He Chose Her. I Chose to Start Over.

His precious childhood sweetheart got drunk one night and ended up in a stranger’s bed.

When she showed up again, she was pregnant—just like me.

On the day I gave birth, Harold handed me the divorce papers.

"Rachel’s about to return to acting," he said coldly. "She and the baby need a proper title. If a scandal breaks out, it’ll destroy her."

Dragging my frail body, I calmly signed the papers.

In my previous life, I refused to step aside.

I went live, holding my daughter, and exposed the award-winning actress Rachel Underwood for knowingly becoming the other woman.

The internet turned on her.

She lost every endorsement and was driven to the edge by massive fines—eventually jumping off a building.

Harold quietly took care of her funeral... and then stood by as her fans harassed me in the streets, even tried to burn my child and me alive.

It was not until I saw him lock the door behind us that I realized—he had wanted us dead all along.

Then I woke up. And it was the day he gave me the divorce agreement... again.

My daughter Amy was born prematurely, so she was placed in an incubator the moment she came into the world.

Right then, Harold Soulman handed me divorce papers.

I had just made it back from the brink of death, and even the slightest movement tugged at the wound on my body.

Now that I had been reborn on this very day, it was clear that fate was giving me a second chance to choose differently.

"Fine, I'll sign the divorce—but only after the birth certificate is issued. And I want compensation."

Harold had actually prepared a whole speech to deal with my expected tears and drama. The moment he saw how calmly I accepted everything, he looked visibly relieved.

"Sure. A million. That should be enough, right?"

He was a man worth billions, yet that was all he was willing to give—one million.

I clenched the bedsheet tightly. I knew it would be pointless even if I asked for more, so I nodded.

He went off to get the paperwork done. Once I confirmed everything was in order, I signed my name.

With the agreement in hand, Harold could not wait to rush off to Rachel Underwood. He did not even spare a glance at our child.

Next door, the hospital room was bustling with celebration over a newborn. But in my room, there was no family—no parents, no husband. I had nothing.

Two days later, Amy was finally discharged from the incubator. I wrapped her up tightly, bundled myself as well, and prepared to go home.

On the way, I got a call from a secretary.

"Ms. Qoss, please remember to repost the group's press release."

We hadn't filed the divorce at the courthouse yet, and already I was not worthy of the title 'Mrs. Soulman'.

To preserve Rachel's dignity, Harold had asked me to say the divorce was due to irreconcilable differences.