Late-stage stomach cancer.

Calliope Godfrey never imagined that death would knock this early-she was only twenty-eight.

She used to be the envy of all of Riverbend, the Mrs. Sterling, married to Lucien Sterling-handsome, wealthy, and famous for being deeply devoted to his wife.

Seven years of marriage, and he treated her like day one. He remembered all her quirks, put up with her temper, kissed her good morning without fail, and every night, without missing a beat, warmed up a glass of milk to help her sleep.

He didn't have women hovering around. It really felt like his world had room for only one person-her.

She used to think she was the luckiest woman alive. Until twenty-eight hit her with a cancer diagnosis like a punch to the gut.

It happened fast. Her once healthy, radiant face sank in; she shed weight like crazy. The pain? Constant. Unrelenting.

Lucien seemed even more devastated than anyone else. He dropped all his non-urgent work, stuck to her like glue, held her hand, and kept telling her, "Don't be scared, Calliope. I'll do everything I can-everything."

He was calling up top-tier specialists, splurging on the best meds money could buy. When the chemo made her throw up, he held her and patted her back. When she cried over losing her hair, he told her every version of her was still beautiful.

The doctors, the nurses, friends who came to visit-everyone said he was the definition of loyal and loving.

Calliope was completely wrapped up in it. She leaned on that love to survive the endless rounds of treatment. Sometimes, she even felt guilty-like she was dragging him down.

Then Alice Hughes, her best friend from med school, came to see her. She stood by the bedside, staring at the empty glass of milk with a frown.

"Calliope, your cancer's progressing way too fast. This doesn't add up."

Alice worked at a top hospital. Sharp as ever. "I looked into the meds Lucien's been giving you. All legit and gentle. Nothing that matches what you're going through..."

A strange chill ran down Calliope's back. At Alice's urging, she kept half a glass of milk the next night and didn't say anything.

Three days later, Alice returned, looking more pale and shaken than Calliope had ever seen. She handed her a report, voice trembling.

"There's something hidden in the milk-a compound that slowly erodes the stomach lining. Long-term exposure can cause cancer. Calliope... this isn't illness, it's poisoning."

Poisoning.

This one word hit like bullets straight through her chest.

Her brain shut down. Everything went silent, except for the buzz in her ears. She couldn't even make out what Alice said next. All she could see was Lucien's loving face, flashing in her mind like a ghost.

It couldn't be him. No way. No freaking way!

Like someone losing control, she combed through seven years of memories over and over, trying to catch some flaw, some clue. But all she could see was affection, attention-love.

Why? What had she done that made him hate her enough to pull off a seven-year-long plan just to kill her?

Once the seed of doubt took root, it grew like wildfire.

One afternoon, when Lucien was out of town, she pushed herself out of bed and used a code she'd happened to learn long ago to unlock a drawer in his study-one he'd always kept locked.

No business docs. Just a navy leather journal.

Hands shaking, she took a deep breath and flipped it open.

Normal stuff at first. Then, right around the time they were planning their wedding seven years ago, the handwriting turned messy. Angry. Dark.

[October 2018, rainy day. My Angelina is gone. If it hadn't been for Calliope nagging me non-stop to go try on some stupid wedding dress, I might've answered her call in time. She must've been so scared... It's all my fault. I failed to protect her.]

[November 2018, overcast. Calliope was laughing so brightly in that wedding dress, and honestly, it made me sick. Why does she get to smile like that? She's the one who got Angelina killed. She took away the love of my life. So now, she'll spend her life paying it back.]

[December 2018, sunny. The wedding's done. And now, the game begins. I'll drown her in sweet lies, make her fall for me completely. Then, right when she's happiest? I'll take it all away. Death is easy. I want her to rot slowly in despair. The doctor said that drug works slow, over several years... Perfect. I've got time.]

...

[May 2025. She said her stomach hurt today. Looks like the meds are finally kicking in. Saw her pale face and for a second? I felt... satisfaction. Angelina, are you watching? I'm getting justice for you.]

Every word, every sentence, like searing hot brands pressed into her chest.

Seven years-what she thought was love turned out to be a carefully planned murder!

His nightly tenderness, the loving glass of milk he'd bring her-it was poison. Poison with a smile.

It all came crashing back. That day they tried on wedding outfits, she vaguely remembered the news reporting a violent crime in the west side of town. A woman had been murdered.

That woman... was Angelina Miller. And Lucien blamed her, blamed her hopeful little phone calls, for it all.

The grief, the absurdity of it all-it hit her like a tidal wave. She collapsed onto the cold floor, clutching that diary to her chest, feeling completely hollowed out.

The truth hurt far worse than the cancer ever did. Just knowing the reason behind it all was killing her faster than the disease.

When Lucien came home and saw the diary in her hands, his eyes flickered-panic, then a strange sense of relief, before it all faded to cold indifference.

He didn't even try to make up an excuse.

As the last moments of her life ticked away, she looked at the man she'd loved for seven years...

the same man who had hated her for just as long. With her dying breath, she forced out the final words from her cracked lips: "Lucien... If there's a next life, I swear I won't marry you."

Then, everything went black.

*****

When she came to again, it was a mess of voices and harsh sunlight that brought her back.

"Mrs. Sterling, do these shoes fit? They're handcrafted crystal heels from an Italian designer, limited edition-they'll match your dress perfectly!"

Calliope's eyes flew open and her heart nearly jumped out of her chest. Bright lights, mirrored walls, designer gowns... She was in the VIP fitting room of a bridal boutique.

And staring back at her in the full-length mirror-was her 22-year-old self.

She was alive. Back in that moment, seven years ago, the very day she and Lucien were trying on wedding outfits.

The memory of her cancer, of his betrayal, of all that unbearable pain-it surged up, almost drowning her. But tangled in that ocean of emotion was also a burning wave of fury and the wild thrill of getting a second chance.

Lucien... you never saw this coming, did you?

The universe handed me a do-over.

This time around, I won't be the love-blind idiot I once was.

What you owe me-I'll make sure you pay it back, every bit of it. With interest.