gordon are childhood sweethearts indeed. See how close you two are."

Turning around, she saw Alicia and Willard standing side by side.

Willard's eyes were utterly cold.

He couldn't recall Felicia smiling at him like this.

Out of the corner of her eye, Alicia noted his darkening expression, and her smile turned icy.

"Mr. Gordon, did you come straight to see Felicia as soon as you returned? Well... She's married now. Perhaps you should mind your boundaries."

Felicia frowned and was about to retort. However, Willard didn't give her a chance. In one swift motion, he strode forward, pulled her firmly back toward the ward, locked the door behind them, and yanked the curtain shut.

Finally coming out of her trance, she struggled. "You're hurting me, Willard. Let go!"

Seeing the impatience flash in her eyes, he was suddenly filled with a nameless fury.

Instead of releasing her, he pinned her down on the bed, ignoring the sharp protest from his own wound, and gripped her chin, forcing her to look at him.

"You're so eager for a divorce," he demanded, his voice thick with anger. "Is it really for my sake? Or is it to be with Tristram?"

Willard's grip on Felicia's chin was iron-tight, leaving her utterly immobilized.

She struggled even harder. "Let go!"

She kept struggling, not even stopping when she struck his wound, just to return to Tristram as soon as possible. That realization struck Willard like a physical blow, and a dark, inexplicable rage surged within him.

Blood soon seeped through his hospital gown, staining it a deepening crimson, yet he seemed numb to the pain. With his left hand, he pinned both of hers above her head. With the other, he yanked open her collar and pressed his mouth roughly to her slender, fair neck, every movement driven by raw, reckless impulse.

Felicia froze for a heartbeat, then began to fight with all the strength she had left, but it was useless.

Tears streamed silently down her cheeks, and when she finally spoke, her voice was broken with sobs.

"Willard, what kind of person do you take me for?"

Her scalding tears fell on Willard's fingertips.

He froze, then withdrew his hand as if burned.

His gaze dropped to Felicia, who was softly crying, and then he quickly looked away.

"Sorry." He stood up, fingers curling tightly at his sides, a flicker of restraint crossing his face.

Felicia immediately crossed her arms over her chest, shielding herself from him with unmistakable wariness. A sharp, suffocating tightness seized his chest at the sight.

"Is Tristram that good?"

A wave of bitterness surged through Felicia's heart at his question.

She chose to let go so that Willard could be with the woman he truly loved. Yet, here he was, accusing her of being involved with someone else.

Clutching her collar tightly, she lowered her gaze to hide the pain in her eyes and drew back slightly. "What's between us has nothing to do with Tristram. You and I aren't cut out for each other, that's all..."

Even now, she was protecting Tristram. Willard's fists clenched at his sides, veins pulsing along the backs of his hands.

"Leave. I'll grant your wish soon enough."

With that, he turned to face the window, no longer sparing her a glance.

She straightened her disheveled clothes and gently wiped the tears from the corners of her eyes.

Two lifetimes entangled with Willard had left her utterly exhausted.

Hearing him finally agree to the divorce brought nothing but a wave of overwhelming relief.

From that day on, she never returned to the hospital.

Since their marriage was nearing its end, she had no intention of disturbing him and Alicia or making a fool of herself again.

The next time she saw Willard was at an amusement park.

She was standing in line for the Ferris wheel with her young nephew when she noticed Willard and Alicia not far ahead in the same line.

Willard was holding a drink, and Alicia leaned against his shoulder, smiling sweetly.

Felicia froze where she stood, the smile on her own lips stiffening as a sharp, familiar pain pricked at her heart.

She remembered all too clearly how she had once begged Willard to bring her here—only to be coldly rejected. He'd said he wasn't interested.

It turned out, he simply hadn't wanted to come with her.

Felicia stared blankly as Willard and Alicia stepped into one of the carriages.

The Ferris wheel began its slow ascent, and she stood motionless, her gaze fixed unblinkingly on them as time seemed to stretch into an endless eternity.

She didn't even remember how she made it home.

That night, as she lay in bed, her mind replayed the same torturous images—Willard's weight above her, and then the tender way he had kissed Alicia at the highest point of the Ferris wheel.

After she tossed and turned for what felt like hours, sleep never came. Finally, she threw on a coat and went downstairs.

As she approached the courtyard, she saw Willard and Alicia stepping out of the car. Alicia was holding a neatly wrapped gift box.

Noticing Felicia, Alicia walked over with a soft, enthusiastic smile. "Felicia, tomorrow is Thanksgiving. Willard has promised to come with me to the cemetery to visit my parents, so he won't be able to go back with you to see yours."

As she spoke, she held out the box.

"This is a gift we picked out for you to take to them."

Felicia's breath hitched. Almost instinctively, she looked toward Willard.

His cold expression offered a silent endorsement of Alicia's words.

Perhaps in his eyes, it was only natural for Alicia to speak with the tone of his wife.

Felicia couldn't bear to stay another second, as each moment only magnified her humiliation.

Clenching her fists, she swallowed hard against the bitterness rising in her throat. Then she said flatly, "No need. I've prepared a gift already."

Without another word or glance in their direction, she turned and strode back toward the bedroom.

As Willard stared at her retreating figure, his gaze darkened.

The next day, as soon as Felicia stepped out of the car, she saw a group of uniformed officials affixing official seals to the entrance of her family's villa.

The onlookers were whispering among themselves while pointing at the villa.

"Have you heard? The Pascall family has gone bankrupt. The CEO was arrested."

Felicia stood in place, stunned.

Her mind went blank. Though noise and chatter filled the air around her, she couldn't hear a thing, as if she'd gone deaf.

She felt suffocated, struggling to breathe.

She pounded her chest lightly, gasping for air.

She felt helpless. Even after taking Alicia back and asking Willard for a divorce, why couldn't she still prevent the same tragedy from befalling the Pascall family? And it happened even earlier than it had in her previous life.

Memories from her previous life flooded her mind.

"Mom... Dad..." Felicia murmured distractedly as she walked toward the Pascall's villa gate.

Why couldn't she change anything? She'd already let Willard go.

A hand reached out to block Felicia.

She snapped back to reality and heard the middle-aged women gossiping, each comment harsher than the last.

"The Pascalls seemed so decent. Who knew the couple were rotten to the core?"

"Yeah, that CEO seemed so refined, but he's been taking advantage of the artists at his company!"

"The company mistreats its employees and withholds their pay. They deserve to go bankrupt."

"Scum like that should get the death penalty!"

Their words made Felicia tremble with anger.

She turned toward them, her eyes wide with fury, and shouted, "That's a lie! My parents wouldn't do that!"

One of the women spat on the ground and sneered, "Yeah, right! That celebrity risked her reputation to expose your dad. You think she'd make that up?"

"If your parents were innocent, why'd they get taken in for questioning?"

Felicia was speechless. She tried to argue, but her soft voice was drowned out by the angry crowd.

People grew more worked up. In the chaos, Felicia was nearly hit several times before law enforcement stepped in to shield her.

After the crowd dispersed, Felicia stood lost and heartbroken outside the house. Then she spotted Willard and Alicia approaching in the distance.

Suddenly alert, she ran over, grabbed Willard's sleeve, and pleaded, "Willard, my father..."

She had only spoken a few words when Willard's brows furrowed. Impatience flashed across his face as he shot her a cold glance that silenced anything else she might have said.

In this life, Willard's attitude was so similar to how it'd been in her previous life.

No doubt—he was behind this again.

Felicia felt something snap inside her. Every last bit of hope shattered.

Willard narrowed his eyes, watching her intently. "Go home. Don't come back here."

With that, he turned away coldly and left.

Felicia stared blankly at his retreating back. She clenched her fists, then glanced back at her family's villa. A piercing ache spread through her.

After hesitating for a while, she started calling shareholders of the Pascall Group and old family friends, one by one.

But as soon as she spoke, they hung up.

When she tried again, their phones were unreachable.

She knew exactly how people kick those who were down.

But she couldn't give up. As long as there was the slightest hope, she had to try.

With no other choice, Felicia got in her car and drove to visit each of them in person.

Only one of her father's longtime friends couldn't bear to turn her away. "On the surface, the evidence against your dad is solid. But we all know your father—he'd never do those things. Willard is your husband. The Cobb family has influence. If you ask him for help, there might still be a chance to turn this around."

Willard's cold gaze flashed through Felicia's mind, filling her with despair.

She knew Willard was the only one who could turn things around.

But she had no idea what it took to make him spare the Pascall family.

If Willard was taking his anger out on the Pascalls because of her, then to save them, she was willing to do anything.

She blankly returned to the Cobb's villa. She sat numbly in the main hall, her body trembling uncontrollably.

She had no idea how long she'd been sitting there when Willard finally walked in.

Felicia snapped back to her senses. Struggling to her feet, she rushed toward him and grabbed his shirt tightly, her knuckles white. "Willard, I was the one who forced you into marriage. My family had nothing to do with it. If I disappear, will you spare my parents?"

Willard's Adam's apple bobbed. He lowered his eyes and stared at Felicia for a long time before speaking, "If you dare disappear, you can forget about saving the Pascall family."

Felicia's heart jolted. The hand clutching his shirt dropped. She clenched both hands tightly.

A wave of coldness spread through her body, making her tremble uncontrollably.

Willard pressed his lips into a straight line. Just one glance at Felicia's red, swollen eyes made his heart tighten.

His hand at his side twitched slightly, but in the end, he said nothing. He turned and walked away.

But he paused at the door and spoke without looking back, "The investigation is still ongoing. If you want to help your family, stay home. Don't go out these days."

From that day on, Felicia stayed indoors.

Somehow, Willard's words gave her a strange sense of reassurance.

Then one noon, when Felicia was praying for her parents in the study, a sudden clap of thunder startled her. A strong sense of unease washed over her.

Just then, the study door pushed open, and Alicia stood in the doorway.

"Felicia, you have to hold on," she said. "The Pascall family is gone. Willard acquired the Pascall Group and gave it to me as a birthday gift."

Felicia felt as if she had been struck by lightning; all the color drained from her face in an instant.

"Boom!"

Another clap of thunder resounded, and in the next moment, torrential rain poured down.

Scalding tears blurred her vision. Felicia shook her head in disbelief and muttered to herself, "No, it can't be. He promised me..."

Could it be that what Willard said that day was just a lie to placate her, an excuse to keep her from making trouble?

Felicia suddenly dashed into the pouring rain, racing at breakneck speed, driving straight to the courthouse entrance.

From a distance, she saw the law enforcement vehicle. Her father was standing there, along with the officers.

In her previous life, her father had been sentenced to death. The entire internet hurled abuse at him, which drove her mother to the hospital, her fate uncertain.

As for her, Willard had broken her leg and locked her up in the Cobb's villa, so she was never able to go out and see them.

It wasn't until a sudden fire broke out at the Cobb's villa, burning her to death, that she was given a chance to be reborn.

As soon as the car stopped, she stumbled out in a hurry, so fast that she nearly lost her balance.

She ran frantically, unable to count how many times she fell, with only one thought in her mind: to go faster.

The physical pain was nothing compared to the agony in her heart.

Why did Willard have to lie to her?

What had she done wrong this time?

She ran toward them, crying all the way, but the heavy curtain of rain drowned out her sobs and shouts.

She watched helplessly as her father was taken away, just like in her previous life.

As the car gradually disappeared from her sight, all the strength drained from Felicia's body, and she collapsed weakly to the ground.

For the past half month, she had been restless day and night, constantly telling herself to trust Willard.

But her small measure of trust only fueled Willard's escalating revenge.

Even after living a second life, she still failed to save the Pascall family.

A rush of hurried footsteps approached from afar. Willard came quickly, holding an umbrella.

Felicia sat in the rain in utter misery, drenched from head to toe, her eyes filled with despair.

His hand gripping the umbrella handle was so tight that the veins bulged and his knuckles turned white.

A bolt of thunder crashed overhead. Willard crouched down, held the umbrella over Felicia's head, pulled her up, and said in a low voice, "Come home with me."

Felicia's body trembled, then she fiercely shook off Willard's hand and shouted angrily, "Get lost! You have no right to pretend to care here!"

The umbrella in Willard's hand fell to the ground, and his other hand froze in midair before slowly dropping to his side.

Felicia grabbed Willard by the collar, her eyes bloodshot and brimming with overwhelming hatred.

"Willard! Loving you was the biggest mistake of my life!"

As soon as she finished speaking, she slapped Willard hard across the face.

Willard's head was knocked to the side by the blow. Meeting the hatred in Felicia's eyes, he couldn't help but feel a jolt in his heart.

A flash of pain flickered in his eyes, but it vanished quickly. "You're not in a stable state right now. I'll take you home."

Felicia ignored him, walking forward in a daze, never looking back.

Her family was gone; she had no home to return to.

Seeing that Felicia was about to leave, he stepped forward and hugged her tightly, dragging her to the car despite her punches and kicks.

From that day on, Felicia fell seriously ill.

Willard locked her up in the Cobb's villa, and in the blink of an eye, a month had passed.

Felicia sat numbly in her chair, quietly gazing out the window, like a soulless clay doll.

What did she have left now?

It seemed she had nothing at all.

Suddenly, a commotion erupted downstairs.

Felicia looked up out the window and saw the maids running past the door, beaming with joy and shouting happily.

"Today is Ms. Cohen's birthday! Mr. Cobb is giving everyone a cash gift, hurry and go get yours!"

Felicia gazed quietly out the window, a sharp chill rising in her heart.

Amid the noisy commotion downstairs, Alicia's laughter rang out.

The bursts of joy only made the upstairs seem even colder and lonelier.

The Pascall Group was given to Alicia by Willard as a birthday present.

Her father had been sentenced to death.

Her mother's fate was unknown.

She herself was imprisoned by Willard in this attic.

The birthday party Willard held for Alicia was a celebration of his successful revenge against the Pascall family.

Felicia unconsciously gripped the windowsill with both hands, squeezing so hard her knuckles turned white.

At that moment, the door was suddenly flung open. A maid walked in, a strange smile curling at her lips, and threw two photographs in front of Felicia.

"Ms. Pascall, Mr. Cobb specifically asked me to tell you that your family is finally all dead."

Felicia stood frozen, staring at the maid's mouth as it opened and closed, saying something.

But it was as if she had gone deaf; she couldn't hear a thing.

She must be hallucinating!

Her mother was only hospitalized, how could she be dead?

Her father's execution date hadn't arrived yet, how could he be dead?

The maid's look of absolute certainty filled Felicia with dread and unease.

Felicia clenched her fists tightly, hesitated for a moment, then finally dared to lower her gaze to the two photos on the floor.

But the scene that met her eyes made her pupils contract and her whole being tremble!

Her mother lay on a snow-white hospital bed, eyes closed, blood spreading across her chest, staining her clothes and the mattress.

Her father lay lifeless on the ground, his wrist torn and bloody.

The crimson in the photos burned Felicia's eyes, turning her entire world blood-red.

Felicia's body swayed and collapsed to the floor, trembling uncontrollably.

She crawled over, sobbing, and carefully cradled the photos to her chest, whimpering for a long time before choking out, "Dad, Mom!"

Seeing Felicia's face twisted in grief, as if her soul had left her body, the maid leaned in close to her ear and said, "Your parents died because of you! If you hadn't interfered in Mr. Cobb and Ms. Cohen's relationship, why would Mr. Cobb have taken revenge on your family?"

"Was it worth it? You schemed so hard to marry Mr. Cobb, but not only did you fail to win his love, you also got your whole family killed. Mr. Cobb wants me to ask you: after taking Ms. Cohen's place for so long, how do you still have the nerve to live?"

Felicia shuddered all over when she heard this.

She clutched the photos to her chest, biting her lip hard.

It was all her fault...

Seeing Felicia trembling and curled up in the corner, the maid's face flashed with satisfaction as she left one last remark.

"Mr. Cobb is about to announce his engagement to Ms. Cohen. You'd better make room for Ms. Cohen as soon as possible!"

Once again, Felicia was left alone in the room.

Scenes of her parents' love and care for her flashed warmly through her mind.

She had no idea how long she sat on the floor. The cold wind blowing in from the window and the dampness on her face, still not dry, felt chilly and suddenly snapped her back to reality.

The festive, cheerful music downstairs sounded harsh, transforming into countless tiny poisonous needles that pricked her all over, making it hard to breathe.

She held the two photos in her hands, gently touching the people in them with her fingertips, and softly laughed, "Mom, Dad, wait for me. I'm coming to atone for my sins."

Felicia put the photos in her pocket, opened the drawer, and took out the lighter she had once given to Willard.

She traced the pattern on it with her finger, then, without hesitation, used the lighter to set the curtains on fire.

Meanwhile, at the entrance of the Cobb's villa.

Willard, dressed in a custom-made suit, stood at the door with Alicia, greeting the guests.

Alicia had just returned to the country and wanted to use the Cobb family's influence to establish herself in the entertainment industry.

Grateful for his adoptive parents' kindness, Willard treated Alicia, who had grown up with him, like a real sister.

He used Alicia's birthday party to invite famous directors and producers from the industry, making it a stepping stone for her career.

From time to time, Willard glanced up at the attic, a fleeting look of gloom passing through his eyes.

His fingers unconsciously curled a few times. For some reason, a strange uneasiness welled up in his chest, growing stronger by the minute.

A famous director approached, but Willard seemed not to notice, standing dazedly in place, lost in thought.

It was only Alicia's timely reminder that snapped him out of his trance.

Just as Willard was about to step forward and greet the director, he suddenly missed a step on the stairs. His heart began to pound violently, and a wave of overwhelming panic swept over him.

At that moment, a commotion erupted behind him. The servants shouted in panic, "The attic is on fire!"

Willard looked up and saw thick black smoke pouring out of the attic window, shooting straight into the sky.

His face changed dramatically, and his heart skipped a beat.

A servant rushed up to Willard, "Mr. Cobb, something terrible has happened! Mrs. Cobb is still inside!"

Willard's face turned deathly pale in an instant, and he dashed madly toward the attic, but stopped short at the doorway.

Through the flames, he saw Felicia's silhouette.

As if sensing his arrival, the woman turned and looked at him quietly.

Felicia's eyes were filled with utter despair.

Willard stood frozen in place.

The next second, the raging fire swallowed her whole.