On our tenth wedding anniversary, I drove my car straight into my husband, Ethan Carter, and killed him.
When I opened my eyes again, we were back to the days before our marriage.
In my previous life, at eighteen, Ethan and I were caught after our first reckless night together. My mother demanded justice, and the Carter family had no choice but to take me in as their daughter-in-law. From then on, he despised both me and my mother.
The day my mother died, he danced into my view holding the hand of his beloved Sophia.
“Olivia, your mother’s gone. Now you’re the mother,” he sneered.
“When Sophia’s baby is born, it’ll have to call you stepmom.”
That night, I killed their unborn child. In retaliation, he dug up my mother’s grave and scattered her ashes.
From then on, we became the most infamous “pure hatred” couple in our social circle—each the thorn in the other’s flesh.
After being reborn, I fled the country that very night at eighteen.
When we met again, he had become the sole heir to the Carter family, basking in glory with his beauty by his side. Yet his eyes were red as he cornered me outside the restroom, demanding,
“Olivia, didn’t you dream of marrying me? Why did you run away eighteen years ago?”
So, in this life, I had become the unattainable love of his heart.
“I was too young back then to understand. Now that I do, I don’t want to marry you,” I said with a smirk.
“Of course I ran.”
He grabbed my throat with one hand, and I held my breath, letting my face flush red. When his bloodshot eyes finally released me, I sank my teeth into the flesh between his thumb and forefinger.
The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth before I let go. He pressed me against the wall with alarming force.
“You’re insane, Olivia.”
“You’ve always known I was insane, Ethan,” I shot back, never losing ground.
Truth was, we were both insane.
In our previous life, forced into marriage, we agreed to live separate lives—anything was fine, as long as no one ended up pregnant. At first, we kept our distance, each enjoying our own scandalous freedom.
Then Sophia returned, and he began to force me into divorce, using every tactic short of chopping off my hand to make me sign.
Those were our fiercest days. Even bound by mutual interests, we couldn’t pretend to be at peace. Still, I never believed he would truly leave me.
Then he drove my mother to jump to her death. When he arrived at the memorial hall with a pregnant Sophia, I finally understood—he meant it.
“Ethan?”
A clear, gentle voice cut through my thoughts, and his grip on me loosened.
In the long, dim hallway, I saw Sophia—the white moonlight of his past life.
“The auction’s about to start,” she said sweetly. “I heard Daniel Foster is here today. You’ll need his support for your project. Let’s go in.”
She straightened his collar and tie, smoothed his hair, then turned to me with a polite smile.
“Are you a friend of Ethan’s? Want to join us?”
In our previous life, Sophia and I rarely met, but the hatred never ceased.
This was our first meeting in this life. I shook my head and turned back toward the hall.
The auction was about to begin, but my bidder’s card hadn’t arrived. I picked up a plain white card instead and took a seat.
As soon as I pushed open the door, I saw a room full of familiar faces.
“Well, if it isn’t Miss Bennett?”
