Chapter 1

I’m the heroine of a dark, twisted romance.

In the dim light of a narrow alleyway, a group of homeless men fastened their belts and walked away, satisfied.

I lay there, like a discarded, soulless doll, the scene making it painfully clear what had just happened.

Next, according to the script, the male lead should appear and take me away.

I was supposed to be ashamed, weak, and view him as my saviour.

He said we were brought together by those homeless men, that they’d been instrumental in our "fate." He even rewarded them, giving them jobs that made them rich.

But after I was reborn, I stared at those repulsive faces and pulled a leather belt from my pocket.

The belt wasn’t just thick layers of leather—it had a steel plate hidden inside, making it brutally powerful.

How could these animals deserve a happy life?

The air was thick and sticky with dampness.

It was one in the morning—no one would walk through this dark, unlit alleyway.

I lay on the ground, my clothes in tatters, and I could still hear the men’s angry shouts fading away.

Tears of despair slipped down my cheeks.

I’d been too late.

Just a little more, and I might have escaped all of this.

It wasn’t until the moment of my death in my past life that I truly woke up.

I was the heroine of a twisted, dark romance.

When I was 18, walking home from school, I was assaulted by a group of homeless men. I felt humiliated, furious, but the sounds coming from my mouth were disgusting—like I wasn’t even resisting.

Later, a man appeared at the mouth of the alley.

He draped a coat over me, covering my shame. His name was Gareth Thompson, and he became my husband.

He didn’t care about my “broken” body. In fact, he was obsessed with it.

I was insecure and weak. Over time, I found myself in the beds of many other men, though I didn’t understand why.

I felt guilty. I worshipped Gareth, agreeing to everything he said—even when he gave the men who had attacked me great jobs, helping them get rich.

He told me if it weren’t for those men, we wouldn’t have been brought together.

But just before I died, I finally understood the truth.

Gareth had been watching me from the start. Those men were his doing. He had arranged the attack so he could rescue me, pull me from hell, and make me worship him.

That way, I’d be completely devoted to him.

As for why I ended up in the beds of strangers? Gareth had arranged that, too. He gave me away to his business partners and rivals in exchange for deals.

He didn’t care about my affairs with other men. In fact, he enjoyed it. Watching me with them made him feel... excited.

I’d been deceived my entire life, unable to muster even a shred of will for myself.

I was nothing more than an object, a toy, a pet, something to be used, but never a person. I was just a tool for men to take out their lust on.

And my death? It came from a heart attack, induced by an overdose of drugs. I didn’t live to see thirty.

By the time I died, I was skin and bones, unrecognizable.

This wasn’t just a twisted romance—it was pure cruelty.

Thank God I got another chance at life.

But I was still too late.