Chapter 25: You Look Horrible
VANESSA BELMONT
The thought sent a wave of nausea through me. I curled into myself, gripping the phone so hard the edges bit into my palm.
Here I was, in my precious second life, falling in love with my husband all over again.
Idiot.
Would I be doomed to die on my wedding day again? Or worse, live as his nominal wife while he kept Fiona as his not-so-secret lover?
Oh, hell nah. I would burn the contract in front of his face and stomp on the ashes.
The photo was seared into my mind. Fiona’s smirk. Nathan’s closed eyes. The intimacy of the moment—real or staged—that I could never unsee.
Sleep came in jagged fragments, restless and unsatisfying. Every time I closed my eyes, the image flickered behind my lids, disturbing my dreams, stabbing my heart.
My phone glowed unnaturally bright in the darkness, casting long shadows that slithered up the walls. I tried to scream but my mouth stitched itself shut, lips fusing together with invisible thread. My legs moved without my consent, carrying me toward the door.
When my hand touched the knob, it burned. The door swung open to reveal a body on a metal table. The body was covered by a white sheet. All except the face. The face ... was mine. Nathan stood over my unconscious body holding divorce papers dripping in blood.
"Sign them," he said. Behind him, monitors flatlined in perfect sync with my real heart’s pounding. Fiona materialized from the shadows, her engagement ring pulsating on her finger. "He was never yours," she crooned. "Not in your first life and not in your second life."