My Best Friend Stole My Husband, So I Rewrote My Fate

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My best friend was a self-proclaimed loyalty tester.

She said she was afraid I'd get hurt by cheaters, so every time I started dating someone new, she'd transform herself into his ideal type and pursue him relentlessly until she lured him into bed.

Every single time, she'd send me photos of them together:

"Bestie! If it weren't for me protecting you, you'd have been fooled by another scumbag! Aren't I good to you?"

It drove me to the brink of a breakdown. I cut her off completely and moved to another city.

Then I met the love of my lifeClay Vance.

On the day of our wedding reception, I came face to face with my so-called best friend, disguised as a makeup artist.

"Bestie! Let me finish testing him before you tie the knot!"

She drugged me unconscious, put on my wedding dress, and crawled into Clay's bed.

I woke up just in time. I brought people with me, burst into the bridal suite, and had her hauled off to prison.

Later, I got pregnant. During delivery, I hemorrhaged.

Clay watched me writhing in agony and refused to sign the consent form to save me.

"Roberta just wanted to give herself to me before the weddingto fulfill a wish!"

"But you threw her in prison and drove her to suicide! When she died, she was carrying my child!"

"You and that bastard in your belly should pay for her life!"

Only then did I realize that the man I thought was the love of my life had fallen for my best friend long ago.

I died an unjust death. He didn't even spare my asheshe dumped them in a gutter.

Then I opened my eyes again.

I was back on the day my best friend showed up at my wedding, disguised as a makeup artist.

When my eyes focused, I saw Roberta Harding's face againthat familiar, stunning face.

Just like in my previous life, she pointed at me and howled with laughter.

The people around us had their phones out, cameras shoved in my face, snapping photos.

I didn't need to guess what they were laughing at.

I looked calmly into the mirror.

Sure enough, stamped across my face in blue ink were the words "GRADE-A INSPECTED MEAT"exactly like last time.

"What's going on? What happened? What's so funny?"

The door swung open, and Clay Vance strolled in wearing his suit, a smile playing across his handsome features.

Roberta giggled and bounced over to him, grabbing his wrist.

"Mr. Vance, I set up a little pre-wedding prank for you two. What do you thinkfunny, right?"

Her foot slipped. She let out a soft gasp, as though she'd lost her balance, and tumbled right into Clay's arms.

She looked up at him, her cheeks flushed pink.

"Sorry."

That was her favorite little seduction trick. I'd seen it more times than I could count.

In my previous life, the moment I opened my eyes and saw Roberta standing over me like a nightmare come to lifesaw my long-awaited bridal makeup ruined beyond repairwatched her flirt and pull the same old moves to seduce my husband

My fear and rage had come crashing down like a flood.

I'd screamed and lunged at her, ripped her away from him, and slapped her across the face.

I'd shrieked: "Get out! You're trying to seduce my boyfriend again, aren't you? I won't let you get away with it!"

Clay had immediately called the bridesmaids over to hold me down.

Roberta had cowered in the corner, face red, eyes brimming with pitiful tears:

"I didn't do anything. Mrs. Vance, you've misunderstood. This was just a pre-wedding prank."

No matter how I tried to explainthat she was a loyalty tester, that she'd seduced boyfriend after boyfriend, that she'd destroyed relationship after relationship

Roberta just stood there, trembling and crying:

"I really didn't! I don't even know you. I'm just a makeup artist."

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I'll get on my knees and apologize if you want. Please stop making up stories about me"

Everyone had whispered among themselves:

"A loyalty tester? She reads too many novels. People like that don't exist."

"She's probably been the jealous wife for so long she thinks every woman is after her husband. Tsk, tsk, tsk. How embarrassing..."

My protests had grown feeble against the tide of sneering and mockery from the guests, and under Clay's weary gaze.

He sighed, resigned, and walked over to wrap me in a gentle embrace.

"It's okay. If you don't like her, we'll fire her. How about that?"

"But you should've just told me directly, instead of making up rumors about the poor girl..."

I'd thought he was simply like the rest of the guests, fooled by Roberta's lies and her act.

It wasn't until the moment I died that I finally understood.

His heart had already shifted toward Roberta.

...

This time, I watched expressionlessly as Roberta threw herself into Clay's arms.

I didn't miss the flicker of desire that passed through his eyes.

But a second later, he shot a quick glance my way.

He pushed the woman in his arms back, his face turning cold. "That joke wasn't funny. Apologize to my wife right now, and take that stain off so you can redo her makeup."

"No need."

My voice was calm.

I picked up a makeup wipe and began cleaning the marks from my face.

Clay let out a breath of relief and patted Roberta gently on the head. "Hurry up and thank my wife. If she weren't so kind and forgiving, you'd be in real trouble"

I cut him off.

"Clay, there's no need to redo the makeup. The wedding is off."

He stared at me in disbelief. After a long pause, he let out a short laugh. "That's not funny."

"It's not a joke."

I reached back and unzipped the wedding dressthe one Clay had pulled God knows how many strings to have flown in from overseas. I stripped it off and tossed it aside like it was garbage.

"The wedding is canceled. We're done."

I pulled on my coat and headed for the door.

"Lydia!"

Only then did Clay realize I was serious. He grabbed my wrist, veins bulging at his temples from the effort of keeping his composure.

"You're calling off the wedding over a makeup artist's prank?"

He looked at me, those handsome eyes brimming with hurt and confusion. "Lydia, stop this!"

"This weddingdo you have any idea how much we put into it? Our friends and family are all here. You can't just"

I wrenched my wrist free. I ignored the whispers and pointed fingers around me and fixed him with a cold, mocking stare.

"Clay, you know exactly why I won't marry you."

"I'm giving you a chance to be with the person you actually love. Isn't that a good thing?"

I expected to see panic flash across his face.

Instead, his expression didn't waver. He looked at me with that same wounded confusion. "Lydia, what are you talking about? Everyone knows you're the only one I love."

He pointed at Roberta. "Is this about her?"

His tone turned helpless. "I had no idea she was going to pull that stunt."

"Besides, didn't I already say I'd make her apologize? If that's still not enough, I'll fire her on the spot."

Roberta burst into tears, sobs wracking her shoulders, and turned to run.

Clay didn't spare her a single glance. His dark eyes locked onto mine, deep and unwavering. "Are we good now?"

I looked back at him, my gaze flat. I said nothing.

Clay's parents walked in, their voices already laced with reproach.

"He's already apologized, Lydia. Playing hard to get at this point is just petty."

"Do you have any idea how good Clay has been to you? Have you forgotten who performed your mother's surgery? Who arranged her follow-up care? A person shouldn't bite the hand that feeds them."

A sharp pain lanced through my chest.

My mother's stroke had been Roberta's doing. She'd deliberately played those bedroom photos at my wedding to my ex, broadcasting them for every guest to see. Then she'd eloped with him right there, leaving me as the punchline of the entire reception. The shock and fury sent my mother collapsing, unconscious.

To get her the treatment she needed, I'd transferred her from hospital to hospital until we ended up in Havenport, where I met Clay, a renowned neurosurgeon. Over the course of my mother's treatment, we'd gradually fallen in love.

I understood the threat buried in Julia's words. The Vances were a prominent family. If I ruined this wedding and embarrassed them, my mother would be thrown out of Vance Hospital.

"Mom!"

Clay cut Julia off, his tone measured but firm. "Lydia is my wife. Her mother is my mother-in-law. Taking care of her is my responsibility."

He turned to me, his voice softening into something close to a plea. "Sweetheart, if nothing else, at least for the sake of everything I've done for your mother, can we not make a scene today? Please?"

I dug my nails into my palms and let my expression crumple into something wounded and fragile.

"Clay, do you really not know that makeup artist? Because she whispered to me just now that you told her to make me look ugly on purpose, to get back at me for something. That's why I got upset."

The moment the words left my mouth, the guests who had been looking at me with disapproval shifted. Sympathy replaced their irritation.

A muscle twitched at the corner of Clay's mouth. Then he smoothed it over with a reassuring smile. "She was talking nonsense. Just jealous that you married well."

When I didn't respond, he sighed and relented. "I'll file a complaint against her right now. Would that make you feel better?"

Only then did I let myself smile. "Then you have to swear."

"If you really have anything to do with her, if you ever betray me, we divorce. No discussion."

Clay coaxed me gently, raised his right hand, and swore.

The guests laughed warmly. "You're overthinking it. Clay only has eyes for you."

Outside the banquet hall, Roberta's face flashed past the doorway, twisted with venom at having failed. I didn't spare her a glance.

The wedding ended.

I had just started toward my room to change out of the gown when someone pressed a cloth over my nose and mouth. I held my breath, closed my eyes, and let it happen.

Just like last time.

Roberta and Clay stumbled together, tangled in each other, and crashed through the door of a neighboring guest room. They fell onto the bed, unable to contain the sounds spilling between them.

My eyes snapped open. I moved fast, slipping downstairs to where my in-laws were still chatting with guests.

This time, I didn't do what I'd done before. I didn't blurt out that Roberta had drugged me and crawled into my husband's bed.

Instead, I put on a look of concern.

"Mom, Dad, I think Clay had too much to drink. He doesn't seem well."

Julia and Garry Vance, ever doting on their son, were on their feet in an instant. A swarm of Vance relatives, eager for any bit of excitement, followed close behind as I led them all upstairs.

The moment we reached the guest room door, the sounds from inside were unmistakable.

Every face in the crowd went rigid.

They rushed to block the door, to cover it up, but I was faster. I pushed it wide open.

"Clay? Are you feeling okay?"

The door swung back. The two figures tangled on the bed sprang apart, scrambling to yank the sheets over themselves.

Through the wall of stunned relatives, Roberta caught my eye and flashed me a triumphant smile.

The hallway erupted.

"Oh my God, that woman. Isn't that the makeup artist from this morning?"

"So Lydia was telling the truth the whole time. I can't believe..."

Garry's face turned a deep, furious red. "Clay! Look at what you've done!"

Julia charged past everyone and seized Roberta by the arm, dragging her off the bed. "This is all your doing! You little tramp, you must have slipped my son something. You made him think you were Lydia!"

"Son, that's what happened, right? We're calling the police! We'll throw this tramp in jail!"

The moment those words left his mother's mouth, Roberta's bravado crumbled. Her eyes welled with tears, and she shrank into Clay's arms.

"Enough!"

Clay roared, shielding Roberta with his entire body.

He lifted his head and looked at me through the crowd.

His eyes were dark, impenetrable. Not a flicker of panic. Not a trace of guilt.

"Lydia, let's talk."

The Vance parents cleared everyone out of the room.

Only the three of us remained.

I didn't think there was anything left to say.

All I could think about was why, in this life, I hadn't sent Roberta to prison, hadn't let her rot behind bars. And yet he could still face me like this without an ounce of remorse.

I couldn't tell if what I felt was bitterness or hatred.

I pulled off my wedding ring and tossed it into the trash can.

My voice was flat.

"You made a vow. If you lied to me, we divorce."

"Clay, I'll have the divorce papers drawn up as soon as possible."

"Lydia!"

Clay's voice stopped me from behind.

"I'm not divorcing you."

I spun around, and for the first time, I looked at him with pure hatred.

"Then I'll file for divorce in court!"

"Go ahead and try."

Clay's face was half-swallowed by the dim light, his features blurred and unreadable.

"If you dare file for divorce, I'll cut off your mother's treatment immediately."

"I guarantee that no hospital in this cityno, in the entire countrywill take her."

"Clay Vance!"

I clenched my jaw. My whole body trembled uncontrollably.

I must have looked utterly pathetic and powerless, because I saw Roberta break into a gleeful smile.

"Why are you doing this to me?"

"If you love her, just divorce me! You two can be together out in the open! Why do you have to drag me into this?"

I looked at Clay through my tears.

"I already stepped aside for you. I've never done a single thing to wrong you! Why won't you just let me go?"

Clay's voice was cold and detached.

"You haven't wronged me. But you've wronged Roberta."

My eyes went wide.

"When did I ever"

Clay let out a scornful laugh.

"Every single boyfriend Roberta ever haddidn't you steal them all?"

"You, hiding behind that so-called 'loyalty tester' act, seduced every one of Roberta's boyfriends, slept with them, pushed her into depression until she nearly killed herself!"

"You stole so many of her lovers. It's about time you found out what it feels like to have your own man taken from you."

"And your mother! Do you dare tell everyone what actually caused her brain hemorrhage?"

"Your mother tried to help you steal a man. She showed up at Roberta's wedding and made a scene, and people cursed her until she collapsed. Your mother's lying there half-dead because she deserved it."

My head exploded. I lunged at them on pure instinct.

My palm cracked across Clay's face.

But when I raised my hand again, swinging at Roberta

Clay shoved me away.

"Enough! Even now, you're still bullying Roberta!"

I wiped my tears and ground out every word through clenched teeth.

"I never did any of that! None of it! Clay Vance! Roberta is the one who stole my boyfriends! She's the one who eloped with my ex at the wedding and sent my mother into a rage until she collapsed!"

"There were witnesses. Every chat log is still on my phone. You can check for yourself"

"Enough!"

Clay's palm cracked across my face, cutting me off mid-sentence.

His expression was murderous.

"Even now, you won't admit it. You won't repent."

"Lydia, I never knew you were this shameless. This heartless."

"You won't confess? Still lying?" His voice dropped to something dangerous. "Fine. Let's see just how stubborn you really are."

He stood, seized my arm, and dragged me toward the stairs.

"Clay! Let go of me!"

He ignored my struggling, hauled me down to the basement freezer, and shoved me inside. The lock clicked into place.

"Let me out! Clay!"

I slammed my fists against the door, over and over.

The only answer was his voice, cold and merciless, from the other side.

"You won't admit it? Then let's find out what gives first. Your life, or your pride."

"The moment you confess and get on your knees to apologize to Roberta, I'll let you out."

I pounded on the door until my hands went numb. No one came.

The cold seeped in fast.

I slid to the floor, helpless, my body temperature dropping by the second.

I didn't know how long I'd been in there when the door finally opened.

I looked up. Roberta rushed in, face full of concern, reaching down to help me to my feet.

"Sweetie, are you okay? Come on, let's get you out of here! We need to get you to a hospital!"

I stared at the sincerity painted across her face, and something inside me split apart.

"Roberta, why are you doing this to me?" My voice cracked, barely holding together. "What did I ever do to you? Why do you keep hurting me?"

If I had to choose who I hated more, it wasn't Clay. It was her.

We'd grown up together. We'd been best friends since childhood.

I was the one who stepped in front of her when that senior girl tried to slap her in school. Took the hit for her.

And she'd clung to my arm and sworn we'd be together forever.

Yet this was the same girl who, later, drove a knife into my heart again and again.

Roberta put on a wounded, aggrieved expression.

"I was just worried you'd been deceived by a terrible man. I only wanted to help you find a husband who truly loved you and trusted you."

"Look! If I hadn't tested him this time, you would've married a bad man. What if someday another woman came along and made up lies about you, just like I did? Then you'd"

I flung her hand off, sobbing so hard I could barely breathe.

"You weren't doing it for my sake! Every single time, all you've done is hurt me!"

Roberta blinked, her eyes wide and innocent.

"Okay, okay. You're right. It's my fault. Let's just get you to the hospital first."

She pulled me up by force. My legs could barely hold me. She pushed me into the car.

The car drove straight past the hospital. Straight toward a hotel.

I watched the road with growing alarm.

"What are you doing? Where are you taking me?"

She just smiled, something secretive curling at the corners of her mouth, and dragged my weakened body out of the car and into a room.

The door swung open. Inside stood a group of burly men, leering, their faces twisted with ugly intent.

Roberta let out a piercing scream, ripped her own clothes, smashed her own forehead against the doorframe until it bled, and bolted out of the room.

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry, Miss Sawyer! I won't fight you for him! I won't fight you for anything! Please stop hitting me!"

Every instinct in my body screamed danger. I forced myself upright, reaching for her, trying to grab hold of her.

Before I could steady myself, the door was kicked open.

Clay took in the scene. Me. The men behind me.

His eyes went red.

His hand whipped across my face.

"Lydia! Do you have a death wish?!"

"Not only do you refuse to repent, now you're trying to destroy Roberta?! You'd go this far to ruin her?! How can you be this vicious?!"

"I didn't!"

I bit down on my lip and screamed.

"It was Roberta who opened the freezer and brought me here!"

"Enough!" Clay's voice was a whip crack. "I'm the only one who knows the passcode to that freezer. There's no way Roberta could have opened it. You obviously unlocked it yourself and dragged her in here!"

He ground his teeth, his eyes savage.

"Fine. Threatening your life won't make you bend. Let's see if your mother's life does the trick."

My eyes went wide. "What are you going to do?!"

Clay turned to his men without hesitation. "Have Lydia's mother removed from the hospital immediately. No one touches her case."

"No!"

I threw myself at his feet, sobbing. "I'll apologize! You want me to apologize to Roberta? I'll do it! Just don't touch my mother!"

"Too late."

His voice was ice.

"When Roberta wakes up and decides to forgive you, that's when I'll decide whether your mother lives or dies."

I looked at Roberta, still cradled in his arms, and caught her snapping her eyes shut the instant my gaze landed on her. Faking unconsciousness.

A wail of despair tore out of me.

"I'm begging you, Clay. Do whatever you want to me. Anything. Just leave my mother alone."

"Roberta, I'll give you whatever you want! Just let us go!"

The only answer was Clay's back as he walked away, his voice carrying behind him like a verdict.

"Watch her. Make her kneel. If she tries to stand, break her legs."

One hour. Two hours.

I knelt there, crying, praying that Roberta would show a shred of mercy and wake up to stop Clay.

What I got instead was a phone call. Assistant Miller's voice, flat and clinical:

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Vance. Your mother passed away. Since you weren't present to sign for the body, we've already sent it to the crematorium."

"No!"

The scream ripped from my throat, and I doubled over, retching up mouthfuls of blood.

The bodyguard's phone buzzed. He read the message, then hauled me off the floor.

"Mr. Vance is hosting a birthday party for Miss Harding tonight. You're to clean yourself up and go to the venue. You'll kneel and apologize in front of everyone. That's your gift to the birthday girl."

I moved like a corpse. I followed them to the car, rode home in silence, walked into the bedroom, and began getting ready.

They waited outside the door.

Minutes passed. Then more minutes.

I never came out.

They kicked the bedroom door open and found the room empty.

The only thing left was a beautifully wrapped gift box sitting on the bed.

...

Clay wore a smile as he watched Roberta blow out her candles and slice into the cake with that sweet, guileless grin of hers.

But irritation gnawed at him.

Lydia still hadn't shown up.

He'd pushed her hard enough. All he'd wanted was for her to apologize to Roberta, to put an end to the wrongs she'd committed. Was that really so much to ask?

His agitation was climbing when a bodyguard hurried into the room.

Clay's eyes lit up, scanning the doorway behind the man. When he didn't see Lydia, the light died.

"Where is she?"

The bodyguards were drenched in cold sweat. One of them held out the gift box with trembling hands. "This is from Mrs. Vance. She asked you to open it."