Reborn to Avenge Husband

On New Year's Eve, my husband and I went out for fondue, but the server accidentally tipped the scalding pot all over me. Being eight months pregnant, I suffered severe burns; my water broke on the spot, and I collapsed, unable to move. I struggled to call for help, but my husband was only focused on demanding compensation:

"Pain is good," he said. "The more you hurt, the more money we'll get. It'll ensure we have enough for the baby's formula."

I fainted from the agony, missing the critical window for rescue, leading to a tragic loss for both me and my unborn child. My husband inherited all my assets, abandoned any pursuit of justice, and married the waitress with whom he'd conspired: "This plan is flawless—not only did it get rid of her, but it also secured her estate legally!"

When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back on that New Year's Eve when the fondue was spilled.

"Don't worry, darling. It must be busy tonight because of New Year's Eve. Just wait a little longer, and your favorite spicy fondue will be here," Kasen Duncan's familiar voice sounded before I even opened my eyes. His hand rested on my baby bump, soothing me with gentle strokes, and he thoughtfully poured me a cup of steaming coffee.

Before, I would have been moved to tears by my seemingly caring husband. But now, I felt an icy chill throughout my body. The next moment, I looked up sharply, taking in the people around us enjoying their family meals, and the calendar hanging on the restaurant wall. This wasn't a dream. I had come back to life on New Year's Eve.

In my previous life, it was the same. Eight months pregnant, right at the start of the year, my husband suggested we celebrate with fondue. When the new server mishandled things, and our fondue didn't arrive, the horror unfolded. No one expected she would spill the entire pot of boiling fondue over me!

I was left red and swollen, a layer of skin peeling off, and I screamed in agony. The other customers fled in fright, but my husband didn't call 911. He let me writhe in pain on the floor. When someone tried to call the police, Kasen accused them of destroying evidence, claiming they were colluding with the restaurant, and stopped anyone from helping me.

He didn't go after the real culprit. Instead, he haggled with the restaurant owner, Waverly Willis, demanding an eye-watering $80,000 in compensation. As the pain became unbearable and the blood flowed freely, I begged him to save me.

But Kasen only became more excited. "Hold on a little longer, darling. The more it hurts, the more compensation we can get. We’ll have plenty for the baby's formula!"

I couldn't believe this was the man I shared my life with. I struggled to reach for my phone to call the police, but the waitress who'd spilled the fondue stomped on my left hand!

The searing pain mixed with the agony of labor, and I finally couldn't take it anymore—I passed out. Seeing me faint, Kasen seemed to find more leverage for negotiation, stubbornly refusing to let anyone call for help. Finally, the restaurant owner, fearing for my life, agreed to pay the compensation and rushed me to the hospital.

But Kasen insisted on driving himself, taking a route that should have taken ten minutes, dragging it into thirty, and even leisurely stopping to fill the gas tank.

By the time we reached the hospital, both my baby and I had lost our lives. Yet even after death, my consciousness lingered. I watched as Kasen not only abandoned any pursuit against the waitress but also tenaciously held the restaurant owner accountable, extorting both. He even caused a ruckus at the hospital, ultimately pocketing a total of $110,000.

My ashes were placed in the cheapest, most basic urn. Kasen inherited all my belongings and married that waitress. On their wedding night, they raised their glasses in celebration:

"This plan is perfect. It not only got rid of the annoying woman but also made us a good amount of money. She just had bad luck!"

Only then did I realize Kasen had been in league with the waitress all along. It was all a setup. Even my only living family, Grandma Theodora, was taken from the nursing home and deprived of food and drink until she was cruelly starved to death.

Being scalded by the boiling pot hurt terribly. I hated that the child inside me never saw the light of day, I hated that I trusted the wrong person, and I hated that my life was plotted against by those heartless people!

Opening my eyes again, I found myself back on that fateful New Year's Eve. This time, I looked at Kasen, who was feigning affection beside me, and my nails dug fiercely into my palm.

Sure enough, the mistress, Mylah King, was heading toward our table with a pot of boiling fondue. She wobbled as if she'd tripped, letting out a fake "ah!" The next second, just like in my previous life, the scalding pot was headed for me.

Only this time, I grabbed Kasen, who was about to dodge, pulling him into the path of the molten liquid. He never saw it coming, and his face went slack with shock as the boiling fondue splashed over him, eliciting a piercing scream.

Mylah was dumbfounded. But I knew this was just the beginning.