Back to the Banquet

I knew perfectly well that people from the Emirates do not eat pork.

Yet this time, I watched in silence as my husband's childhood sweetheart insisted on placing a pork dish on the table. In fact, I even supported her decision.

In my past life, when our company hosted a welcome banquet for powerful investors from the Emirates, she had been desperate to flaunt her cooking. Against all reason, she forced a pork dish onto the menu.

I stopped her then. I explained that pork was forbidden by religious belief, and that offending the investors could cost us everything. If they withdrew their funding, the company's finances would collapse overnight.

She took my warning as jealousy. In a fit of rage, she ran out of the banquet hall and was struck by a car, leaving her in a permanent vegetative state.

I thought my husband would break down. Instead, he remained calm, stayed through the dinner, and secured the investment in surprisingly calmness.

The truth revealed itself later. After the company went public, he brought me abroad under the guise of business, only to drag me onto a medical ship in international waters.

As my kidney was cut from my body, I cried and asked him why.

His answer came with a slap.

"If you hadn't been jealous back then... If you hadn't tried to sabotage her, she wouldn't have ended up like that."

I died in agony on the operating table.

After my death, he used the money from selling my organs to cure his beloved childhood sweetheart, and the two of them went on to live rich, comfortable lives together.

And then I opened my eyes again, back to the very day she decided to serve pork to the clients.

Emily Larson's shrill voice echoed through the banquet hall.

"This meatball dish is something I paid a fortune to learn from a master chef at a five-star hotel. It's a perfect harmony between meat and vegetables. The broth is rich and fragrant, and its plating exquisite. How could the clients possibly be unhappy?"

Hearing that familiar voice of my nemesis, I snapped fully awake and realized that I had been reborn.

Her voice drew the other colleagues, who quickly gathered around.

Emily's eyes instantly reddened, her tone filled with grievance.

"Everyone, please judge for yourselves. I paid out of my own pocket and spent a lot of money learning this cooking just to entertain our guests properly, but Ms. Hardings refuses to let me do it. I only want to make the clients happy. How is that wrong?"

She turned to me and continued, "I know you've always been jealous and held a grudge because I grew up with Kenneth, but that's all in the past. You're his wife now. I'm just a humble intern hoping to pass my probation and get a permanent position. Can't you just be merciful to me?"

The looks my colleagues gave me immediately turned hostile, and they–one after another–began criticizing me.

"Ms.