On the night of our wedding, my wife’s childhood sweetheart posted a suicidal message on social media, standing at the edge of a cliff.
My wife rushed to go to him but was stopped by her father.
"If you don’t stay and complete the wedding tonight, the Smith family will disown you!"
In the end, she relented. But the next day, news broke that her childhood sweetheart had fallen to his death.
To this, my wife reacted coldly—not shedding a single tear.
Thirty years later, when I, having devoted my entire life to the Smith family, lay gravely ill in bed, my wife and son doused me in gasoline.
"Matthew Wilson, if not for your relentless social climbing, I could have lived a happy life with Christopher!"
"Let me tell you the truth—our son was conceived through IVF using Christopher’s sperm! How does that feel? Your whole life was spent raising another man’s child!"
As the flames engulfed me, I drew my last breath in excruciating agony.
When I opened my eyes again, I was back on our wedding night.
...
"Isabella Smith, if you don’t stay and complete the wedding tonight, the Smith family will disown you!"
Mr. Smith’s stern voice rang in my ears.
Suddenly, the searing pain of the flames faded, and I shuddered violently.
Taking in the wedding decorations around me and Isabella sitting on the bed in her wedding dress, sobbing uncontrollably, I realized—I had truly been reborn!
Feeling my gaze, Isabella turned her red, swollen eyes toward me, shooting me a look full of hatred.
"Matthew, don’t think that forcing me to stay will make me love you. I’ll hate you for the rest of my life!"
Her gritted teeth and venomous expression mirrored exactly the way she had looked at me before setting me on fire in my past life.
A chill ran down my spine, and my hands trembled uncontrollably.
Just then, Mr. Smith turned to me.
"Matthew, don’t take Isabella’s words to heart. She’s just upset right now."
"I’ve watched you grow up—your character and abilities are unmatched. You’re a hundred times better than that Christopher!"
"We couldn’t entrust Isabella to anyone but you."
Patting my shoulder affectionately, he added, "Keep an eye on her. The ceremony resumes in half an hour."
The moment he left the room with his cane, Isabella hurled a teacup at me.
"How dare you, a penniless nobody, compare yourself to Christopher? You disgust me!"
The cup struck my brow, shattering on impact. Blood gushed from the wound, warm and thick.
But I didn’t make a sound.
This pain was nothing compared to the torment in my heart.
Seeing the blood, Isabella flinched, a flicker of guilt crossing her face. "Why didn’t you dodge?"
Before I could answer, her expression twisted back into disdain.
"I get it. You’re planning to go out there injured, playing the victim in front of my parents again!"
"Matthew, you’re nothing but a despicable, shameless villain!"
Watching her seethe with hatred, I suddenly realized how futile and laughable my devotion had been in my past life.
My parents were employees of the Smith family. In a car accident, they saved Mr. Smith’s life at the cost of their own.
After the tragedy, five-year-old me was taken in by Mr. Smith as his foster son.
For twenty years, the Smiths treated me as their own. At first, Isabella adored me, following me around like a little shadow, calling me "big brother" with endless affection.
Until Christopher appeared. His rebellious nature fascinated her, pulling her deeper into his world.
