I was reborn at the exact moment the Don was attacked on his private island. At 8 months pregnant, I threw myself in front of Don Hale. Mercenaries had set the place ablaze and opened fire amid the chaos. My husband, Marcus Mercer, was in charge of security for the celebration gala, but he was out at sea with his first love, Rebecca Sloan. In my previous life, I called Marcus for help. He rushed back in time to save Don Hale, earned the Don's trust, and rose all the way to become his right-hand man, wielding enormous power. But Rebecca accidentally fell overboard and died that same night. Marcus showed no reaction at first. Once we left the island, however, he locked me in a sewage pit in the basement, bound me with a heavy iron chain, and tortured me day and night. "If you hadn't made that call, I wouldn't have left Rebecca. She wouldn't have died. You should experience the despair she felt at the end. You deserve every second of it." I died as my wounds festered, and he even cut my unborn baby out of me. My child didn't survive either. Then I opened my eyes and found myself back on that same day. My phone lay at my feet. I didn't bend down to pick it up. Instead, I stepped in front of Don Hale. This time, I wasn't going to save Marcus.

On our third wedding anniversary, the nude oil painting my husband had personally painted for me was suddenly exposed online. In an instant, rumors about me spread like wildfire. Countless so-called "insiders" appeared online, one after another, all claiming they knew the truth. They swore I had once drunk with them, sung with them, and done all kinds of things I had never even heard of. Every single one of my social media accounts was flooded with disgusting, ridiculous, and vulgar comments. And my husband, Jeffrey Miller, the creator of that painting, wasn't by my side. He was staying with another woman. Because she had accidentally posted the painting online. She felt so guilty afterward that she became emotionally unstable and suffered an asthma attack, forcing her to be admitted to the hospital. Jeffrey was worried about her, so he had to stay by her side. I stared at the call screen as it automatically ended after no one answered. That was the 99th time I had called Jeffrey since everything happened. I took a deep breath and dialed another number. The person on the other end answered almost immediately. I spoke calmly, "William, withdraw the five hundred million investment we gave Jeffrey's company. And one more thing, I want a divorce."