Chapter 1

My husband was driving to pick up his mother to bring her to the city when the accident happened.

To protect him, I lost my legs and could never have children again.

Instead of gratitude, they grew disgusted with me and had me committed to a mental institution.

I wasted away and eventually died.

But when I opened my eyes again, I was back on the morning of the accident.

This time, I was not getting into that car.

“Hurry up, stop dragging your feet! Mum’s waiting for us!”

My husband’s face was full of impatience, and I felt a little dazed.

I still had my legs. This wasn’t the cold hospital bed of a mental ward. The spring breeze felt warm on my cheeks.

It dawned on me—I had been given another chance. I was alive again.

I looked down at the bags I was holding and then at my husband, James, smoking in the driver’s seat of his black Ford Focus.

I realized this was the morning he was supposed to pick up his mother, Margaret Scott, to move into the city with us. The morning the crash would happen.

I placed the gift boxes in the boot of the car. Soon enough, they’d be smashed to bits along with the car.

I slowly walked over to the passenger window.

“I’m not going. I don’t feel well.”

James frowned. “What’s this now? Another one of your moods? Get in the car, stop being difficult!”

I stood there, expressionless, staring at him.

“What’s the big deal if you don’t go? It’s not like I care. Mum’s the one always talking about you, thinking of you.”

A wave of disgust washed over me. I knew she only wanted me around to wait on her and her precious son.

When I didn’t respond, James slammed the window shut, leaving me in a cloud of exhaust fumes.

I turned and headed back upstairs. Inside, I found the pink teddy bear tin. Sure enough, the bankbook was still there.

£16,000, untouched. £8,000 was my wedding savings, and the rest was our joint fund.

In the last life, after the crash, James claimed the money had been lost in bad stock investments. He said there was nothing left to pay for my recovery and refused further treatment.

He brought me home, neglected me, and let me waste away in bed.

But now I knew the truth. He had hidden the money. How cruel.

This time, I wouldn’t let them walk all over me.

I took the bankbook, went to a few nearby banks, and withdrew all the money.

Then I went straight to the jewellers opposite the bank and bought a 200g gold bar and two 100g gold bracelets.

I remembered that in six months, gold prices would skyrocket to an all-time high.

By then, I would be rotting away in a mental institution, catching bits of news from the radio.

As I left the jewellers, my phone rang—a number I didn’t recognise.

“Hello, who’s speaking?”

“Hello, is this Catherine Thompson? This is Officer Weston from the Sheffield traffic unit. Your husband, James Scott, has been involved in a car accident. He’s unconscious. Are you his next of kin?”

“He’s my husband! Is he alright? What happened?” I asked, forcing my voice to sound panicked.

“He’s been taken by ambulance to St George’s Hospital. We’ve towed the vehicle to clear the road.”

After hanging up, I dropped the fake concern from my face, holding back the excitement bubbling inside me. Just as I expected.

When I arrived at the hospital and stood outside the emergency room, I overheard the doctors.

“Has anyone reached the next of kin yet? James Scott’s family?”

I rushed forward and shouted, “I’m here! I’m his wife!”