A Second Chance at Vengeance

"I'm not playing mute. I just find everything about her disgusting." I froze outside the private booth. My nails dug so hard into the doorframe they threatened to snap.

Through the narrow crack, the man swirling a glass of scotch and laughing effortlessly was my husband.

Ever since his precious first love died, he had played the tragic mute for four solid years. "Declan, man, playing the disabled husband at home every day must be driving you insane, huh?" one of his fratbro friends jeered.

My lungs seized. Every breath I took came out in ragged, shaking gasps. Four years of me waiting on him hand and foot. Four years of absolute, freezing silence.

A blinding light suddenly pierced my vision. The sickening screech of tires shattered the world into pieces. When I opened my eyes again, the air was dead silent.

I was thrust back five years. His untouchable first love was still breathing. Declan stood right in front of me, his brows pinched together in that familiar scowl.

Without a single second of hesitation, I shoved him hard toward that woman, clapping my hands together in disgust as if brushing off dirt.

I stared at him with eyes like dead ice. "Go to her." The annoyance on his face shattered instantly. He grabbed my wrist.

His grip was tight, his fingertips freezing cold, and his voice actually trembled. "Why are you pushing me away?" Chapter 1 For Declan's birthday, I prepared a special gift.

I spent hours in the kitchen, cooking an entire table of his favorite dishes from scratch. But I waited for hours, and he never showed up. The food turned stone cold.

I tracked down one of his frat bros and found out Declan was at the Spring Cloud Lounge. I grabbed my coat and drove straight there, my face blank.

Neon lights pulsed through the glass of the VIP booth. Inside, it was a chaotic mess of clinking glasses, intertwined bodies, and loud laughter. His entire inner circle was there.

I reached for the handle, pushing the heavy door open just a crack. The thumping bass faded, letting the voices inside bleed through with crystal clarity.

One of his guys slapped him on the back. "Declan, man, playing the disabled husband at home every day must be driving you insane, huh!" The blood drained from my face.

Another guy chimed in, "Seriously. Delaney is way too damn controlling.

I wouldn't want to live with a bitch like that either!" "How much longer are you going to keep up the mute act, Dec?

It's been four years." I had actually worried about his fragile stomach and rushed over with hangover pills in my purse. What a joke.

I stared coldly through the crack at his smug face, a wave of nausea churning in my gut. I didn't shed a single tear.

Without a second thought, I tossed the bottle of hangover pills straight into the trash can beside me.

Inside the booth, Declan—the man who was supposed to be mute—spoke with a chilling, callous drawl. "I'm not playing mute.

I just find everything about her disgusting." He let out a sharp scoff. "She's so pathetic. Four years, and she never once realized I was faking it." "Yeah, man.

You recovered from that crash in a month, and Delaney was clueless." "If it wasn't for Daphne… you wouldn't have had to settle for her." "Hey, it's Dec's birthday!

Let's drop the Delaney talk!" Declan's expression darkened. He lifted his scotch and downed it in one brutal swallow. Funny.

Even from this distance, through that narrow slit, I could see the bloodshot rim of his eyes. It was hilarious.

For four entire years, I legitimately thought the trauma had robbed him of his voice forever. I hadn't cared. So what if he couldn't speak? I could. So I filled the silence.

I talked to him every single day, trying to pull a smile out of him.

I recounted my days, cooked organic meals from scratch to rebuild his health, poured every ounce of my energy into him.

I thought I could eventually carve out a tiny space in his heart. Four years of that. You'd think even a stone would have warmed up by now.

There was only one name I never dared to mention. Daphne. His untouchable first love. She was the actual owner of this very bar. And the one ghost I could never beat.

I let go of the door handle. It clicked shut, instantly severing the noise. The mocking laughter vanished.

I pulled out my phone and quickly typed out a text. [Declan, I want a divorce.] My ultimate birthday gift to him was a set of divorce papers.

I didn't demand a single cent of his money, only the deed to the mansion we had lived in for the past four years. It was in this exact moment that clarity hit me.

You can never win against a dead woman. Not then. Not ever. Chapter 2 A blinding wash of headlights swallowed me whole. The massive grill of a semitruck rushed toward my face.

Somewhere behind me, a voice I barely recognized screamed my name. "Delaney!" Then, my eyes snapped open. I was back five years in the past. None of the nightmare had happened yet.

Daphne was still breathing. Declan and I hadn't exchanged a single vow. A fierce, electric shock of pure adrenaline rushed through my veins. I was fresh out of college.

Declan's family had just taken a massive financial hit, and his precious first love had skipped the country.

In my past life, I handed in my resignation at a toptier firm without blinking, all to help him build his pathetic startup from the ground up.

The stress and garbage diet wrecked his stomach. I spent hours prepping organic meals for him. During highstakes client dinners, I took the shots.

I drank those greedy corporate sharks under the table so Declan wouldn't have to ruin his fragile stomach.

There was a night when I was throwing up my guts in the bathroom, and for once, he didn't look at me with disgust.

He handed me a glass of water, his voice actually quiet. "Delaney, is this worth it?" Even wasted, I was hopelessly in love. I smiled like an idiot. "Totally worth it.

You're my favorite person, Dec." But that fleeting moment of gratitude stood no chance against the years, or against the ghost of Daphne.

I eventually learned the hard way that he wasn't worth a single drop of my sweat. This time around, I wasn't throwing my career in the trash for him. My phone vibrated in my palm.

Declan. "Did your resignation go through yet?" he asked, his voice laced with exhaustion. I stared at the crisp white envelope in my hand.

If I hadn't opened my eyes from that crash, I would be walking right into the VP's office to hand this over.

I would have ignored all the counteroffers and walked into Declan's sinking ship of a startup. Then, Daphne would get mugged and killed overseas.

Declan would shut down and play the tragic mute. And I would practically beg him to marry me. I let out a dry laugh. "Declan, I actually just texted Daphne about your little crisis.

She said she's booking a flight back. You can let her keep you company from now on." Dead silence on his end.

I could practically see the confused scowl forming on his face. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" he demanded.

I gripped the phone tighter, my voice razorsharp. "It means someone else can play your little savior. I'm keeping my Fortune 500 job." "You—" I hit end call.

The crushing weight that had been sitting on my chest for years instantly evaporated. "Love the job that much, huh?" a deep, familiar voice suddenly drawled from behind me.

I spun around and locked eyes with Harrison. A faint, amused smirk played on his lips. Memories hit me like a freight train.

In my past life, plenty of people kicked me when I was down. Plenty of people laughed at Declan and me.

But that one time I drank myself into a bleeding ulcer and still couldn't close a massive deal? Harrison was the one who pulled the strings. I didn't find out until way later.

The client had originally planned to sign exclusively with Harrison's firm. He was the one who casually stepped aside and nudged the contract into my lap.

I died before I ever got the chance to thank him. I took a deep breath, stepped right up to him, and locked onto his eyes. I held out my hand. "Harrison, I owe you a massive favor.

Thank you for being so generous back then." Harrison stared at my outstretched hand for a second before shaking it. "I have zero idea what you're thanking me for, but you can save the intense formalities for my funeral." I went deadpan.

No wonder this guy stayed single right up until the day I died. Chapter 3 I had been hopelessly hooked on Declan since college.

Back then, his obsession with Daphne was the biggest piece of gossip on campus. People practically ran anonymous forums just to track their relationship drama.

Too bad they never actually made it official. I was stupid enough to think that meant I had a shot. Even after graduation, I shadowed him like a pathetic puppy.

Every time his frat bros saw me, the jokes started rolling. "Oh look, Dec's little shadow is back." "Shame she's not half as hot as Daphne." "Why didn't you just bring Daphne tonight?" They never saw me as a real person.

I was just the punchline to their private jokes. Whenever I got pissed, Declan would just pinch the bridge of his nose. "Stop being so dramatic, Delaney.

They don't mean anything by it." Some people can be geniuses in life but go braindead when they catch feelings. I let him stomp all over my boundaries, over and over again.

But that was dead and buried. Sticking with my job at Harrison's firm, I figured Declan’s massive ego wouldn't let him crawl back to me. I was wrong.

As I walked out of the lobby that evening, a familiar sleek car swerved and slammed its brakes right in front of me, the bumper stopping inches from my knees.

The window rolled down. He was still wearing the expensive suit I had ironed for him that morning, but now, that elite armor just looked incredibly pathetic to me.

His brows pulled together in that classic, irritated scowl. "Delaney, what the hell kind of tantrum are you throwing? So you're just trashing the resignation plan?

All that talk about loving me, about helping me build my company—was that just a joke?" I flashed him a blindingly bright smile. "Yeah, pretty much. Sue me.

I’d have to be clinically insane to ditch a massive corporate offer to go play startup with you." Declan froze. He stared at me, failing to process this new version of me.

A few seconds later, he let out a dry scoff. "Playing hard to get really isn't your look, Delaney." A large, distinctly masculine hand suddenly slid around my waist, pulling me possessively against a solid chest.

A cool, steady voice rumbled right above my head. "When we get married, make sure you bring that 'hard to get' attitude as your wedding gift." It was Harrison.

Declan didn't recognize him. He stared at the hand resting on my waist, his eyes instantly flashing with defensive jealousy. "Delaney, who the hell is this guy