His Unwanted Wife's Redemption

The poison tasted like bitter almonds and the bitter truth of thirty years.

I was Ash Vanderbilt, heir to a fortune, and I lay dying.

My husband, Ethan Miller, stood over me, a mask of indifference I'd known for three decades.

Thirty years shackled to a man I' d loved with fierce passion, then forced into a marriage he never wanted.

Our life together was a wasteland of resentment, his heart always belonging to Brittany Larson.

Now, he was finally free.

With my last ounce of strength, I lunged, plunging a letter opener into his chest.

His gasp was raw, his eyes wide, not with anger, but profound, heartbreaking sorrow.

"Ash, no," he choked out, pressing a vial to my lips. "It wasn't me. I was trying to help you. Antidote… someone else…"

He slumped beside me, the vial rolling away, his last words echoing as the world went dark.

Misunderstanding. A monstrous, colossal misunderstanding.

I had just killed the man who had been trying to save me all along.

Then, I awoke with a gasp, the scent of salt air filling my lungs.

My head throbbed, and the sunlight streamed through the familiar Hamptons beach house window.

It was the morning after I had cornered Ethan, leveraging every Vanderbilt debt, forcing him to propose.

Thirty years before I died.

Rebirth. It was real. I was back.

The crushing weight of that final, horrifying revelation pressed down on me.

This time, I would break the cycle of misery.

I would free him from a marriage he never wanted.

And this time, I would choose myself.