The car crash happened on our way home for the holidays. One moment, my husband, Jeremy, and I were driving; the next, darkness. When I opened my eyes again, we were back before we even started dating. In my first life, our seven-year marriage was a masterclass in politeness. We were like respectful strangers sharing a roof, a bed, but never a heart. He wouldn’t even give me a child. It was only later that I understood why: he had never gotten over his first love, the one that got away. So, this time, I decided to set him free. Without a word, we quietly deleted each other from our contacts, kept our distance, and chose different paths. Seven years later, he was a rising star on Wall Street, and at our high school reunion, he and his old flame, Isabella Vance, made their engagement official. He saw me standing alone and couldn't resist a taunt, a smirk playing on his lips. "Jodi," he said, his voice laced with condescending pity. "I know I was the best you ever had, the love of your life in two lifetimes. But you don't have to stay single forever, waiting for me." I didn't bother to answer. I just reached out and took my son's hand. The color drained from Jeremy’s face. His eyes, suddenly wild and bloodshot, locked onto me. "You told me you'd love me forever," he hissed, his voice cracking. "That you'd only ever have children with me." 1 The first time I saw Jeremy Olson again was at our seven-year high school reunion. I’d just come off a marathon of surgeries and was too exhausted to even think about changing. I walked straight into the lavish hotel ballroom in my scrubs. Jeremy was the center of attention, of course, his arm wrapped possessively around Isabella Vance's waist as he soaked in the praise. "Jeremy, you're killing it, man!" one old classmate gushed. "A few years on Wall Street and you're already one of the biggest names. You're the pride of Oakhaven High!" "No kidding," another chimed in. "I heard the big dogs in New York pay a fortune just to have dinner with him. The consulting fee alone is what most of us make in a year!" "Hey, Jeremy, I'm dabbling in stocks," a third pleaded. "For old times' sake, give me a tip, let me ride your coattails!" Then, a curious voice cut through the noise. "So, Jeremy, are you and Isabella finally tying the knot?" Jeremy’s gaze softened as he looked down at the woman in his arms. "We are. The engagement party is December 20th." A fresh wave of congratulations erupted. Then, someone turned to him. "Jeremy, do you ever talk to Jodi anymore? You two were so intense back in the day. Didn't you write your first song for her?" At the mention of my name, I saw his smile freeze, his eyes darken ever so slightly. Isabella, ever the graceful fiancée, just laughed it off. "Oh, you know how it is," she said, her voice smooth as silk. "High school hobbies don't last, and neither do high school romances. He's been over Jodi for a long, long time." The crowd chuckled, turning their attention back to what a perfect couple they were. But I knew the truth. That song wasn't just a song. It was the melody he’d written to ask me out, the one he’d played for me under the bleachers, his eyes shining with what I thought was sincerity. "Jodi, look at me," he'd said back then, his voice earnest. "I love you. My eyes would never lie." And I believed him. Turns out, they could and they did. I walked further into the ballroom, my expression neutral. A classmate with sharp eyes spotted me. "Jodi! You finally made it!" "What are you wearing? You couldn't find a dress?" "Don't tell me you just got off work. Where are you slaving away these days? We've got some heavy hitters here, maybe one of them can hook you up with a real job!" The whispers and snickers followed me as I found an empty seat. I ignored them, focusing on the simple, profound pleasure of food. Jeremy had been watching me since the moment I walked in. His gaze was a heavy, unreadable weight. He finally broke the silence, his voice dripping with mockery. "Jodi Summers. Years go by, and you haven't changed a bit. Still no ambition." Isabella’s eyes flashed with a venomous glint, but she quickly masked it, snuggling closer to Jeremy's arm as if to mark her territory. "Jeremy, darling, don't be so harsh," she cooed, her voice loud enough for everyone to hear. "Life's been a little rough for her, we shouldn't rub it in. Jodi's had it hard enough." She raked her eyes over my casual attire, a smirk playing on her perfectly painted lips. "But really, Jodi, what is this look? You're not getting any younger. A woman has to take care of herself, you know. Otherwise, how will you ever find a husband? What man wants a woman who's let herself go?" She leaned in conspiratorially. "Do you need to borrow some makeup?" The question hung in the air, followed by a ripple of suppressed laughter. The contrast was stark. Isabella was a vision in designer labels, her makeup flawless, every strand of hair in place, radiating the effortless confidence of old money. And then there was me. I hadn't slept in nearly 24 hours, fresh from the operating room, looking as haggard as I felt. My clothes were comfortable, unbranded, and a world away from her curated perfection. "No, thank you. I'm fine," I replied calmly, turning my attention back to my plate. After the intensity of surgery, I hadn't eaten all day. As I was savoring a bite of steak, Jeremy approached my table. He slid a check across the polished wood, placing it directly in front of me. It was for ten thousand dollars. "This is for old times' sake," he said, his tone that of a benevolent king bestowing charity. "A little something to help you out. Treat yourself. Get a more respectable job, buy some new clothes. Learn to love yourself again." He paused, his expression shifting. "Jodi, the past is the past. Don't dwell on it." He sighed dramatically. "If it weren't for you... well, it doesn't matter now." "What matters is that you can't let my leaving destroy you. You can't just give up on life like this. Promise me." I looked up, genuinely confused. What had I done in our past life that made him so certain he had to abandon me in this one? In that other life, we went from high school sweethearts to a married couple. He had his musical dreams, and I had my dream of becoming a doctor—both paths were draining, financially and emotionally. One of us had to sacrifice. And because I loved him, I was the one who walked away from a prestigious medical residency, taking a job to support both of our dreams on a single income. He failed, again and again. Each rejection plunged him into a deeper despair. And I was his constant, his endless source of support, coming home exhausted only to spend hours rebuilding his fragile ego. I thought he saw my love in that sacrifice. I was wrong. The breaking point came when he wanted a new, expensive guitar, and I had to tell him we simply couldn't afford it. He exploded, smashing his old guitar against the wall in a fit of rage. "Don't you get it?!" he screamed, his face twisted with resentment. "If I had just listened to Isabella and gone to America with her, I wouldn't be living like this! I regret ever getting together with you!" After that, he gave up on music. He lost his dream. And his words—"I regret ever getting together with you"—became a ghost that haunted my nights. I made one last, desperate attempt to save us. I wrapped my arms around him one night and whispered, "Jeremy, I want to have a baby with you." He shoved me away, his eyes filled with a chilling disgust. "Are you insane? Look at our finances! We can't afford a child! Besides, I've told you before, I hate kids! I don't want to have a child with you!" Those two sentences shattered the last bit of hope in my heart. When that truck swerved into our lane on New Year's, I wasn't scared. I was relieved. It was an escape. Now, we had both been given a second chance, and we had both chosen to walk away. There was no need for "old times' sake." I pushed the check back towards him. "No, thank you. I don't accept gifts from strangers." 2 His brow furrowed. "A stranger, Jodi? What is that supposed to mean?" "It means," I said, my voice even, "that I can buy my own clothes. And whatever my job is, I find it perfectly respectable. I'm not giving up on anything. You should keep your money for someone who actually needs it." He stood there, clutching the check, his lips pressed into a thin, angry line. Isabella glided to his side, her eyes flicking from the check to my face. A storm of anger brewed behind her carefully composed expression, but her voice was as gentle as ever. "Jodi, if you won't accept our help, perhaps we can offer something more... practical." She smiled, a benefactor to a charity case. "I just opened a new nail salon on Grand Avenue. I could set you up as an apprentice. The pay isn't amazing, maybe six thousand a month to start, but you'd learn a real skill. That way, if you ever hit rock bottom, you'd at least have a trade to fall back on." "What do you think?" she pressed. "It has to be more respectable than whatever you're doing now." I calmly continued eating, refusing to be baited. "Thank you for the offer, but I'm quite happy with my current job. I have no plans to change careers." An old classmate shouted from across the room, "Jodi, don't be an idiot! Jeremy and Isabella are being generous! They're offering you money, a job! Just take it!" "Yeah, seriously," another chimed in. "You're clearly struggling, swallow your pride! Why else would you even show up to a reunion looking like that if you weren't looking for a handout? Stop putting on an act!" Isabella jumped in, playing the peacemaker. "Everyone, please! Don't say that! Maybe Jodi genuinely loves her job." She turned back to me, her eyes gleaming with false sympathy. "Jodi, this is a real opportunity. We're only offering because of our history. Don't let your pride get in the way." I truly couldn't comprehend this bizarre need to force charity on me. "Really, I don't need it. Thank you." Isabella's smile remained, but her eyes were cold with disdain. Jeremy finally crumpled the check in his fist. "You can't help someone who won't help themselves," he sneered. "A lost cause. Fine, stay poor for the rest of your life for all I care!" As if his words were a signal, a group of the guys, emboldened by alcohol, swarmed my table. "Jodi, you look like you could use a break," one of them slurred, shoving a drink toward me. "Drink this, and I'll send you a thousand bucks." "If you're really that desperate..." another one added, his eyes roaming over me in a way that made my skin crawl, "...I could add a little more to the pot." The rest of the group hooted with laughter. No one stepped in. My patience snapped. This was a far cry from the friendly reunion I'd expected. If I wasn't waiting for someone, I would have already walked out. I was about to call for security when Jeremy, who had been watching from the side, suddenly stubbed out his cigarette and grabbed the man's arm. His voice was ice. "Back off." The man yelped in pain as Jeremy's grip tightened. Isabella rushed over, tugging on Jeremy's sleeve. "Jeremy, what are you doing?!" His face was a cold mask. "Being a decent human being. This is a class reunion, not a frat party." He shoved the man away. The guy didn't dare challenge Jeremy, but he shot me a venomous glare before retreating. I couldn't help but stare at Jeremy, surprised that he would defend me. Isabella looked like she wanted to chew nails, but she forced a bright smile. "Anyway! I heard the CEO and the young heir of the Apex Group are having a meeting upstairs. If we're lucky, we might get to see the city's richest man in person!" The mood in the room shifted instantly. The Apex Group. Its CEO was a legend—handsome, powerful, and still in his thirties, with a five-year-old son. But the identity of his wife was the city's best-kept secret. "Does that mean we might see his wife tonight? I've gotta post this on TikTok!" "This is front-page news!" Moments later, a team of bodyguards entered the ballroom, escorting a small boy. The crowd buzzed with excitement. "Look at that entourage! That must be him, the Apex heir! He's so handsome!" The man who had harassed me, now nursing his wrist, sidled up to me again. "See, Jodi? If it weren't for Isabella, a working-class nobody like you would never even be in the same room as the Apex prince. If I were you, I'd get on my knees and thank her. Maybe she'd help you land a decent job, or even a guy like me who makes a whole six thousand a month." Pathetic. I ignored him, my gaze fixed on the boy. Everyone swarmed forward, phones out, taking pictures and videos. Even the ever-composed Isabella put on her most charming smile and approached the child, practically oozing with manufactured warmth. "Hello there, little one," she cooed, reaching out to pinch his cheek. "Is there anything you'd like to eat? Auntie can buy it for you." But the boy, who had looked so serious and aloof surrounded by his guards, completely ignored her. His eyes scanned the room, landed on me, and lit up. He broke away from his security detail and ran straight towards me, a brilliant smile on his face. "Mommy!" he cried, throwing himself into my arms. "You're finally here!" The little prince who had been so cool and distant a moment ago was now looking up at me with big, teary eyes. "You didn't come home last night! I missed you so, so much!" I hugged my son tight, stroking his hair. "I was working, sweetie," I murmured. "I told you before I left, remember? But guess what? Mommy's off tomorrow. We can go play anywhere you want. How does that sound?" My precious Leo nodded eagerly. "Yes! Mommy is the best!" The entire room was silent. Every single person was staring at us, their faces a mixture of shock and utter disbelief. Just as someone was about to speak, a devastatingly handsome man in a tailored suit rushed down from the upstairs conference room. "Honey," he said, his voice warm with relief. "The hotel manager told me you were at a reunion down here. Why didn't you call me when you got off your shift? I would have picked you up." The hotel manager stood beside him, beaming. "Ladies and gentlemen," he announced to the stunned crowd, "Allow me to introduce the President of the Apex Group, Mr. Travis Wade, and his wife, Dr. Jodi Summers. Please, enjoy your evening. If our esteemed guests require anything at all, we are at your service." The atmosphere crackled. The people who had just been mocking me were now staring with wide, excited eyes. Those who had been cruelest looked pale and sick. A few of my closer friends from school finally found their voices. "Jodi... your husband is Travis Wade? The richest man in the city?" "Are you kidding? Didn't you hear the manager? The little heir just called her 'Mommy'! She is the secret wife!" "Oh my god... now that is true royalty..." I could only offer a small, polite smile as the whispers turned into a roar. Travis looked me over, his expression softening with concern as he pulled me into a gentle embrace. "Just got out of the hospital again? Let's get you home to rest as soon as you're ready." I nodded. "Okay." Then, my cool and powerful husband completely ignored Isabella, who was trying to catch his eye, and looked directly at Jeremy. His voice was laced with a cool, cutting disdain.
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