Reborn After Death, Now My Cheating Husband Regretted Everything

Jean’s hand covered hers, firm and coaxing, trying to guide the pen in her fingers. But this time, Samira didn’t move. Her mind was sharp. Clear. She gently pulled her hand back and set the pen down. “Actually,” she said, calm and steady, “I have something for you to sign first. You sign that and I’ll sign this.” Jean blinked, a little caught off guard, but didn’t hesitate. “Sure. Give it to me, I’ll sign it now.” Samira walked over to the nightstand and opened the drawer. From inside, she pulled out a document she’d hidden long ago, something she had quietly prepared in her previous life: a divorce agreement. Back then, she had assumed Jean only married her out of obligation, maybe because of the Jourdain Family’s pressure. She didn’t want to make things harder for him, so she had drawn up the papers just in case. She never had the heart to use them. But now, it felt like the only thing that made sense. She laid the agreement down in front of him. Jean didn’t even read it. He just signed his name like it meant nothing, then slid his document in front of her with a glance that said, “Your turn.” His eyes were focused, a little too eager. And Samira met them evenly. The agreement she gave him would leave her with nothing, no money, no name, no claim. And Jean didn’t care. All he cared about was getting her signature. Probably so he could run straight back to Luna. Something bitter twisted in her chest. Of course. That was all she ever was, an obstacle to remove. She picked up the pen and signed anyway, not because he told her to, but because she was done. Done clinging to things that were never really hers. Not the Jourdain fortune. Not the name. And definitely not Jean. After signing, she quietly folded the divorce papers and slipped them back into the drawer. That was when Jean finally asked, “Wait, what did I just sign for you?” Without looking at him, Samira replied, “Divorce agreement.” He froze for a second, stunned into silence. Then, like he thought she was just being dramatic, he chuckled. “Samira, come on. If you didn’t want to tell me, you could’ve just said so.” He slung his bag over his shoulder, brushing it off like it was nothing. “Anyway, I’ve got stuff to deal with. Don’t wait up, alright? Go to bed early.” A few seconds later, she watched through the window as his car pulled out of the driveway. The headlights slowly disappeared into the night, leaving the villa dark and quiet. Samira stayed there, standing by the nightstand, not moving for a long moment. Her legs felt heavy, like they didn’t quite belong to her. Then finally, she picked up her phone and made a call. Her voice was cool. Almost too calm. “I need you to prepare a body,” she said. “Same height and build as me.” Samira had made up her mind, she was going to use that murder to fake her death and disappear for good. In her last life, after she was killed, she lingered in the world as a spirit for a few days. Long enough to see who had actually done it. The man was unhinged, clearly unstable. And now, with that memory still sharp in her mind, she knew exactly when and where it would happen again. All she had to do was make sure the fake body was in place at the right time. After hanging up, her phone buzzed again. Luna had posted something. [My knight finally helped me kick the bad guy out. He said no one will bully me anymore!] There was a photo attached, just two people leaning on each other. Their faces weren’t visible, but Samira didn’t need to see them. She knew. The "knight" was Jean and the "bad guy"? That could only be her. She let out a humorless laugh, bitter and dry. On her fifth birthday, she had worn a princess dress and Jean had knelt in front of her like a little gentleman, promising to protect her forever. Back then, she believed him. Now, forever felt awfully short. Samira shut off her phone and lay down, not expecting to sleep, but too drained to do anything else. The next morning, just after breakfast, she got a call. “Ms. Jourdain, the jewelry Mr. Zaccaro bought for you last week has been fully serviced and is ready for pickup.” For a second, she just stared at the wall, stunned. ‘That ridiculously expensive piece?’ A week ago, she had paused in front of the display, admiring it quietly. She never said she wanted it, but Jean noticed anyway and joined the bidding without a second thought. The price kept climbing. She had tried to stop him. “Jean, it’s too much. I really don’t need it,” she had said. But he only smiled and told her, “If you like it, I’ll get it, no matter the cost.” A week ago, he was still doting on her. Still pretending to care. ‘How has everything flipped so fast?’ “Ms. Jourdain? Hello?” the person on the line asked again. Samira blinked, then cleared her throat. “Yes. I’m on my way.” She caught a cab and headed to the auction house. But just as she was about to step out of the car, she froze. Right in front of the doors, she saw them; Jean and Luna walking in together. They looked close. Comfortable. Like they belonged. She stared at them for a few seconds longer, her hand still on the door handle. The driver glanced at her through the rearview mirror, probably wondering what the holdup was. Snapping out of it, Samira opened the door and got out. By the time she reached the steps, they were already gone inside. The moment passed, but the ache in her chest lingered. Something inside her quietly shifted. Maybe it was hope. Or whatever was left of it. Jean was probably here to buy something for Luna. Samira didn’t want to see them, she just wanted to get the jewelry and leave. She pulled her hood up, waited a couple minutes just in case, then slipped inside. Avoiding the main showroom, she walked straight toward the reception area, hoping to get in and out without being noticed. But just as she reached the doorway, she stopped in her tracks. Jean and Luna were already there. The receptionist stood in front of them, holding the jewelry she had come to pick up. He walked over to Luna, smiling like he was presenting a crown to a queen. “So Mr. Zaccaro picked this out for you? It’s perfect on you, miss. He really knows how to choose.” Samira didn’t move. She just stood there, hands cold, heart heavy. She remembered how she missed this call in her previous life. She had been drinking that night, too caught up in heartbreak to answer her phone. She had no idea back then that this necklace, this ridiculously expensive gift, was never meant for her. She had thought Jean bought it for her. Worn it like it meant something. But now… now she knew the truth. It had always belonged to someone else. And just like that, the last two years of her life felt even more hollow. A joke. A pity prize wrapped in silver and lies. Her throat tightened. She blinked hard, trying to shake it off. She wasn’t going to humiliate herself again, not in front of them. Without stepping inside, Samira turned around, ready to leave and pretend she never saw anything. But just then, a voice called out behind her. “Samira?!” It was Luna. Of course it was. Samira froze, shoulders tensing. So much for slipping out unnoticed.

All eyes turned to Samira the moment Luna called out. She stood there awkwardly at the doorway, half her face hidden under her hood like someone who didn’t belong. And maybe she didn’t. Looking back on her twenty-two years, Samira realized most of the things that were supposed to be hers had somehow ended up in Luna’s hands. Luna came over quickly and looped her arm through Samira’s like they were long-lost best friends. “What a surprise! Are you here to shop too?” she asked cheerfully, as if this was just a casual run-in. Samira didn’t answer. Her eyes shifted to Jean, who was standing off to the side. Their gazes met briefly before he quickly looked away, his expression uneasy. Samira gave a small, tight smile and looked down. Luna caught that little moment and, never one to miss her cue, put on her soft, trembling voice. “Samira… I’m the one who asked Jean to come with me. Don’t blame him, okay? If you’re mad, be mad at me.” She even threw in a teary sniff or two, looking every bit the poor, misunderstood girl. Before Samira could say anything, Jean stepped in, like always. He pulled Luna behind him protectively, as if Samira might attack her or something. His tone was cold, guarded. “I brought Luna here. It’s not her fault.” Samira stared at him for a second. Then, very quietly, she said, “Did I say I blamed her?” Jean faltered, caught off guard. Samira let out a soft laugh and shook her head. She had died too quickly in her past life to ever make sense of things. But now, she saw it all clearly. Ever since the kidnapping, Jean had treated her like a threat. Every time she and Luna were in the same room, his guard went up. He was constantly on edge around her, ready to defend Luna, no matter what. So all this time, she had thought he loved her, he cared. She had just never put herself in direct comparison to Luna before. If she had, maybe she wouldn’t have wasted so much time convincing herself she mattered. Samira didn’t want to be part of this triangle anymore. She turned and walked out without another word, leaving whatever “love” they had behind her. Jean watched her go, his chest tightening at the sight of her walking away; quiet, small, alone. He took a few steps toward her before Luna reached out and held him back. Outside, the air felt heavier than usual. As Samira stepped off the curb, her eyes landed on a tiny kitten hiding in the grass by the steps. It was filthy, limping and clearly injured. Alone like that, it probably wouldn’t last long. She sighed and crouched down beside it, gently reaching out her hand. She couldn’t save everything, but this little life, she could try. Samira walked over quietly, crouched beside the patch of grass and stretched out a hand, leaving some distance so she wouldn’t scare the kitten off. She waited patiently, saying nothing, just letting it decide if she could be trusted. That was what Jean saw when he stepped outside. The sunlight caught Samira just right, softening her edges, like the world itself had slowed down for a second. In front of her was the tiny kitten, hesitant but curious, inching closer. Jean stood frozen, watching her, something twisting in his chest. She looked so much like the girl from all those years ago, the one who used to follow him around, laughing, fearless. Next to him, Luna glanced over and noticed the look on his face. Her lips pressed into a thin line. Right then, the kitten finally came close enough. Samira reached out gently, scooped it up and held it to her chest. She gave it a small smile, the kind you only give something helpless. She turned, ready to leave. But just as she took a step, someone yanked the kitten from her arms. Startled, she looked up and there was Luna, clutching the kitten like it was hers, eyes wide with fear. “Don’t hurt it!” Luna shouted, stumbling back a few steps like Samira had tried to attack her. Jean rushed over, totally confused. Luna was already tearing up, voice trembling. “It looks like the kitten I used to have when I was little,” she said, holding it close. “I didn’t save it back then... but I want to now.” Jean’s face shifted like something had clicked in his memory. Samira’s whole body went cold. She remembered that kitten too. Luna had drowned it in the pond. Samira had seen the whole thing, her twisted smile, the way she didn’t even flinch. Samira had jumped in after it, desperate to save it, only for Luna to run off and spin the story her way. She told the adults Samira did it. No one asked questions. No one ever did. Now, looking at Luna with that same fake-innocent look on her face, Samira felt her stomach turn. The kitten meowed again, squirming in Luna’s grip. Samira took a step forward and reached for it. “Give it back,” she said quietly. Before she could get close, Jean stepped in and shoved her hard. She hit the ground, hands scraping against the concrete. “Samira, what’s wrong with you?!” he snapped, his voice sharp, full of anger. She didn’t even look at him. Her eyes were locked on the kitten. “Give it back,” she said again, louder this time. Luna shrank away, holding the kitten tighter, like she was scared. Jean immediately pulled her into his arms like he was protecting her from something dangerous. “I’m calling security,” he muttered, already shouting for help. Samira’s cheek was pressed against the cold floor, the weight of the security guard holding her down. She didn’t fight it, she just laid there, breathing quietly, the sting in her side nothing compared to the one in her chest. Jean stood a few feet away, his voice sharp and cold. “Why are you always like this? Wasn’t one cat enough when you were a kid? Now you’re trying to hurt another?” His eyes were full of disgust. Not confusion, not disappointment, just pure judgment. Then he turned away without waiting for her to speak, slipping his arm around Luna like he was some hero protecting her from a villain. Samira didn’t look up. She stayed still, listening to their footsteps fade away. The pressure on her arm finally lifted when they were gone. But the weight in her chest stayed.

Samira didn’t get up right away. She just lay there for a moment, then let out a low laugh. It wasn’t loud or dramatic, more like the kind that slips out when you realize how foolish you’ve been. ‘Who am I kidding? I can’t even protect myself, how can I possibly protect a kitten?’ Eventually, she pushed herself off the ground and dusted off her clothes. Her movements were slow and clumsy. She didn’t look back as she walked away. Behind her, one of the security guards muttered, “She looks nice, but turns out she’s the type to abuse animals…” She had heard that before. A lot, actually, especially when she was younger. Back then, it was a label people stuck on her without thinking and it followed her around like a shadow. She was even bullied because of it. When her family confronted her about it, she hadn’t cared much what her parents thought. What mattered most was Jean. She just wanted him to believe her. But when she looked at him, back then and now, his eyes always held that same look of disgust. Cold. Judging. Like he had already made up his mind. When she got home, she went straight to the closet, pulled out a big cardboard box and started packing. All the things Jean had given her over the years; little trinkets, notes, gifts from birthdays or holidays. She had kept them all in perfect shape, even after everything. But now, she tossed them into the box one after another, like they were junk. There was more than she realized. She kept at it until noon, paused to eat something quick, then went right back to it. That was when Jean came in. He noticed the box and frowned, his gaze settling on the familiar items. “Wait… what are you throwing away? Isn’t this stuff from me?” Samira paused for a second, then shrugged and kept going. “Yeah. Just clearing things out. It’s been piling up.” Jean stepped closer, sensing something was off. Then he reached out and wrapped his arms around her from behind. She instinctively tensed. When she tried to move, he only held her tighter. “Samira,” he said softly, “you know how Luna gets. That cat really messed her up when we were kids. I just didn’t want her to fall apart again. That’s why I reacted like that. But I believe you. I really do.” She stopped moving, then slowly turned around to face him. Her eyes searched his. “You really believe I didn’t do it?” He hesitated, not long, but enough. Then he forced a smile and said, “Of course I do. You? Hurt a cat? Come on.” But the moment had already passed. She had seen it. The flicker of doubt. The same look from all those years ago. She let out a quiet laugh and looked away. Samira chuckled quietly to herself. Not because anything was funny, but because Jean was good. Too good. The way he said those sweet, reassuring words like he actually meant them? If she didn’t know better, she might’ve believed him. But she did know better. ‘So why the performance? What is the point of pretending now, when he’s already gotten what he wants?’ She gave up trying to make sense of it. Some things just weren’t worth figuring out. With a sigh, she turned back to the pile of memories and kept tossing them into the box like they were nothing. Jean, clearly thinking the storm had passed, spoke up with an easy tone. “Your mom wants us to come by for dinner tonight.” “Okay,” Samira said with a nod, not looking up. But just as they were about to head out later that evening, he paused at the door. “Hey, something came up. Can you go ahead first? I’ll meet you there.” Samira didn’t even blink. “Sure.” He kissed her cheek like everything was fine. “My wife’s always so sweet to me.” Once he was gone, she stayed frozen for a second, then calmly wiped her cheek with her sleeve. She could be sweet, she could be patient, but that didn’t mean she still cared. Dinner time rolled around and she caught a cab to her parents’ house on her own. Jean still hadn’t shown up when she arrived. Her father barely acknowledged her, just glanced over and said nothing. He had never really been warm and lately, it felt like she was just another guest to him. Her mother, though, still had a sliver of affection left. She came over with a smile and gently took Samira’s hand. “Where’s Jean? Didn’t he come with you?” “He had something to do,” Samira replied with a small smile. “He said he’d come later.” Her mother nodded and gave a polite smile back, trying to come up with something to say. The conversation felt stiff. They used to be close, really close, but after Luna returned, everything changed. The awkward silence didn’t last long. The front door opened again. Jean had arrived. And not alone. Luna walked in beside him. So that was what his “something to do” was. The moment her mother saw Luna, she let go of Samira’s hand without hesitation and stood up to greet Luna like she was the daughter she had always wanted. They chatted easily, laughed, exchanged sweet words and gentle touches. Not a trace of awkwardness between them. Samira didn’t even lift her head. She just sat there, staring at her hands. This wasn’t her home anymore. Maybe it never had been. At dinner, the seating said it all. Jean sat next to Luna, across from her parents. Samira was at the far end, no one beside her, no one across from her. Just space. Jean casually reached for food and placed it into Luna’s plate like it was second nature. No one flinched. No one said a word. And in that moment, it hit her. She wasn’t just alone. She didn’t even belong.

After dinner, the living room was filled with laughter and light conversation, but none of it reached Samira. She sat there, quiet, detached. In the past, she might’ve tried to smile along, pretend to belong. But now, she didn’t see the point. Some things just weren’t meant to be forced. While they carried on like one big happy family, Samira quietly got up and stepped outside. She didn’t say a word and unsurprisingly, no one even noticed her leave. She had only been outside for a moment, breathing in the cool air, when Luna’s voice sliced through the silence behind her. “You’re still hanging around the Jourdain Family? Still clinging to Jean? Don’t you have any shame?” In her past life, Samira had never walked out at this moment, so she had never heard Luna’s true colors like this. She didn’t turn around, didn’t say anything, just stood there, staring ahead. Luna didn’t stop. “Let me be real with you. Jean only married you to push you out of the inheritance. It wasn’t about love. He sees you as a cruel, heartless monster.” Samira stood still, her voice calm when she finally responded. “You really think no one sees through your lies? What if they find out—” “They won’t,” Luna snapped, cutting her off. “You think you can explain your way out of this? Don’t waste your time. Everyone is on my side now. You? You should just crawl back to that sad little town you came from.” Honestly, Samira didn’t disagree. This house never felt like home. She replied evenly, “Things don’t always go the way you want, Luna.” That was all it took to push Luna over the edge. With a glare full of rage, she slapped Samira across the face hard. The sound cracked in the stillness. Samira’s cheek flared with pain. She paused, took a breath. In the past, she would’ve swallowed the hurt and walked away. But not this time. This time, she hit back. The slap landed with force and Luna stumbled, stunned. Then she launched herself at Samira and the two of them went down in a flurry of fists and hair-pulling. Luna didn’t stand a chance, Samira had her pinned in seconds. The commotion drew attention. The front door burst open. Her father stormed out, followed by Jean and her mother. He took one look at them and shouted, “What are you two doing?! Get back inside! Now! Sit down and think about what you’ve done!” The butler stepped in, separating the two of them and guiding them toward the hall without saying much. Luna was quick to play the victim. Her face was pale and her eyes filled with tears as she turned to her father. “Dad, don’t be mad, please. I didn’t do anything, Samira started it!” When he didn’t react, she spun toward her mother, crying harder now. “Mom, you saw it too! I didn’t hit her first!” Her mother’s face softened immediately. She looked heartbroken, brushing Luna’s hair back like she was still a child. “Honey, you saw it too,” she said to her husband. “Samira hit her. If someone needs to be punished, let it be Samira. Luna was the one who got hurt.” Samira just stood there, quiet. Her fingers were clenched at her sides, her face still stinging. She wasn’t even surprised anymore, same story, different day. In the end, they both got dragged away. Her father wasn’t the kind to care much about fairness, he cared about appearances and control. The two of them knelt in the hall, the silence awkward and heavy. The butler stood to the side, arms crossed, like a chaperone watching over detention. Then, a few minutes later, Jean showed up. He walked in without a hint of hesitation and said, “I’m taking her.” The butler blinked. “Sir, I’m sorry, but Mr. Jourdain gave strict orders. Neither of them is allowed to leave tonight. I can’t let you take Miss Samira.” Jean’s face didn’t change. “I’m not taking Samira. I’m here for Luna. I’ve already talked to Mr. Jourdain. Luna didn’t do anything wrong. She doesn’t deserve to be punished.” The butler hesitated. “But… Miss Samira’s face was clearly slapped.” Jean didn’t miss a beat. “And Luna’s not allowed to defend herself? You want her to just stand there and take it?” That shut the butler up. Jean walked over to Samira and crouched in front of her. His voice was soft, but it didn’t feel warm. “Samira, I know things got out of hand, but this was on you. No matter what Luna said, you shouldn’t have hit her. Just stay here tonight. I’ll come back for you in the morning.” Something inside her snapped. She didn’t speak, didn’t even look at him. She just stared straight ahead like he wasn’t even there. Jean let out a frustrated sigh, muttering under his breath, “So stubborn.” Her eyelashes trembled, but she kept her head down. The ache in her chest grew heavier, sharp like ice pressing against her ribs. She should’ve expected this. Jean’s version of "trust" was just another lie she let herself believe. But she kept it all in. No matter how hurt she felt, love that had started when she was young didn’t just vanish overnight. Still, she knew, one day, it would. Beside her, Jean scooped Luna into his arms and walked away without even glancing back. “Luna, are you okay? Does it hurt? I’m sorry I got here so late…” he murmured, his voice full of concern. His words grew fainter as they disappeared down the hallway. Before long, the house was silent again. The butler stood nearby, his eyes quietly following Samira’s still figure. There was a trace of sadness in his expression. He had watched her grow up in this house. And he knew, this girl wasn’t the cold, cruel person everyone had painted her to be. She was kind. She always had been. But once the master made up his mind, there was no changing it. The butler knew that better than anyone. He let out a long breath and walked a little closer. “Miss, you don’t need to sit so straight. It hurts less if you let yourself lean a bit.” Samira didn’t move. Her posture remained rigid, back straight, chin up. Her voice came out soft but steady. “Thank you.” That was it. She wasn’t here to explain herself or beg to be seen. Tonight, she was just quietly paying back the Jourdain Family for the two decades they raised her. Nothing more.

The next morning, the butler quietly approached and said, “Miss, it’s time.” Samira had gone numb from sitting all night. It took her a few seconds to even register his words. When she finally tried to stand, her legs buckled underneath her. She would’ve hit the floor if the butler hadn’t caught her just in time. It took almost ten minutes before she could manage to stand properly, leaning against the butler for support as they made their way out. Even walking to the front door felt like a marathon. When they finally got there, the butler asked gently, “Should I have a car ready for you?” Samira didn’t hesitate. “Yes, thank you.” Then she added, almost as an afterthought, “You don’t need to call me ‘Miss’ anymore.” She didn’t plan on coming back. Not ever. The butler froze, a little caught off guard by that. Before he could say anything, a familiar voice spoke up from behind them. “No need to call a car. I’ll take her.” Jean. Samira turned, surprised to see him. She hadn’t really believed he would show. But there he was, walking up without a word and lifting her into his arms like it was the most natural thing in the world. He carried her to the car and gently settled her into the passenger seat. She didn’t speak the entire ride. Her eyes stayed fixed on the road ahead, expression calm, almost distant. But inside, her mind was busy, already thinking about what she needed to do next, what came after this chapter of her life. Jean kept glancing at her, uneasy. It wasn’t like her to be this quiet. Usually, she would have said something by now, joked, chatted, anything. But now, nothing. Just silence. He thought maybe she just needed time. But by the time they were nearly home, she still hadn’t said a word and it was starting to eat at him. Finally, he caved. “Samira… are you thirsty? There’s water in the glovebox.” She gave a soft “Mm,” but didn’t move or respond beyond that. Jean wanted to say more, but just then, they pulled up to the house. Before he could even react, Samira had already opened the door and slowly started to make her way inside, limping slightly. Jean rushed out, caught up to her and without asking, lifted her again. She didn’t fight him, just let him carry her in and lower her onto the couch. Still, she said nothing. And Jean couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted for good. Jean crouched down and gently lifted the hem of her pants. The motion tugged at the wound and Samira winced, sucking in a sharp breath. “Ah, sorry, sweetheart,” he murmured, visibly flustered. “I’ll be more careful.” As the scrape came into full view, his expression tightened. Something about seeing it; red, raw, clearly painful, hit him harder than he expected. He didn’t say anything though. Just pulled out the medicine and got to work. Samira looked down at him in silence. For a moment, her mind drifted. She remembered being little, tripping in the yard, knees all scraped up. Jean had helped her then too, crouched just like this, dabbing ointment and blowing softly to ease the sting. The sound of a ringtone pulled her out of the memory. Jean glanced at the phone, then stiffened. He gripped it like he was bracing for something. “Samira… I need to take this call, okay?” In his rush, the cotton swab pressed a little too hard. Samira gasped again, her fingers tightening around the cushion beside her. She lifted her eyes and caught a glimpse of the screen. Luna. Of course it was. She didn’t say anything. Just slowly stood up and started making her way to the stairs. Her legs felt like lead, but she didn’t want to sit around listening to him take her call. She took one careful step at a time. Halfway up, Jean passed her, completely ignoring her struggling up the stairs and disappeared into the study. A minute later, he burst back out with a small bottle in hand. Samira recognized it. A rare ointment. Powerful stuff. For a second, she thought… maybe it was for her. But then Jean brushed right past her without so much as a glance. His shoulder bumped her, hitting her already sore knee. Pain shot through her like lightning. Her leg buckled and she fell. “Ah!” She hit the ground hard, knees taking the brunt of it. Her vision went white at the edges, ears buzzing like static. For a second, she couldn’t even feel her legs. Then, through the ringing, she felt a pair of arms around her. Jean’s voice, anxious and breathless, broke through. “Samira? Are you okay? Does it hurt?” But she couldn’t answer. The pain had swallowed everything else. Jean looked flustered as he bent down to pick her up. But before he could, his phone rang again. He glanced at it and the second he answered, Luna’s voice came through, sharp and whiny. “Jean, where are you? My knees really hurt… I can’t take it anymore.” And in that moment, Samira understood. So that was who the medicine was for. Not her. He didn’t bring it for her. He never even thought to.

The moment his phone rang again, Jean froze. Then Luna’s voice came through loud and clear. “Jean, where are you? My knee’s killing me. It really hurts…” Right then, Samira understood. The ointment, the rush, the concern, it hadn’t been for her. It never was. Jean's focus snapped back to his phone and the hand supporting her was gone in an instant. “Hang in there, Luna. I’m on my way!” His footsteps echoed down the stairs, growing softer until they vanished completely. Samira stayed where she was, curled slightly on the floor, palms flat against the cold ground. Her eyes closed as she breathed through the pain. Tears slipped silently down her cheeks and for the first time, she couldn’t tell if it was her body that hurt more, or her heart. It was half an hour before she managed to push herself up again. Moving slowly, she made her way to her room. Not long after, her phone rang. “Ms. Jourdain,” a calm voice reported on the other end. “Everything is ready. The body’s prepped and all the points are set. Just waiting for your word.” She exhaled softly. “Alright. Prepare a new ID for me. I’ll make my move in three days.” Three days. That was all she needed. Then she would finally be out of here for good. The thought made her chest feel a little lighter. Jean didn’t come back during those three days. Samira didn’t ask. She already knew where he was and with whom. On the fourth day, just as she was wrapping things up, he walked in. She was in the middle of clearing out old photos, tossing them into a box, one by one. She wasn’t taking much. And she definitely wasn’t taking memories. Jean stepped in with a brightness in his eyes she hadn’t seen in a long time. He walked right up to her and gently grabbed her hand. “Samira, how’s your knee? Is it still bothering you? Let me check.” He bent down, about to lift her pant leg, but she stopped him. “It’s fine. Healed up already,” she said flatly. He didn’t push, just nodded, looking around as if searching for something. Then he asked, almost too casually, “By the way… where’s the necklace? The one my mom gave you when we got married?” Samira paused. The necklace… Miranda had given it to her personally. It was one of those symbolic pieces passed down to the Zaccaro daughters-in-law. Jean had never even mentioned it before. Not once. She studied his face for a moment but said nothing about it. “It’s in the study. Inside the safe.” “Great,” he said quickly. “Mom wants to get it cleaned. I’ll just take it over and bring it back in a couple days.” After today, Samira wouldn’t be the Zaccaro Family’s daughter-in-law anymore. The necklace didn’t belong to her now and honestly, she didn’t care enough to question Jean’s excuse. Whether it was a lie or not, she just didn’t have the energy to dig into it. Jean took the necklace and left soon after, quick, like he couldn’t wait to be gone. Later that afternoon, Miranda called. “Samira, come with me to the charity gala tonight,” she said, her voice as warm as always. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” Samira remembered that gala from her previous life, how she had said yes to Miranda’s invitation, walked into the venue… and found Jean and Luna there, together. That night had ended in flames; pain, humiliation and eventually, death. But tonight, she was going again. Not because she hadn’t learned her lesson, but because she had. This night was a piece of the puzzle she couldn’t skip. In the evening, Miranda sent a car. For all her faults, Miranda had always treated Samira with kindness. Even after everything that happened when she was a child, Miranda never backed away from her. An hour later, the car pulled up in front of the venue. Samira stepped out and immediately spotted Miranda waiting by the entrance. She walked over and Miranda pulled her into a gentle hug. But when she leaned back, her eyes dropped to Samira’s bare collarbone. “Why aren’t you wearing the necklace I gave you?” she asked, puzzled. Samira’s heart skipped just for a beat, just long enough to know Jean had lied. But again… she wasn’t surprised. “I forgot,” she said casually, as if it didn’t matter. Because it didn’t. Miranda let it go and led her inside, introducing her with a proud smile to everyone they passed. “This is my daughter-in-law,” she said over and over. Samira noticed the awkward looks. The polite smiles. The not-so-subtle glances. Everyone here knew Jean had come with someone else. She was still the wife, sure, but in name only. She lowered her gaze and let a faint, sarcastic smile touch her lips. A few minutes later, Miranda excused herself to speak with the event organizer and told Samira to look around. As she walked through the glittering hall, it felt like déjà vu. Same place. Same faces. Same script. Only this time, she wasn’t the naive woman from before.

Samira stood by herself at the table, quietly minding her own business, when Luna showed up—hooked onto Jean’s arm like some prize she had just won. It didn’t take long for Samira to notice the necklace hanging around Luna’s neck. Her necklace. The one Jean had taken from her just that morning. It was impossible to miss. That piece wasn’t just jewelry, it meant something. It had always symbolized the status of the Zaccaro Family’s daughter-in-law. And now Jean had handed it over to Luna himself, like he was making some sort of official announcement. Samira didn’t react. She didn’t cause a scene or go stomping over to demand answers. Not this time. She had done that once before and became the joke of the evening. She had learned. Instead, she just stood there, quiet, detached. Watching them like someone flipping through a memory they didn’t care to revisit. Even though she hadn’t gone near them, she still stood out. And Jean noticed. His gaze caught hers from across the room and something in his chest twisted. Her expression didn’t hold anger. No heartbreak. Just... distance. Like she wasn’t even part of this mess anymore. Just an outsider, watching it unfold. Before he knew it, he had walked up to her. Samira didn’t move. She didn’t ask him why he came over. She didn’t even look surprised. Her eyes met his with a calm indifference. But then Luna stepped in, her voice shaking. “Samira… I didn’t mean to upset you. Please don’t hurt me…” Samira blinked, confused. ‘What is she talking about?’ Jean’s jaw tightened immediately. He turned to Luna, already scowling. “Did she do something to you again?” Again. That word hit like ice in her chest. Of course. Of course that was what he would think. Before Samira could say a word, Luna pulled out her phone and showed Jean a string of messages. Her name was at the top of the chat. The messages were ugly. Threats. Promises that if Luna didn’t leave Jean alone, she’d disappear for good. But Samira had never sent them. Still… she had seen this move before. Luna had pulled this same stunt when they were kids. It worked back then too. Jean stared at the screen, his hands shaking slightly as he gripped the phone. When he finally looked up at Samira, his face was full of fury. “You’re unbelievable,” he hissed. “You’d go this far? You really want to kill someone over love?” Samira didn’t even flinch. She just stared back at him, tired. Like she couldn’t believe he still didn’t get it. Samira stood there, silent, as the sting on her cheek burned hotter than the wine in her glass. Jean had slapped her. In public. No hesitation, no questions asked, just rage. Because Luna gasped and pulled at her own dress like she was in danger. She hadn’t even touched her. Samira didn’t know what shocked her more, Luna’s theatrics or Jean falling for it instantly. Again. She tasted blood in her mouth, but maybe it was just the bitterness welling up from somewhere deeper. Jean glared at her like she was something rotten he couldn’t wait to throw away. “You’ve gone too far, Samira. I’m done making excuses for you. Go back to your family’s house. I’ll come pick you up in two days. Think long and hard before then.” He didn’t even wait for her response. Instead, he pulled off his suit jacket, wrapped it gently around Luna’s shoulders and led her away like a hero protecting the damsel. Samira just stood there, feeling like the ground beneath her had cracked wide open. It was humiliating. She had done nothing, not this time. And yet, here she was, once again cast as the villain in a play she hadn’t auditioned for. So this was what it came to. He didn’t see her. Not who she really was. Not who she had ever been. Just Luna’s sister. A threat. A nuisance. She could’ve yelled. She could’ve screamed that it was all fake, that Luna had set her up just like she used to when they were kids. That this was history repeating itself. But there was no point. Jean never believed her back then. And clearly, he didn’t now. So instead, she quietly reached for a fresh glass of wine, ignoring the stares, the whispers, the burn on her cheek. She raised it lazily in the air, as if toasting something only she could see. Her voice was quiet, barely louder than a whisper. “I hope you’re happy, Jean. And I hope I can finally start living… really living, without you.” She took one last sip from her glass, then set it down gently on the table. No drama. No second glance. Just like that, Samira turned around and walked away, calm, composed, done. She didn’t rush. She didn’t look back. Whatever they’d had… it was over long before this moment. Tomorrow, the news of her “death” would explode online. People would talk. There would be shock, whispers, a hundred theories. But none of it would matter. Because Jean was no longer part of her story.

Miranda stepped out of the organizer’s office and glanced around the hall, but there was no sign of Samira. Frowning, she stopped a passing guest to ask if they had seen her. What she heard made her face tighten. Without a word, she turned and headed straight for the lounge. As soon as she pushed open the door, she found Jean sitting on the couch, arms around Luna, gently comforting her like it was some tragic scene out of a drama. Miranda barely gave Luna a glance. She cut straight to the point. “Where’s Samira?” Jean, clearly still ticked off, waved her off. “How would I know?” Miranda was about to respond when something caught her eye. Her gaze landed on the necklace around Luna’s neck and her face hardened. She stepped forward quickly and pointed. “Why the hell is that on her?” Luna flinched, her expression panicked. Jean moved in front of her protectively. “She liked it, so I gave it to her. What’s the big deal?” Miranda didn’t even blink. She reached out and yanked the necklace off Luna’s neck with a scowl. “This necklace is for the Zaccaro Family’s daughter-in-law. My daughter-in-law. And that’s Samira. Not some girl who’s been dragging your name through the mud.” Luna gasped and covered her neck, already in tears. Jean looked stunned for a second, then got defensive fast. “Mom, seriously? Are you letting Samira get in your head too? She’s been awful to Luna from the start!” He didn’t wait for an answer. He helped Luna to her feet and stormed out of the lounge, fuming. Even in the car, his hands gripped the wheel too tight, his chest rising and falling with frustration. ‘Yeah, Samira used to be sweet when she was younger, but things changed. She changed. Didn’t she?’ Still… the look on his mother’s face. The conviction in her voice. A tiny part of him started to doubt. ‘What if... Samira wasn’t the one lying?’ Before he could follow the thought, Luna sniffled beside him. “Jean… does your mom hate me? My neck really hurts.” That snapped his focus back. He reached out and stroked her hair gently. “Don’t worry about her,” he said softly. “I’ve got you. No one’s going to hurt you.” After calming Luna down, Jean sat in silence for a moment, trying to recall what had been bothering him earlier. But whatever it was, it slipped away. He started the car and took her home. Once inside, he was about to leave when Luna reached out and gently held his hand. “Jean… how much longer are you going to wait to file for the divorce?” Her voice was soft and vulnerable, the kind that made people instinctively want to protect her. But instead of sympathy, Jean felt an odd wave of discomfort. His brows drew together and he didn’t even realize it. Luna noticed the subtle shift immediately. Her heart skipped. She forced her eyes to fill with tears and her bottom lip to tremble. “Jean… you did sign the agreement, didn’t you? Are you… are you hesitating now?” As expected, her wounded expression hit its mark. Jean's heart tightened and he quickly tried to reassure her, brushing off her fears with a gentle voice, but still, he didn’t mention anything about divorce. That made Luna uneasy. She had worked so hard to get back everything that once belonged to her. She had the title, the spotlight, even the Zaccaro necklace. All that was left was Jean. She couldn’t afford for this to fall apart. “She’s always hated me,” Luna whispered tearfully. “Even when we were kids. She killed my kitten, Jean. You know that, right? You believe me, don’t you?” Her tears fell harder now. Jean let out a long breath. He was getting tired of this, but he kept his voice steady. “Luna, I believe you. Okay? I know Samira isn’t easy to deal with… but she’s not the same as before. She’s been through enough.” He looked away for a moment, then added quietly, “You already have everything you wanted. And Samira… she’s got no one now. I can’t just abandon her like she’s nothing. You understand, don’t you?” Luna said nothing. Her fists clenched beneath the covers. Before she could argue again, Jean gently laid her down, pulled the quilt up over her and turned toward the door. As she watched him walk away, something in her cracked. She slammed her fists against the bed, teeth clenched in frustration. Jean had no clue what was going on. He walked out, his steps quick and stiff, got in the car and suddenly, Samira flashed through his mind. Without thinking, he grabbed his phone and called the Jourdain Family. Earlier, back at the lounge, he had told them to send Samira home. But now, something in his chest tightened. He needed to see her. The call connected. “Has Samira come back yet?” he asked. The answer came back calm and polite—but it made his stomach drop. “No, sir. She hasn't returned.” Jean hung up without saying much more and slammed his foot on the gas. He drove straight home. The second he stepped through the door, something felt wrong. The house was quiet. Dark. Still. “Samira?” he called, walking deeper inside. “Samira? Are you here?” No answer. He checked the bedroom. Nothing. Tried calling her again. Busy. Again. And again. The constant beeping made his head spin. His breathing grew shallow and he clutched his chest, trying to calm down. “She’s just upset,” he mumbled, sitting on the floor, one hand gripping the edge of the couch for balance. “She’ll come back. She always does…” He tried to believe that. The next morning, he got up, made some coffee and sat down for breakfast. Half-distracted, he scrolled through the news on his phone, until one headline stopped him cold. Dismembered body found near central alley. Victim’s identity pending. The location hit him first, it was right near last night’s venue. Then came the jolt in his chest. He rubbed at the ache, assuming it was stress. Maybe he should see a doctor. He pushed the thought aside and kept waiting. But by afternoon, she still hadn’t come home. She hadn’t gone back to the Jourdain house either. That was when his phone rang. His heart jumped. He grabbed it, only to see Mom on the screen. Disappointed, he still answered. “Jean,” she said, her voice cracking, “Samira... she’s gone.” He froze. His fingers tightened around the phone. His mind went blank. Somehow, he got in the car and drove to the police station. But he didn’t remember the drive. Everything felt slow and far away, like he was underwater. Inside, the first thing he heard was crying, his mother’s voice, but he couldn’t bring himself to respond. He didn’t even turn his head. An officer approached quietly. “Mr. Zaccaro? This way, please.” They led him down a hallway to the morgue. “We haven’t found her head yet,” the officer said carefully, “or parts of her body. But we’ve identified her based on what we recovered.” Jean stood there, staring at the door, his body heavy, his ears ringing.