Her Smile, My Burning Hell

The new penthouse apartment, meant to be a monument to our future, felt like a tomb.

In my hand, a medical report confirmed my fiancée Chloe' s secret lover, Liam O' Connell, was dying from a highly contagious, deadly illness.

A brutal memory tore through me: In my last life, my fury over this same betrayal led to Liam's accidental death. Chloe, consumed by grief, retaliated by orchestrating a fiery car crash that killed my parents and me.

I still smelled the gasoline, heard my mother' s screams, watched her smiling face as we burned.

How could this be happening again? I was back, at the very same moment, holding the very same report.

This time, I wouldn't scream. I wouldn't rage. I would simply shred the proof and let nature take its course. Justice would be cold, patient, and meticulously planned.

My phone rang. It was Chloe, her voice sharp and demanding about a declined credit card. Then, she uttered a chilling phrase: "Is this about Liam? Are you really going to be this pathetic? I thought we were past you trying to use his health to ruin my life."

My blood ran cold. She knew. She remembered. She was reborn too.

This wasn't just a breakup. This was war, and she had just made the first move.