"Isabella, you have the audacity to come back?"

At the entrance of the Whitmore Manor, an elegant lady stared at her in disdain.

Isabella managed to smile, "When I went to prison three years ago, I never formally divorced Julian Whitmore. After all, now that I’m released, I should come home, right? Wouldn't you say, mother?"

The lady who was referred to as "mother" had her face trembling with anger, seemingly affected by something downright unluckly.

This was her mother-in-law, Margaret.

In the eyes of the Whitmore family, Isabella, their daughter-in-law, was indeed considered as a harbinger of doom.

A murderer who had served time in prison brought nothing but disgrace to them.

"Look at yourself—filthy," Margaret spat. "Aunt Bet, take her to the west wing to clean up. We can't have her misfortune polluting this house."

The west wing was where the Whitmore family's servants stayed. It showed how much the mother-in-law despised her.

Aunt Bet quickly walked over, "Missus, if you would follow me."

She was still wearing the ragged clothing from three years ago when she entered prison. Compared to the grandeur of this house, she indeed seemed out of the place.

"Is the young master at home?" Isabella inquired.

Aunt Bet showed a bit of surprise. In the past, the young master’s wife was very afraid of the young master, rarely daring to say more than she was asked. After prison for three years, she suddenly asked about him on her own?

The young master's wife... she seemed somehow different from before...

The warm water soaked over her, Isabella closed her eyes, indulging in the rare moment of relaxation.

"Isa, Be, Lla."

She muttered this name, the name of the owner of this body, the hint of a smile appearing at the corner of her lips.

Isabella was born into a prestigious family in New York. However, due to her family's decline, her father's gambling addiction, and her mother's death from illness, her stepmother treated her poorly.

At the age of 22, she was married off by her family to the eldest son of New York's top military tycoon family, the Whitmore Family, and became the Madam of the Whitmore family.

The marriage seemed nice on the surface. However, Julian Whitmore, the eldest son of the Whitmore Family and the founder of the Blue Hawk Special Forces unit, had been injured during a drill years ago and was now disabled.

Isabella had a weak temperament and shared little feelings of love and companionship with Julian Whitmore. Furthermore, she was coldly treated and tormented by her wicked mother-in-law. Three years ago, she was blamed for the murder of a stranger and imprisoned.

"What a tragic life," she said, rubbing her temple. When she woke up in this body, she had these unpleasant memories; that belonged to Isabella.

But she was not Isabella.

Isabella had died in jail from endless torment, and she, rather inexplicably, had woken up in this body.

For the rest of her life, she would live as Isabella.

"Well then, Isabella, I'll live for you." She said and left the bathroom, changing into a simple home outfit.

“Today there are drills at the training ground. The master and the madam just left with the second young miss, the eldest young master's whereabouts are unknown, and only the third young master is home." Aunt Bet informed her.

She frowned a little. Third young master? His name was Blake Whitmore, from what she could remember. He was the most disruptive playboy of the family. Isabella seemed to dislike him.

Better avoid him, then.

The last thing she needed was unnecessary trouble, especially from someone like him. Keeping a low profile was the wiser choice—for now.