Early morning. By the sea.

Under the faint glow of dawn, four wooden crosses stood on the beach.

Tied to them were a middle-aged couple and a younger man and woman. Their bodies were covered in blood, faces battered, limbs twisted at disturbing angles.

It was obvious—the torture they’d been through was beyond words.

At the base of each cross, dry wood was piled high.

All four trembled, eyes wide with panic, watching the man standing a short distance away.

He was in a suit, eyes bloodshot. The cold sea breeze whipped through his messy hair, revealing a face unreal in its beauty—like something out of a dream.

In front of him sat a crystal coffin, covered in rose petals.

Inside lay his wife—gone for some time now.

Her once delicate features were now pale and sunken, her body so thin she looked like a broken doll. Even the tight press of her lips seemed to scream of the pain she'd endured.

And all because of the monsters tied up before him.

Stephen Yeabsley reached out and gently caressed her cold face. His shoulders trembled, tears falling fast.

Voice hoarse and shaky, he whispered, “Laura, they’re all here. The ones who ruined you. Once they're gone, I’ll go with you. After that, no one can ever keep us apart again, okay?”

Then he turned and walked toward them, pulling a lighter from his pocket.

It was the only gift she ever gave him.

She’d hated him—truly, deeply. And he had loved her with everything he had. All she gave him was this lighter, tossed carelessly his way when she begged him to help her beloved escape trouble.

He treasured it like gold, kept it by his pillow every night—though he didn’t even smoke.

Today, he’d use it to send these four devils straight to hell.

Mr. Collins moaned weakly, his mouth barely able to form the words. “Please… don’t kill me… please, I’m begging you…”

He had none of that arrogant air he’d shown when he forced Laura to seduce a greasy, fifty-year-old official just to help his precious son out.

Beside him, Mrs. Collins shrieked incoherently. Her tongue had been cut out—courtesy of Stephen—after all the cruel, disgusting things she had said about her daughter, even after Laura died.

Jade Warner sobbed, her voice trembling. “Mr. Yeabsley, let me live, please… I can be yours, okay? I’m prettier than she ever was… don’t kill me, please…”

As she spoke, she tried to jut her chest out, even attempted to sway her hips—though her waist had been broken and her body barely moved.

Louis Grant jumped in, voice panicked. “Take my company! I’ll give you everything! Please, man, I’m my family’s only son—my parents will die without me!”

Stephen’s smile was cold, almost too calm.

His eyes half-lidded, lips curled slightly—hopeless, tired, done.

Laura had grown up under that toxic nightmare of a roof—parents who only wanted a son, who hid their abuse behind fancy cars and big houses. Made her go to elite schools and dress pretty, just to keep up appearances.

But it had always been fake. All of it.Her brother's sneakers cost over fifty grand, but before Laura Collins turned fifteen, she had never even tasted a bite of meat.

Snacks? Not a chance. She used to be so desperate she’d sneak into the trash just to lick the chocolate wrapper her brother had tossed out.

When she grew up and looked pretty, they started forcing her to attend business parties, buttering up sleazy old men to score deals for the family.

And that disgusting couple? One was just the maid’s daughter, the other her supposed fiancé.

They got together behind her back, putting on a fake act of kindness that Laura—starved for warmth—foolishly took as light in her life.

But in truth, they were demons dragging her deeper into a nightmare. In the end, they even tricked her into giving up a kidney!

Now they expect mercy?

Yeah, right. Laura had begged them too, back when she was about to die.

And what did they do?

Monsters. Every single one of them.

Let them burn.

Whoosh—flames roared as the fire reached the fuel-soaked wood piled beneath them, engulfing their bodies within seconds.

Amid their screams, Stephen Yeabsley calmly pocketed the lighter, then gently picked up Laura.

Her body had been specially preserved. It wasn’t rotting—just cold, soft, almost weightless.

As the cries behind him faded, Stephen stepped into the waves with Laura in his arms.

One step. Two. Three…

He was smiling. Content. As if Laura was right ahead, waiting with open arms.

"Laura… don’t leave me behind. Let me go with you, please."

—

Silence.

Then, all of a sudden, Laura jerked awake to someone shouting nearby.

"Three hundred million? That’s chump change for Stephen Yeabsley! Isn’t he head over heels for you? Can’t even pull off something this small—I really wasted my time raising a worthless idiot like you!"

It was the cold, cruel voice of her father—Mr. Collins—on the phone.

Laura's chest tightened. Floods of memories poured back in.

She didn’t have time to answer. Her eyes scanned the space around her.

The familiar first floor of the Collins’ villa. An expensive digital clock flashing an all-too-familiar date and time.

It hit her. She wasn’t just back from the dead.

She’d traveled six months into the past.

And she was awake now.

This was inside a book. A fictional world. And she was now a system-bound character with a pregnancy mission.

Originally born into this world through transmigration, she could fully immerse in her role without worrying about stealing the male lead from the original heroine.

Last time, she got played by the plot, made dumb choices, and died for it.

Stephen—who truly loved her—died with her.

Not this time.

She was wide awake now and there was no way she’d let some plot force control her again.

She was going to finish her tasks and earn those juicy rewards the system promised.

Right now? It was three months into her marriage with Stephen.

Her father’s company was crumbling. Her brother’s behind bars for murder.

Yet the man who always treated her like garbage now wanted her help—and still acted like she owed him the world.

What a joke.

Trying to guilt her in the name of family, yet never showing her a shred of it. Disgusting.To them, she was nothing more than a dog they could call and dismiss at will.

Laura Collins let out a sharp laugh. “Three hundred million? You’re seriously saying that’s no big deal?"

She looked at Oswald Collins like he was a joke. "Dude, did you forget to brush your teeth for days or something? That breath could knock a person out."

"My dowry—one-point-five billion. Every cent went into bailing out your sinking company. Now you come begging for more?"

"Three hundred million? I could buy your whole family’s lives and still have cash left to cruise around the city eight times over."

"You think you're smart enough to run a business? Please. That sorry excuse of a company should’ve shut down ages ago. Might as well turn it into a chicken farm—you’d at least get eggs and fresh air. Disgraceful.”

She wasn’t even his biological daughter, so she had zero guilt about tearing into him.

Right now, she was Laura Collins, mission specialist straight out of a drama arc.

Oswald looked totally stunned, like someone had just slapped him with a brick.

What the hell just happened?

His daughter, the one who’d always been meek, obedient, and desperate to please—now talking back to him like a total spitfire?

And her clapbacks were brutal—each word like a slap in the face. His blood pressure spiked on the spot, and he bit his tongue so hard he winced in pain.

“You little slut, who gave you the right to talk to your elders like that?! Go ask Stephen Yeabsley for money! Now! And tell him to pull strings to get your brother out!”

“Or else I’m done with you—I’m not your father anymore.”

No way—wasn’t this a dream come true?

In her last life, he used this exact line to emotionally blackmail her.

The second he said he didn’t want her as a daughter, she’d spiral—couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep. Whatever he asked next, she gave in.

This time, Laura wasn't fazed in the least. “You said it yourself! Perfect. Starting now, I’m your dad.”

Click.

She hung up straight away—damn, that was satisfying. Pure role-reversal vibes.

Just then, a maid walked in. “Miss, Mr. Grant is here.”

Laura’s face barely changed.

She remembered it clearly—last time, Louis Grant had shown up demanding she donate a kidney to her bestie, Jade Warner.

And he swore he’d marry her after her divorce.

Back then, she’d gotten all emotional and gave away her first kiss like it was romantic fate.

Stephen Yeabsley had come home midway from work to hand her a bank card—only to walk in on that very scene.

His eyes were red, and with a grim twist, he snapped the card in half. Ended up bleeding all over his hand.

And that card?

Held the three hundred million she had begged him for while crying.

Now, the door burst open.

Louis walked in, completely uninvited.

Stephen’s car, if she remembered right, should be pulling up outside any minute now—just like last time.

But this time?

This time, she wasn’t about to let history repeat itself.