Chapter 4

Rachel didn't dare glare at the men who actually touched her. Instead, she stared at me with murderous venom, as if I were the one who stripped her and dragged hands over her skin.

Cowards always punch down.

"What are you even saying, Rachel?" I countered, my voice laced with hurt and confusion. "Your husband literally told me to send you to that room. How on earth is this my fault?"

I turned my eyes directly onto Tyler.

"Tyler, you ran into me right outside the restroom and explicitly told me to tell Rachel to go to that room, didn't you?"

I put heavy emphasis on the word restroom, and Tyler’s face instantly drained of color.

Because right before that, he had been in that very restroom, hooking up with his ex-girlfriend.

In my past life, I discovered his little affair, but wanting Rachel to be happy, I kept my mouth shut.

In this life, it was a weapon.

I wanted to see whether this "loving husband" she worshiped would fight for his ruined bride, or scramble to cover up his own filthy tracks.

I was eager to find out.

The crowd's eyes shifted from me to Tyler. Beads of sweat broke out across his forehead.

After a suffocating silence, under Rachel's desperate, pleading gaze, Tyler finally let out a shaky breath.

"Yeah... I told Chloe to send Rachel there."

He hung his head, putting on a show of remorse. "I... I just wanted to surprise her with a gift. It's all my fault."

What a noble man. With one sentence, he washed his hands clean and framed everything as a tragic romantic misunderstanding.

Rachel’s face fell, the hope shattering in her eyes. She buried her face in her hands, weeping, while the smile she lost bloomed across mine.

I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing out loud.

Look at them: one willing to sacrifice her best friend to appease predators, the other willing to let his wife be assaulted just to protect his own skin.

A match made in hell.

"Rachel, look, I'll make them apologize to you," Tyler coaxed softly. "I'll make sure they compensate you. Can we please just let this go?"

At that cue, the four groomsmen put on awkward, greasy smiles, chiming in loudly:

"Yeah, Rachel, we were just messing around! Don't take it so seriously."

"It was just a wedding prank, bro. Women are always making mountains out of molehills."

"A joke?! What part of this is a joke?!" The word broke whatever sanity Rachel had left. She lunged forward like a rabid animal, clawing at their faces. "Tearing off my clothes is a joke?! Touching me and kissing me is a joke?! That's sexual assault! You're a bunch of rapists!"

"I'm going to sue you! I'm calling the police!"

Hearing that they had kissed and touched her, Tyler’s expression flashed with visible disgust. He pulled his hands away from her, merely shouting empty words to calm her down.

Complete chaos erupted.

What a glorious civil war.

By the fourth time Rachel’s nails drew bloody gouges across a groomsman's cheek, Tyler tackled her by the waist and roared:

"Enough! I'll transfer the deed to that downtown commercial property into your name! Stop making a damn scene! Haven't we lost enough face?!"

Rachel froze. The words commercial property cut through her hysterics like a tranquilizer.

Tyler stroked her hair, his voice dripping with honeyed poison and hidden revulsion. "Just be a good girl and stop screaming. I'll buy you whatever you want. Be good, okay?"

A heavy silence pressed down on the room, shifting all the burden onto Rachel.

After what felt like an eternity, she whispered, "Okay. Whatever you say, Tyler."

She folded.

For a commercial storefront, and to secure her spot as a wealthy socialite, she traded her dignity without a second thought.

Utterly disappointing.

In my past life, I was strangled by family ties, betrayed by friendship, and murdered by love.

After my death, my relatives breathed a sigh of relief that the scandal was buried; my friend quietly gloated that her wedding was saved; my lover moved on to a life of luxury.

Only I remained—branded as damaged goods, slandered even in my grave.

Why?

Why did their greed, their outdated morals, and their selfish desires have to be paid for with my innocent life?

Why do the kind get framed while the monsters walk free?

I refuse to let it go.

Now that the curtain is up on their pathetic little play, how could I ever let it end so quickly?

I won't allow it.

I want blood.

"Which one of you is Rachel Miller? We received a 911 call reporting an ongoing sexual assault. Step aside, please."

The stern voice of the police officers cut through the room like a bomb, setting the crowd of onlookers ablaze with excitement.

Tyler snapped, glaring at Rachel. "You crazy bitch! I told you I was giving you the storefront! You still called the cops?!"

"No, no! Tyler, it wasn't me! I swear I didn't call!"

"Get out of my sight. The wedding is off."

"No, Tyler, please!"

"I called," I stepped forward, my voice calm, my eyes radiating freezing mockery.

"Rachel, you're my best friend. How could I just stand by and watch you be abused? Don't worry. The police will make sure justice is served."

Watching Rachel's face turn the color of ash and Tyler trembling in absolute rage, a slow, genuine smile spread across my face.

The justice I was denied in my last life... I'm gifting it all to you, my dearest friend.