"Grace Winslow, didn't you know? Timothy is my son with Caleb."
"As for that son of yours who died so young... I killed him with my own two hands."
"What gave you the right to marry Caleb? To hog the title of Mrs. Forrest for all those years?"
"All of this was supposed to be mine."
"If I could have married him back then, do you think he ever would have married you?"
"You'll never measure up to me. In your next life, try not to be so stupid."
Grace Winslow's eyes widened in sheer disbelief as she stared at the woman before her.
Years ago, Caleb Forrest had brought Ivy White to their home. He claimed she was the wife of a good friend, a brother-in-arms who had been killed on the battlefield. He'd said she and her child were left widowed and orphaned with no one to care for them, and that he felt so sorry for them he had to take them in.
Grace Winslow had never doubted Caleb Forrest.
The moment Ivy White arrived, Caleb Forrest gave her the job Grace Winslow had worked so hard to get. Although Grace Winslow felt it wasn't right, she didn't say much.
For years, she had been like a maid, caring for everyone in the Forrest family, including Ivy White and her child.
For twenty long years.
And now, Ivy White was telling her that the child was Caleb Forrest's.
That she wasn't the wife of some friend, but his one true love—the woman he had always longed for but could never have.
Grace Winslow gripped Ivy White's arm, her eyes bulging. A sound was caught in her throat, but she couldn't manage to speak.
Ivy White laughed, her smile brazen and triumphant.
Even at nearly fifty years old, her face was still impeccably preserved. She leaned in close to Grace Winslow. "Every night, while you were working yourself to the bone taking care of Caleb Forrest's paralyzed, bedridden mother, he was in my room, being intimate with me."
"Grace Winslow, he doesn't love you. Even after more than twenty years of marriage, he still doesn't love you."
"Once you're dead, he'll marry me. And you... no one will remember you."
Grace Winslow's breathing grew ragged. The heart monitor let out a sharp, piercing wail.
Doctors and nurses rushed in, pushing Ivy White aside.
Grace Winslow could not die in peace.
'I gave so much all these years, and I never complained. If Caleb never loved me from the start, then what did all our years of marriage mean? What were they?'
'What were they?'
BEEEEEEP—
The piercing tone echoed through the hospital room. On the heart monitor, her pulse had flatlined.
"Grace?"
A gentle, loving voice whispered beside her ear.
Grace Winslow opened her eyes, dazed and confused.
Her body felt limp and utterly weak, her head was splitting. An unbearable discomfort washed over her. Her chest felt heavy, as if a sodden ball of cotton was pressing down, suffocating her.
'Didn't I already die?'
'Why would I still have feelings after death? Why would I still feel this pain?'
Just as she was wondering, she heard that familiar voice again. "Grace, are you all right?"
"Grace, Vivi's husband just died, and now she's all alone with a child. I know you've always been kind, so it's settled. She'll be staying with us."
"Her husband helped me out a lot when he was alive, he even saved my life. So please, just for my sake, you have to take good care of her and the child, okay?"
Familiar words, a familiar voice... Grace Winslow's eyes snapped open.
The blinding sunlight stung her eyes, almost bringing tears, but she refused to close them. She kept them wide open, staring intently at the people before her.
Caleb Forrest. Ivy White. And in Ivy White's arms, a baby who had clearly just been born.
'I... I've been reborn?'
'Reborn thirty years in the past, back to the very day Caleb Forrest brought Ivy White to our door?'