The living room brimmed with expensive gifts after my daughter Ivy’s one–month celebration.
I stood there, dazed, holding her tiny body close as I took in the sea of lavish presents surrounding us.
“Bring it over and put it here!”
The sharp voice cut through the air like nails on a chalkboard.
I turned and saw Marissa, my husband Caleb’s childhood sweetheart, waddling in with her swollen belly, directing two workers who were struggling to carry a large religious cross.
At first glance, the cross seemed holy–serene, even–but the longer I looked, the more a sense of unease crept over
- me.
There was something deeply wrong, something almost malicious about it.
“What are you doing?”
I demanded, my voice trembling with anger and disbelief.
Without waiting for an answer, I rushed forward and shoved the heavy cross to the floor.
It landed with a loud crash, smashing down onto Marissa’s foot.
“Ahh!” she shrieked, doubling over in tears, her face twisted in pain.
“Lydia, what is wrong with you?”
Caleb roared, storming toward me as he scooped up the fallen cross, cradling it as though I’d just desecrated something sacred.
“This cross is a gift from Marissa!” he snapped.
“She spent weeks fasting and praying at the Hillcreek chapel just to get it blessed. How could you be so ungrateful?”
Ungrateful?
Me?
I clutched Ivy closer, my anger bubbling beneath the surface as my gaze darted between Caleb and Marissa.
In my last life, this very day had marked the beginning of the end.
That cross had been brought into my home by Marissa.
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Screw You, Ex! My New Life’s Hotter Than Your Money!
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I’d been so naive, so trusting, believing her when she said it was a blessing.
I had placed it at the heart of our living room, praying to it every day for Ivy’s health and protection.
Ivy had been born premature, and I was desperate to do anything to make her stronger.
But instead of helping her, the cross had sapped her strength.
Her condition worsened day by day.
Doctors couldn’t explain it. Tests showed nothing.
I threw myself into taking care of Ivy, leaving Caleb to manage the family business.
But no matter what I did, Ivy grew weaker,
She didn’t even make it to her 100th day.
Her tiny body withered away to skin and bones before finally succumbing to organ failure.
And on that very same day, Marissa gave birth to a healthy, bouncing baby boy.
While I was cradling my daughter’s lifeless body, Caleb wasn’t by my side.
He was at the hospital, holding Marissa’s hand, welcoming their son into the world.
When I called Caleb, sobbing uncontrollably, to tell him Ivy was gone, his response was cold and cutting.
“You couldn’t even keep our child alive,” he spat.
“You’re pathetic.”
And as if that wasn’t enough, he refused to let Ivy be buried in the family plot.
“She ruined the family’s luck,” he said, as if her death had been an inconvenience.
He told me to take her somewhere else, to dispose of her like she was nothing.
The loss of my child, Caleb’s cruelty, and Marissa’s betrayal shattered me.
I spiraled into a deep, unrelenting depression.
At the time, I thought it was just life being unfair, the universe dealing me a cruel hand.
I couldn’t have been more wrong.
On my deathbed, the truth finally came to light.
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Chapter 1
Marissa had used that cross to drain Ivy’s life force.
She needed it to save her own unborn child.
Caleb and Marissa had been lovers all along, but Caleb’s mother had disapproved of Marissa because of her poor family background.
That’s why Caleb had married me instead–because I came with wealth and property, my parents‘ inheritance.
I thought I had married my soulmate.
In reality, I had married into a nightmare.
When Marissa became pregnant with Caleb’s child, her health issues made it impossible for her to carry to term.
Desperate to save her baby, she turned to the cross and its cursed ritual–trading Ivy’s life for her son’s.
Her child survived. Ivy did not.
After my death, they took everything: my home, my business, even my dignity.
My ashes were never claimed, my memory discarded as they played house with their precious son.
But fate wasn’t done with me yet.
Somehow, I woke up–back in my own body, back on this very day, the day Marissa brought that cursed cross into my home.
