Just before I hit the ground in that other life, I had called Vivienne. I never got the words out.
“Mr. Harry, don’t worry,” she said. “I’ll take care of everything.”
That was when I realized—Vivienne had also been reborn.
She wasn’t a “vixen” at all, but a poor student I had sponsored for years. She’d grown into a principled, capable woman—and a successful lawyer. In our past lives, she had been dragged into my scandal and bullied online because of me. I doubted her ending was any better than mine.
This time, I gave her everything I knew, hoping she could uncover the truth. I didn’t go back to the hospital—I went straight to her law firm and laid it all out. Her boyfriend joined forces with the police to start an investigation.
Not long after, my phone buzzed. My son’s name flashed on the screen. I didn’t answer. A text followed: My business failed. Please sell the house to help me. I ignored it.
That afternoon, my daughter and her husband stormed into the law firm.
“Vivienne, don’t call me sister,” my daughter snapped, shoving her away. “You’re just a poor scholarship student! Stop hanging around my dad.”
She turned to me, glaring. “Dad, why are you running all over the place instead of taking care of Mom in the hospital?”
She had always believed Vivienne was after my money, never knowing that Vivienne had never asked for a single cent—only brought gifts to our home every month, even asking my opinion before dating her boyfriend.
My son-in-law grabbed my arm. “Your grandson’s been in a car accident. He needs to go abroad for treatment—at least three million. Let’s mortgage the house.”
“Let go.” I pulled free. “The house was mortgaged behind my back. I’m here to ask Vivienne to investigate.”
“What?” My daughter’s voice rose. “Dad, you’re heartless! You’d rather let your grandson die than help?”
My son-in-law piled on, his voice cracking. “He’s twelve! How can you just watch him suffer? And that house—you owe us a share.”
They shouted loud enough to draw the attention of everyone in the office.
“When have I ever refused to help you?” I clenched my fists. “But now the house is mortgaged, my bank account is empty, and the bank claims I’ve been paying a thirty-year loan I knew nothing about. I can’t even afford your mother’s medical bills.”