The Club Girl night before my wedding, I caught my fiancé cheating with some club girl. I was so furious I called off the engagement on the spot.
The next morning, I went to return the betrothal gifts—520 grams of gold jewelry.
But Brent Fleming pulled out a full set of official receipts and accused me of swapping his real gold for gold-plated silver.
He demanded I compensate him $90,000 at market price.
I was completely blindsided.
From the moment I received that jewelry, I'd locked it in my safe. I hadn't touched it once until that morning.
How had it turned into gold-plated silver?
When I refused to pay, Brent took the whole thing online.
Sobbing crocodile tears, he painted me as a gold-digger who'd scammed him by swapping fake jewelry for real.
I had no evidence to prove my innocence. All I could do was watch as strangers on the internet tore me apart, hurling curses and death wishes.
I lost my job. My life was destroyed.
Even my parents got dragged into it. The stress landed them both in the hospital.
Then Brent sued me. Without evidence to defend myself, I lost the case.
I was ordered to pay him $90,000.
Even then, the harassment didn't stop.
My father's company—the one he'd built over a lifetime—was driven into bankruptcy. That same day, he collapsed from a heart attack and died.
My mother couldn't bear the grief. She swallowed an entire bottle of sleeping pills and left this world.
I grabbed a knife and went after Brent.
He had me committed to a psychiatric facility, where I was tortured until I died.
When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the night before the wedding.
The night I caught Brent Fleming kissing that club girl.
——
The flickering lights stretched their intertwined shadows into something grotesque.
I hid in a dark corner, biting my lip until I tasted blood just to stop myself from rushing over and tearing him apart.
Because I knew—better than anyone—that this was all part of Brent's plan.
That's right.
He wanted me to catch him cheating. He was forcing me to be the one to call off the wedding.
He'd calculated that my temper would never let me swallow this quietly.
The moment I initiated the breakup, he'd demand the jewelry back and turn the tables on me.
He'd accuse me of swapping $52,000 worth of gold—520 grams he'd given me six months ago—for worthless plated silver.
And then he'd collect a massive payout.
My blood froze in my veins, then surged hot with rage the very next second.
I remembered so clearly—in my final moments of my past life, Brent had his arm around his new girlfriend.
He looked down at me crumpled on the floor like I was garbage, mocking me, saying my parents and I deserved to die.
"All you had to do was pay me the $90,000 and spread your legs so I could have a taste. But no, you had to play innocent and fight back."
"You got your parents killed and ended up branded a lunatic and attempted murderer."
He laughed. There wasn't a shred of pity in his eyes—only smug satisfaction.
"All it took was a little maneuvering, and everything your parents owned became mine. I'll be living large off their money for the rest of my life."
"Hahaha, Miranda Vance—I really should thank you."
"Don't worry. After you're dead, I'll burn a couple extra paper offerings for you."
In that moment, despair swallowed me whole. Hatred coiled around my heart so tight I couldn't breathe.
It should have been a joyous New Year, a time for family reunions and celebration.
Instead, my family was destroyed. I died with my eyes open, drowning in grief and rage.
I prayed countless times—if I ever got another chance, I would make him pay in blood.
I would make him suffer every ounce of pain he inflicted on me and my parents.
Brent Fleming, heaven must be watching—because it actually gave me that chance.
You wanted to force me into calling off the wedding first?
Not this time.
This time, I won't be walking into your trap.
You'll be falling into mine.
