The rainstorm in July was as unrelenting as they come. In the middle of it, a badly mutilated woman was lying in the pool of muddy water, and the back of her hand was being stamped down by another woman's foot. "Miranda, Miranda, weren't you so full of yourself and wouldn't be caught bowing down to me? Well, now watch me as I break all the tendons in your hands and feet!" taunted the condescending woman. She slid a glance at the two men with her, prompting them to take action.

Poor Miranda Yates, whose life was already hanging by a thread. The only thing that was keeping her alive was her pride. Even so, she still stubbornly raised her head and stared at the vicious woman in front of her. She was covered in blood, but her eyes were clear and filled with pure hatred, a look which had only been made particularly eerie in the pouring night.

The woman was scared out of her wits, but soon she regained her previous vindictiveness. "Did I tell you to stand there and look like a bunch of blockheads? Get a move on and deal with her. I want to see if she'll still be staring at me with her repulsive eyes when she's dead!"

Roused into action, the two men obliged and lifted Miranda up and were prepared to throw her into the moat, as if she was nothing but flotsam and jetsam. Miranda knew that today was the day of her death. She found herself in such a miserable situation all because she had trusted the wrong person and misplaced her sincerity.

But every fiber in her body was refusing to surrender to death! As her consciousness was slowly fading away, her entire life flashed before her eyes. She had never known it was possible, but now she knew, and it was too late. She was harkened back to the days when she was still the beloved daughter of the Yates family. If only she had not fallen in love with the wrong person. If only she hadn't wasted six years of her life, squatting in prison just because a man had promised to marry her and make her happy. If only she hadn't unhesitatingly cut off her connection with her family. If she hadn't done all that, her father might never have gone into a cardiac arrest, her mother wouldn't have set herself on fire, and her brother wouldn't have been poisoned and declared brain dead, confined to bed for the rest of his life!

She had lost everything, only for the man to toss off a casual "Get lost!" in her face. His words were playing in a loop inside her ears, a stark reminder of her failure, a manifestation of her disillusionment.

Pain washed over her like a tide—or was it the rain? Having neared the end of her life, Miranda had no fear left in her. Her refusal to die was the only adrenaline pumping through her veins.

At this moment, the woman standing not far away delivered her final blow, with the arrogance and pleasure of the winner: "Oh, I guess you have no idea yet, do you? I changed your father's medicine, and I splashed gasoline all over your mother and set fire on her. Your brother's poison... that was me, too. Even your fiance, who you loved with your entire heart, has been sleeping with me for a long time..." She laughed shrilly. "If you want to blame someone, blame yourself for being too dense to realize what was happening around you! God favors the bold, Miranda!"

The truth made Miranda's blood run cold. She trembled all over, her mind blanking, her senses numbing. In an instant, her eyes were bloodshot, and she screamed with what little strength she had left, "SHERRY EVANS! I SWEAR I WILL MAKE YOU PAY WITH YOUR BLOOD!"

However, as she breathed her last sentence, the fight went out of her cold body, her eyes glazing over until she completely lost consciousness.

Was this how her life was going to end? Her consciousness refused to leave her body, weighed down by the layers upon layers of resentment. She refused to be sent to hell. It wasn't her time yet. She would do anything just to be given another chance at her life.

............

Another bolt of lightning streaked across the sky. Miranda awoke with a start, her eyes wide.

The sunlight filtered in from the gaps between the leaves, and mottled light spots fell on her face.

Looking around, she found that she was lying in a muddy wasteland, and her whole body was dirty and smelly.

Miranda was stunned. "Where… am I? Heaven… or hell?"

"Why does everything look like the day of my 19th birthday?"

The day had been deeply imprinted in her memory. She had been camping in the countryside with a group of classmates and friends, and she had specially prepared to confess to her fiance, Matthew Louis.

But the cold and ruthless Matthew did not care about her feelings at all. "Miranda, what makes you think you deserve me? Who the hell put that idea into your head? You are just another ugly girl to me, and that's what you're ever going to be. I will never, ever fall in love with you. Not in this lifetime, or another, for that matter."

These heartless and humiliating words were like nails hammering into her heart. She was so angry that she ran away and got lost in the process. She lost her footing and rolled down the hillside.

Thinking of the past, Miranda even wanted to bang her head against the tree. "I was nothing but a coward and a b*tch." However, the moment she raised her hand, she realized that her hands were white and flawless, without any filth or scars. But… hadn't she died on that cold rainy night? Disbelief sank in, which then gave way to perplexity, followed by acceptance.

Could it be… Thrilled, she slapped herself hard in the face, and the burning pain spread from her cheeks, tightening her grip on reality. She had been reborn, and she had returned to her nineteen years old self!

"I'm… alive…" She suddenly smiled with tears in her eyes.

She had seared on the forefront of her mind every last one of the injustice and mistreatment she had suffered in her previous life. If in her previous life she had been a girl who had put romance and love above everything else, she would make sure not to make the same mistake again in her second life. It was because of her past naive self that Sherry Evans had had the chance to ruin her life. Her voice—"God favours the bold, Miranda"—was still echoing in her ears as a constant reminder of how far a human being would go to satiate their desire. It was a lesson learned the hard way, and that was what the woman whose greed and desire knew no bounds had taught her.

Fortunately, God had granted her another chance at vengeance. At this time, the tragedy of her family had not yet happened, and she still had a chance to change the course of their fate. Justice may be late, but it would never be absent, and she swore to deliver it with both of her hands! She wiped away her tears and was about to go back when her phone rang in her pocket.

It was a call from Matthew Louis, and the date on her phone strengthened her conviction that she had returned to the day of her nineteenth birthday.

The marriage alliance between her and Matthew had been arranged because his grandfather had wanted to see them marry. Matthew had never acknowledged their marriage, and he had always been making snide remarks at her over the years of their marriage. However, Miranda had been willing to love him and had been devoted to him.

But later, Matthew suddenly changed his attitude and decided to marry her. In retrospect, he only wanted her to be the scapegoat for his beloved woman and to be put in jail for four years. She, with great folly, agreed.

For this reason, she did not hesitate to go against her parents. In the end, her father was forced to a dead end, the Yates family was attacked from all sides and went bankrupt. All of her sacrifices had only amounted to a "Get lost!" from the heartless man.

Thinking of her past life, she smiled bitterly and picked up the call. From the other end of the phone came the harsh voice of Matthew: "Listen here, Miranda, will you stop being such an overly sensitive prima donna? I told you long ago that I don't like you. And now what? Giving me an attitude isn't going to make me change my mind."

Some things never changed, she thought. Once a sc*mbag, always a sc*mbag. She was overcome with an impulse to grab him by the scruff of his neck and administer to him every torture methods that had ever been recorded in the history of civilization. She tilted her head and recalled how she had answered him in her previous life. "It doesn't matter if you don't love me. I'll be content as long as I can stay by your side…"

Jesus Christ, that tone of subservience was making her want to puke, she thought.

The corners of her mouth twitched as she replied word by word: "F*ck. Off. You son of a b*tch!"