Chapter 1
My older sister, Yvette Ormsby, had come down with a strange illness.
When an episode hit, she would burn up and couldn't stop moaning.
Fortunately, my fiancé, Wendell Yount, was a highly skilled doctor.
Every time he treated her, Yvette's symptoms eased right up.
But there was one rule: the treatment had to happen in a private room, with no onlookers allowed.
In my past life, Yvette had a sudden episode on my wedding day.
In front of every last guest, Wendell scooped her up and strode straight for the lounge.
I, Violet Ormsby, peered through the c***k in the door—and finally saw the truth for myself.
Yvette's so-called illness was s*x addiction.
After that, if I so much as looked the slightest bit upset, Wendell would turn cold and lecture me. "A doctor only sees his patients. You're the one with a dirty mind. Yvette's going through hell right now, and you're here nitpicking over this? You're so cold."
Yvette's episodes kept getting more frequent. Before long, Wendell was staying by her side day and night.
Up until the day I died, Wendell never had intimacy with me.
When I opened my eyes again, I was back in the past. It was the day my mom, Sandra Ormsby, told me to fetch Wendell for Yvette's treatment.
I finally said what I'd been holding back. "If Wendell's the only one who can help Yvette, why doesn't she just marry him?"
The second the words left my mouth, Sandra slammed her hand on the coffee table. "Violet, Yvette's already engaged to Tanner Ponder. You're shoving Wendell at her—are you trying to ruin her engagement? Wendell's a doctor. Treating patients is his job. Don't get all unnecessarily jealous right now."
My dad, Randal Ormsby, set down his coffee cup. He frowned and let out a sigh. "Yvette lived in the sanatorium for four straight years. Every time she had an episode, she suffered through it alone with no one to care for her. Now that Dr. Yount can help her, she gets to move back home. If you don't marry Wendell, you'll force her right back there, won't you?"
I stared down at my lap. A bitter ache settled in my chest.
Every word they said was true.
Wendell really was that talented.
All the senior experts at the hospital agreed he was even better than his father, the hospital's director.
The Womble family's eldest daughter, who hadn't gotten pregnant in five years of marriage, conceived after a few months of his treatment and later gave birth to boy-girl twins.
Patrick Womble, head of the Womble family, was so overjoyed that he donated an entire research building. Wendell's name was still carved above its entrance to this day.
A man like that should never have crossed paths with me.
Back then, his father's hospital needed to expand. They'd set their sights on a plot of land owned by my grandfather.
It was a simple trade—land for a marriage.
And just like that, both families settled the arrangement without much thought.
Otherwise, Wendell—the man every socialite in our circle was desperate to land—would never have ended up with me.
Everyone in the city knew Wendell was the most wanted bachelor around.
He was handsome, easygoing, and always wore a soft, warm smile.
I used to think I'd won the lottery with this engagement.
In my past life, I'd only felt sorry for Yvette at first.
Sandra mentioned offhand how good Wendell was at his job, and I immediately suggested he come check on Yvette.
I hadn't expected one single visit to make such a difference.
After that, he visited the sanatorium once a month to treat Yvette.
But the treatment always happened in a private room—doors and windows shut tight, no one else allowed inside.
I never asked questions, and Yvette never brought it up.
All I knew was that she was finally getting better. She could leave the sanatorium, come home, and sit with Sandra in the living room for dinner.
Then came my wedding day.
The hall was bright with lights, soft music filling the air. Every guest sat in their place, watching the ceremony.
Yvette had a sudden episode. Her face flushed bright red, and she shook so violently that she slid right out of her chair.
In front of everyone there, Wendell scooped her up and walked straight for the lounge.
I stood outside the door, my heart pounding.
Before I knew what I was doing, I leaned in to look through the c***k.
That was when I saw it. Yvette's so-called illness was s*x addiction.
