Mistress's Second Life Revenge

I woke up in my New York penthouse bedroom, sunlight harsh in my eyes.

The date on my phone read five years ago, before the fire, before I died.

My breath hitched in my throat as I understood: I was reborn.

My husband, Ethan, walked in, his voice flat, demanding I authorize a quarter-million dollar transfer from my trust fund.

In my first life, that money went to Chloe Sanders, his intern, his mistress.

Every painful memory came flooding back: his coldness, his brazen affairs, and finally, him locking me in a remote ski lodge wing as smoke filled the air.

He drove away, leaving me to die in the flames.

I whispered that I didn't feel well, but he only scoffed, telling me to sign the papers and stop being dramatic.

Later, I saw him with Chloe, his tenderness and warm smile solely for her, confirming his betrayal was still ongoing.

When I finally confronted him, his hand swung, cracking across my cheek, leaving me stunned and bleeding.

He then slammed the door to our bedroom shut, locking me inside, threatening a private care facility, calling me "unhinged."

The injustice burned, fueling a cold fury deeper than fear.

Was this my cruel fate, to relive the same nightmare with the same monster?

Why had I been given a second chance, only to face his baseless accusations and violence once more?

This time, I wouldn't just endure his cruelty; I would break free.

As I sent a coded message to my parents, my escape plan was in motion, and my fight for freedom had truly begun.

I woke up.

The sunlight was too bright in my eyes.

I knew this room. My bedroom in the New York penthouse.

But it felt wrong.

I looked at my phone. The date.

My breath stopped.

This was five years ago.

Five years before the fire.

Before I died.

The door opened. Ethan walked in.

My husband.

He looked younger. Colder, if that was possible.

"Ava," he said. His voice was flat. "I need you to authorize the transfer. From your trust fund."

He didn't look at me. He looked at the wall above my head.

"Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars," he said. "For a new venture at Davenport Global."

I stared at him.

Reborn. I was reborn.

The money. I remembered the money.

In my first life, that money was for Chloe Sanders. His intern. His mistress.

The memories hit me.

Hard.

The ski lodge in the Catskills. The blizzard.

Ethan's face, twisted with anger. "You'll stay here until you agree to the divorce, Ava."

He locked the door to that old wing of the lodge.

I screamed.

He walked away. I saw his car drive down the snow-covered road.

Then the smell of smoke. The fire.

The heat. The pain.

My last thought: "If I get another chance... I won't make these mistakes again."

And now, here I was.

Another chance.

The room spun. I felt sick.

"Ethan," I whispered. My voice was weak. "I... I don't feel well."

He finally glanced at me. No concern in his eyes.

Just annoyance.

"Just sign the papers, Ava," he said. "Don't be dramatic. I have a meeting."

He put a thin folder and a pen on the bedside table.

Then he turned and walked out.

The door clicked shut behind him.

He didn't even wait to see if I was okay.

My heart felt like a stone in my chest.

This was him. This was Ethan.

Nothing had changed. He was still the same cruel man.

The dizziness passed.

A cold feeling spread through me.

Not fear.

Resolve.

I had to see her. Chloe Sanders.

I needed to see her now, in this new timeline.

To know. To be sure.

I got out of bed. My legs were a little shaky.

But I made them move.

I dressed quickly. Simple clothes.

I had to see what I was up against.

I took a taxi to Davenport Global.

I knew Chloe' s routine from my first life.

She was an intern. She liked to be near Ethan's office around lunchtime.

Hoping he would notice her.

He always did.

I stood by the elevators, pretending to wait.

And then I saw them.

Ethan and Chloe.

They were standing in the hallway, near his office.

Chloe was looking up at Ethan. Her face was a mask of sweet innocence.

A small, worried frown on her lips.

She was probably telling him about some small problem, making herself look like a damsel in distress.

Ethan was smiling down at her.

A warm smile. The kind he never gave me.

He touched her arm. A gentle, reassuring touch.

"Don't worry, Chloe," I heard him say. "I'll take care of it."

My stomach twisted.

That look. That touch.

It was all the same.

This was Chloe's gift to me, in a way.

This sight.

It killed any tiny, stupid hope I might have had.

There was nothing left to save with Ethan.

He was already hers.

My path was clear. I had to get away.

From him. From her. From this life.

I went back to the penthouse.

Ethan was there, in his study. He looked up when I walked in.

Impatient.

"Did you sign the papers?" he asked.

I didn't say anything.

I walked to the table where he' d left the folder.

I picked up the pen.

I signed the authorization. Giving him my money.

"There," I said. My voice was steady.

He nodded, not really looking.

Then he pushed a small pile of envelopes towards me. Invitations. RSVPs.

"Handle these," he said. "The Harrison Mills gala is next month. Confirm our attendance for all of them."

He was already turning back to his computer, his phone to his ear.

Dismissing me.

I picked up the top card. An RSVP for some charity dinner.

Mr. and Mrs. Ethan Davenport.

I looked at the line for the signature.

Slowly, carefully, I wrote: Ethan Davenport.

His full name. In my handwriting.

I put the card in the 'yes' pile.

He wouldn't notice. He never noticed details about me, or us.

It was a small thing.

A tiny act of rebellion.

My first step.

A strange bitterness filled my mouth, but also a spark.

A spark of something new.

Independence.

I needed to talk to my parents.

Marcus and Eleanor Harrison.

In my first life, they were devastated.

Ethan had ruined them, taken Harrison Mills, after I died.

This time, I wouldn't let that happen.

I called my mother.

"Mom," I said, my voice trembling a little. "I need to see you. Both of you. It's urgent."

She heard the fear in my voice.

"Ava, darling, what's wrong?"

"I can't explain over the phone. Can you come to the penthouse? Or I can come to you."

"We'll come to you, sweetheart. We'll be there in an hour."

They arrived looking worried.

I told them everything.

Not about the rebirth. They would think I was crazy.

But about Ethan. His coldness. His affairs. His plan to use my trust fund.

I told them I believed he wanted to control Harrison Mills, to absorb it completely.

And that I wanted a divorce.

My mother cried. My father' s face was grim.

"We knew he was ambitious, Ava," Dad said. "But this..."

"He's using you," Mom whispered, holding my hand. "And us."

"I want out, Mom, Dad," I said. "I need to leave him. But I need your help. I need to protect what's ours. Harrison Mills."

"Of course, darling," Dad said immediately. "Your happiness, your safety, that's all that matters. We'll figure out the company."

"We'll downsize if we have to," Mom added. "We'll fight him."

Relief washed over me. They believed me. They would help me.

This time, things would be different.

A week later, it was our wedding anniversary.

Five years.

In my first life, on this day, Ethan had forgotten.

Then, when I reminded him, he' d given me a necklace.

A beautiful diamond necklace.

Which I later found out he had bought for Chloe. She hadn't liked it, so he gave it to me.

Recycled. Like I was.

This time, I said nothing about the anniversary.

He didn't remember. Of course.

He came home late. Chloe's scent was faint on his suit.

He barely spoke to me.

The next morning, he left early.

I knew he was meeting Chloe for a "business breakfast."

The irony didn't escape me.

I started clearing out my things.

Slowly. Quietly.

Things he had given me. Jewelry. Clothes.

Each item felt like a weight.

I found a small, locked box in the back of his closet.

I knew the combination. His birth year.

Inside, there were no business documents.

There were pictures of Chloe.

Smiling. Laughing. Looking at him with adoration.

There were dried flowers. A cheap cinema ticket stub. A silly keychain.

Mementos.

Things he kept hidden.

Things that showed how much he cared for her.

He had never kept anything of mine like this.

A sharp pain went through me.

Not for the loss of his love. I knew that was long gone.

But for the fool I had been. For so long.

He came home unexpectedly that afternoon.

He found me in his closet, the open box in my hands.

His face turned dark.

"What are you doing?" he snarled. "Snooping through my things?"

"These are for Chloe, aren't they?" I asked. My voice was flat.

He snatched the box from me.

"It's none of your business," he said, his voice dangerously low.

"After five years of marriage, Ethan, I think it is."

He grabbed my arm. Hard. His fingers dug into my skin.

"You will not question me, Ava."

His eyes were cold. Like ice.

Pain shot up my arm.

I pulled away from him.

"Don't touch me," I said.

That night, I took the few things I truly valued – my grandmother' s pearls, some old family photos.

The rest of his gifts, the jewelry, the expensive trinkets?

I gathered them all.

And in the cold fireplace of my sitting room, I burned them.

The diamonds didn't burn, but they blackened in the flames.

It felt good.

A cleansing.