Chapter 1

The poor girl I spent a million dollars sponsoring turned out to be a master manipulator.

She chased after my son while sleeping with my husband.

When I was on my deathbed in the ICU, desperately waiting for money to save my life, she took all our assets and went on a world tour with my husband.

She even had the gall to mock me:

“Mrs. Lewis, didn’t you always tell me to pursue my dreams and be brave in love? My dream was to inherit your money, sleep with your man, and take over your life.”

In the end, I died full of hatred, powerless to fight back.

But when I opened my eyes again, I had been reborn—back to the day she first stepped into my house.

“Hello, Mrs. Lewis. Thank you for taking me in.”

Standing at the door with her oversized bags, Wendy smiled shyly. She looked so timid, glancing nervously around my house as if overwhelmed by her new surroundings.

In my previous life, I thought her reaction was because she felt uneasy about entering an unfamiliar environment.

Now I knew better. She wasn’t nervous—she was coveting my wealth.

Wendy was an orphan, her parents having died when she was still a child. She had grown up in the remote mountains, barely surviving on scraps. The story of her eating a single piece of stale bread over three days had made national headlines.

I felt sorry for her back then. Her tragic situation moved me so much that I decided to sponsor her escape from poverty.

For 15 years, from grade school to college, I spent over a million dollars on her education and living expenses.

But Wendy was nothing more than an ungrateful snake—a manipulative, scheming woman.

She started by pursuing my son, Ryan, relentlessly.

When Ryan had finally had enough and confessed to me that Wendy had been harassing him at school, I thought I’d finally see her true colors.

But Wendy, ever the actress, immediately burst into tears, her voice trembling as she pleaded:

“That’s not true, Mrs. Lewis… I only treated Ryan kindly because I’m so grateful to your family.”

“I don’t have any friends at school, and Ryan feels like family to me. I envy my classmates because they have loving parents and siblings… but I’m always alone.”

Her tearful confession left Ryan speechless. In the end, he apologized to her.

Even my husband, who was never particularly kind, comforted her gently:

“Who said you’re alone? Aren’t we your family too?”

Wendy looked up at him with watery eyes, whispering:

“Thank you… Mr. Lewis.”

Her tears made her seem pitiful. Yet when she smiled, she looked so pure and resilient, like someone who had endured great hardships but remained innocent.

It was the kind of act that made people instinctively want to protect her.

That one word, “Mr. Lewis,” was spoken so sweetly and softly—it was enough to make anyone’s heart melt.

Even then, I felt something was off about her.

But Wendy was too clever. She turned to me, her expression full of sincerity, as she said:

“And Mrs. Lewis, I promise I won’t disappoint you. I’ll work hard to repay your kindness.”

Her acting was flawless. Her eyes sparkled with such genuine gratitude that I dismissed the unease in my heart.

I continued to help her, supporting her all the way through college.

But as soon as she graduated, she seduced my husband.

I caught them in my bedroom—her clothes a mess, her body covered in the marks he’d left behind.

When I confronted her, shaking with rage, she smirked and replied:

“What’s the rush, Mrs. Lewis?”

“It’s not my fault you’re getting old. Mr. Lewis just prefers someone younger.”

“I’m just… repaying your kindness.”

As she spoke, she deliberately adjusted her clothes to reveal more of the evidence, as if she was proud of her conquest.

And my husband? He had the audacity to shield her behind him, saying:

“Rebecca, don’t blame Wendy. This is all my fault. I was the one who insisted on being with her.”

Years of overwork had taken a toll on my health. My heart was already weak, and this betrayal pushed me over the edge. I collapsed, clutching my chest as pain ripped through me.

While I lay dying in the ICU, Wendy used my money to fund a luxurious trip around the world with my husband.

In the end, I died alone, consumed by anger and despair.

Before I passed, Wendy finally came to see me. Smiling triumphantly, she said:

“Mrs. Lewis, didn’t you always encourage me to chase my dreams?”

“Well, my dream was to inherit your money, sleep with your husband, and live your life.”

Her shamelessness was so astonishing that it left me speechless, even in my final moments.

As my consciousness faded, I made one last desperate wish: if I could have another chance, I would never let them get away with this!

The next moment, I opened my eyes—

And found myself back on the day Wendy first arrived at my house.

The day I had let the wolf into my home.