The Betrayed Bride's Ultimate Retribution

In my last life, my stepsister and my husband murdered me. They stole my position, my children, and my future, leaving me with nothing but a cold, lonely death.

My sister, Belen, was consumed by a cancerous jealousy over my status and my healthy heirs. My husband, Dedric, a man I once loved, saw our children as nothing more than political pawns to secure his own power.

Their shared ambition led them to conspire against me, and in the end, they took my life. I died betrayed and alone, a pawn in their twisted game, never understanding how they could be so cruel.

Then, I woke up.

I was back at the very moment it all began-with Belen on her knees, begging me to fix her broken engagement to Dedric.

This time, I looked at the man who would destroy me and the woman who would help him, and I smiled.

"He's all yours."

Chapter 1

Evelyn POV:

"Evelyn, please! You have to help me!" Belen's voice was a desperate, ugly screech, tearing through the thin walls of my carefully constructed calm.

I didn't answer right away. I just watched her through the cracked door.

She was on her knees, clutching my father's expensive Persian rug like it was her last hope. Her perfect blonde hair was disheveled, her designer dress rumpled.

It was almost comical. Almost.

My father, Bob Harris, stood over her, his face a mask of weary exasperation. He didn't offer a hand to his sobbing legitimate daughter.

He just sighed, a deep, burdened sound that always signaled he was about to make a decision that would benefit him, and only him.

"Evelyn, your sister is distraught," he said, his voice flat, devoid of real emotion. "Dedric has called off the engagement."

He looked at me, his eyes cold and calculating. There was never any warmth for me, his illegitimate child, the inconvenient truth of his past mistakes.

I was just a tool to him, a disposable asset to be used for alliances, never a daughter to be cherished.

A pawn. That's all I had ever been in this family.

I ignored Belen's dramatic sobs, focusing instead on her face. Her eyes, red-rimmed and puffy, still held that familiar glint of self-pity and entitlement.

She wasn't mourning a lost love. She was mourning a lost opportunity.

A lost victory over me.

Belen had always hated me, from the moment I was brought into this house as a teenager, a living monument to my father's infidelity. She saw me as a constant threat, someone who could steal her spotlight, her inheritance, her future.

She had succeeded in stealing my past.

The memory hit me like a physical blow, a phantom pain in my chest. Not a memory from this life, but from the one before. The one where I had been stupid, naive, and hopelessly in love with Dedric Morgan.

The life where Belen and Dedric had conspired to steal everything from me. My position, my children, my very life.

I had died in that life. Murdered.

And then, I woke up. Right back here. In this house. In this moment.

It had been a brutal, terrifying rebirth. A second chance I hadn't asked for, but one I intended to use.

Belen was still wailing about Dedric. Oh, how she had schemed. She'd slept with him, flaunted it, made sure I found out. All to break my engagement to him, to take what she thought was "mine."

In my past life, it had worked. I was heartbroken, devastated, but I still married Dedric because my father forced me to. He couldn't risk the alliance with the powerful Morgan family.

In that life, Dedric was heir to a vast political dynasty, poised to become Chairman of the powerful consortium that governed our society. Marriage to him meant power, status, and the promise of a glorious future.

And children. Especially the "first heir." Oh, the pressure.

I remembered the excruciating pain of my first pregnancy, the constant fear of miscarriage, the isolation. Dedric was never truly there. He saw the child as a means to an end, a political chip.

A pure-blooded heir to solidify his position.

Belen, in that life, had married another powerful but less influential man. Her marriage was sterile, a fact she secretly resented, believing it was my fault, some cosmic injustice.

She became bitter, fixated on my rising status, my healthy children. The "first heir" was mine then, my son, and later, my daughter.

She hated my happiness. She hated my children.

Her jealousy festered, turning into a cancerous obsession. She wanted everything I had.

And in the end, she took it.

She and Dedric. They had killed me.

The thought sent a tremor through me, a cold fury that threatened to break through my carefully constructed facade. My fingers curled into fists, nails digging into my palms. The pain was a grounding force, pulling me back to the present.

No. Not this time.

I needed to be calm. Strategic. They wouldn't get a chance to hurt me again.

Belen looked up, her eyes narrowing as she saw my blank expression. She probably expected tears, anger, despair. She always did.

"Evelyn, are you even listening?" she snapped, her desperation momentarily forgotten in favor of her usual petulance. "Dedric left me! You need to go talk to him! You're the reason he even knows our family!"

My father looked at me expectantly. "She's right, Evelyn. You were engaged to him. You know him. Fix this."

I took a deep breath, letting the icy resolve solidify inside me.

"No," I said, my voice quiet, almost a whisper. "I don't need to fix anything."

Belen gasped, aghast. My father's brow furrowed.

"I don't want Dedric Morgan," I continued, my voice gaining strength. "You can have him, Belen. He's all yours."

Belen stared at me, her mouth agape, then slowly, a triumphant, wicked smile spread across her face. My father let out a long, relieved exhale.

"Good," he said, nodding. "Excellent. Then it's settled. Belen, go. Go to Dedric. Tell him she said it herself. He's yours."

Belen scrambled to her feet, her despair instantly replaced by gloating victory.

"You really don't want him?" she asked, her voice dripping with disbelief and thinly veiled glee.

"Not anymore," I replied, my gaze steady. "He's all yours, Belen. Enjoy your prize."

Belen didn't wait. She practically flew out of the room, her footsteps echoing down the hall. A new battle won, in her mind. A new prize snatched from me. Her sweet, sweet victory.