Inside, nestled against the satin lining, sat a gold four-leaf clover necklace.

"Did you forget what today is? It's your birthday."

"Your husband remembered. Look, I got this just for you."

In my previous life, I'd been moved to tears when Joel gave me this necklace.

I threw myself into his arms, laughing and crying at the same time, and from that day on I devoted myself to this family without reservation.

But now, knowing the necklace was fake, all I felt was a chill creeping up my spine.

He was using the same playbook from my last life to keep me tethered.

To make me pour everything I had into this family.

He and Laurel were running a textbook good-cop-bad-cop routine.

The goal was simple: make me give in.

A flash of jealousy crossed Maya's eyes.

But her voice was all concession:

"Don't worry, Leila. I won't take your money for nothing. Once I'm settled in my job, I'll save up and pay you back. Every cent."

Laurel softened her tone too, taking my hand and patting the back of it gently:

"Leila, dear, family is supposed to help each other out. Maya isn't the type to forget a kindness!"

Three pairs of eyes fixed on me, brimming with expectation.

Waiting for me to fold.

But their eagerness to push the house purchase through stirred something uneasy in my gut.

I suddenly remembered what the clerk had told me in my previous life, after Joel transferred the property to Maya.

I'd asked offhandedly:

"When did this happen?"

The clerk flipped through the file, looked up, and said:

"2019."

2019. The year my son was born.

That year, Maya and I were pregnant at the same time. Joel signed the property over to her to "give her some security."

In my last life, Maya's excuse for borrowing three hundred thousand from me had been a car. This time, it was a house.

She was this desperate to move out of the family home. Could it be because she was already pregnant?

The thought snapped my gaze down to Maya's stomach.

Maya flinched, one hand instinctively shielding her abdomen as she stepped back.

A reflex. Pure self-preservation.

Everything clicked into place.

The last trace of warmth in my heart went cold.

I pressed my back against the wall and let my gaze travel slowly across the three faces in front of me.

When I spoke, my voice could have frosted glass.

"Joel. I want a divorce."

"Here's the property division agreement and the divorce plan I've drawn up."

"I'm serious. Sign it."