I sat quietly at the dining table, my hands wrapped around a warm cup of tea.
Across from me, my husband adjusted his cufflinks, looking calm and flawless—just like the man I once trusted with my entire life.
"Are you feeling okay?" he asked, his voice gentle. Concerned.
The perfect husband.
I looked up at him slowly and smiled.
"I've never felt better."
His brows lifted slightly, just for a second. He didn't notice it—but I did. In my past life, I was blind to such details. Now, every micro-expression screamed louder than words.
"You look tired," he said. "Maybe you should rest today. I'll take care of the documents."
The documents.
The ones that stripped me of my company.
The ones that placed my future into his hands.
I nodded obediently. "You always take such good care of me."
He smiled, relieved.
If only he knew.
My phone vibrated gently on the table.
A message from my twin sister.
Twin Sister:
I'll stop by later. I miss you so much.
I almost laughed.
In my past life, I would've cried from happiness. I would've believed she loved me. I would've told her everything.
This time, I typed calmly:
Me:
Of course. I miss you too.
Lies tasted different when you knew the truth.
—
She arrived in the afternoon, dressed elegantly, carrying pastries from my favorite bakery.
"I brought these just for you," she said, smiling sweetly as she hugged me.
Her perfume was the same one she wore the night I died.
My fingers tightened briefly around the teacup.
"I knew you'd like them," she added. "You always do."
I watched her closely as she spoke—how her eyes flicked toward my husband, how her smile softened when he entered the room.
So obvious.
"So," she said casually, "I heard you're finally transferring the company shares."
My husband stiffened for half a breath.
I tilted my head innocently. "Oh? Who told you that?"
She laughed. "He did. I was just worried you might be stressed."
Worried?
No.
Excited.
I placed the cup down slowly. "I trust my husband completely."
Both of them relaxed at once.
That was when I knew.
They thought I was still the same woman.
The woman who loved too deeply.
The woman who believed too easily.
Good.
That made things easier.
—
That night, alone in my room, I opened my laptop.
Instead of the documents my husband prepared, I searched quietly.
Company records.
Hidden shareholders.
Old contracts.
The truth unfolded beautifully.
The company was fragile.
Its power depended on me.
I had time.
I had knowledge.
And this time…
I had no mercy.
I closed the laptop and leaned back, my eyes cold.
"Take everything," I whispered into the dark.
"I'll take it back—piece by piece."