Chapter 2

The agonizing memories of that past life were unbearable. So when Rachel tried to guilt-trip me in the name of our "friendship" once again, I struck back without missing a beat:

"Oh, wow, that expensive? Then I definitely shouldn't touch it. How could someone like me possibly be trusted with a ring worth tens of thousands? A luxury item like this belongs in the hands of someone as sophisticated as you, Mrs. Miller."

Without giving them room to argue, I shoved the box directly into Rachel’s mother's hands. Ignoring their souring expressions, I spun around and walked away.

Behind me, Mrs. Miller hissed a venomous curse, and Rachel meekly chimed in.

"Look at the maid of honor you picked! Useless. Cut ties with her the second the reception is over. Keep your own damn ring; don't give it to me."

"Okay, Mom, please don't be mad. I'll listen to you."

I slipped out of my bridesmaid gown, slipped into an empty back lounge, locked the door, and took deep breaths to map out my next move.

In this life, I would never let that nightmare touch me again.

Then, from the adjoining lounge, voices floated through the vent—voices I could never forget if I lived a thousand lifetimes.

"Damn, that maid of honor is smoking hot. Great curves, gorgeous face. Total package."

"Heard she's working on a master’s degree too. Got that classy vibe."

"Tyler, you lucky bastard. They say the bride's best friend is always the real prize. You hit the jackpot."

The sickening memories rushed back. Hearing their predatory, satisfied chuckles made my muscles stiffen, my nails biting into my palms until they bled.

The foul implications in their words made my stomach churn.

"Well, if you guys like her that much, go take her for a spin," Tyler Brooks’s careless voice drawled. He paused, then added with a smirk, "A perk like that? Go ahead and get a taste."

"Wait, what? Tyler, are you serious?"

"Bro, you are the realest friend ever!"

"Even if you're down, Rachel's never gonna let that slide, right? Rachel?"

Rachel? She was in the room?

Right in front of her face, these pigs were treating her husband and her best friend like cheap bargaining chips, and she didn't say a damn word?

Even knowing she valued utility over loyalty, my blood ran totally cold.

As I held my breath, waiting for her to lash out, Rachel's voice drifted over—hesitant, timid, and utterly submissive.

"I... I always listen to Tyler."

Instantly, the room erupted into raucous, repulsive laughter.

"Rachel is a keeper! Why don't you do us a solid, Rachel? Tell her to go wait in Room 602 in the back. Don't worry, we're just gonna have a little... 'heart-to-heart' with her."

The raw lust dripping from their tones wasn't even disguised.

My whole body shook. My chest tightened until I couldn't breathe.

How I wished Rachel had retained a shred of human decency and snapped back: Don't test me.

Or at least: Chloe is my sister. Back the hell off.

None of that happened. Just endless, suffocating silence.

A moment later, she murmured, "Okay."

My heart froze into solid ice.

The trauma that destroyed my previous life was never an accident. It was a cold-blooded sacrifice orchestrated by my so-called best friend. She preyed on my gentle nature, feeding me to wolves just to please her husband and his sleazy circle.

What a pathetic joke of a friendship!

And what a fool I was in my past life to spare a single thought for her!

Any thought of quietly dodging the trap and slipping away dissolved. A wild, searing fury erupted in my chest.

I was going to make them pay.

Why should loyalty be trampled while selfishness gets rewarded?

Why does family pride matter more than a daughter’s soul?

Why must the victim suffer a lifetime of whispers and shame, while the perpetrators walk away clean just because they're men?

Why did I have to bleed out on the asphalt while the monsters who pushed me there lived in luxury?

Why?! I refuse to accept it!

I want blood for blood!

Forcing my trembling muscles steady, I walked down the hall to the designated suite.

Calmly and swiftly, I swapped the brass door numbers between Room 602 and Room 608.

Sure enough, Rachel came scurrying up, feeding me the exact same line from my past life, asking me to grab something from Room 602. I nodded with complete docility.

Then, flashing her that familiar conspiratorial grin I used to wear when playing wingwoman for her in college, I whispered:

"Tyler said he has a surprise for you in Room 608. Don't keep him waiting, girl."

Watching Rachel blush and hurry down the corridor, a chilling smile curled on my lips.

When the disaster you casually wished upon someone else lands squarely on your own head, Rachel... let’s see if you stay so quietly obedient.