Chapter 1

The living room brimmed with expensive gifts after my daughter Ivy's one-month celebration.

I stood there, dazed, holding her tiny body close as I took in the sea of lavish presents surrounding us.

"Bring it over and put it here!"

The sharp voice cut through the air like nails on a chalkboard.

I turned and saw Marissa, my husband Caleb's childhood sweetheart, waddling in with her swollen belly, directing two workers who were struggling to carry a large religious cross.

At first glance, the cross seemed holy—serene, even—but the longer I looked, the more a sense of unease crept over me.

There was something deeply wrong, something almost malicious about it.

"What are you doing?"

I demanded, my voice trembling with anger and disbelief.

Without waiting for an answer, I rushed forward and shoved the heavy cross to the floor.

It landed with a loud crash, smashing down onto Marissa's foot.

"Ahh!" she shrieked, doubling over in tears, her face twisted in pain.

"Lydia, what is wrong with you?"

Caleb roared, storming toward me as he scooped up the fallen cross, cradling it as though I'd just desecrated something sacred.

"This cross is a gift from Marissa!" he snapped.

"She spent weeks fasting and praying at the Hillcreek chapel just to get it blessed. How could you be so ungrateful?"

Ungrateful?

Me?

I clutched Ivy closer, my anger bubbling beneath the surface as my gaze darted between Caleb and Marissa.

In my last life, this very day had marked the beginning of the end.

That cross had been brought into my home by Marissa.

I'd been so naive, so trusting, believing her when she said it was a blessing.

I had placed it at the heart of our living room, praying to it every day for Ivy's health and protection.

Ivy had been born premature, and I was desperate to do anything to make her stronger.

But instead of helping her, the cross had sapped her strength.

Her condition worsened day by day.

Doctors couldn't explain it. Tests showed nothing.

I threw myself into taking care of Ivy, leaving Caleb to manage the family business.

But no matter what I did, Ivy grew weaker.

She didn't even make it to her 100th day.

Her tiny body withered away to skin and bones before finally succumbing to organ failure.

And on that very same day, Marissa gave birth to a healthy, bouncing baby boy.

While I was cradling my daughter's lifeless body, Caleb wasn't by my side.

He was at the hospital, holding Marissa's hand, welcoming their son into the world.

When I called Caleb, sobbing uncontrollably, to tell him Ivy was gone, his response was cold and cutting.

"You couldn't even keep our child alive," he spat.

"You're pathetic."

And as if that wasn't enough, he refused to let Ivy be buried in the family plot.

"She ruined the family's luck," he said, as if her death had been an inconvenience.

He told me to take her somewhere else, to dispose of her like she was nothing.

The loss of my child, Caleb's cruelty, and Marissa's betrayal shattered me.

I spiraled into a deep, unrelenting depression.

At the time, I thought it was just life being unfair, the universe dealing me a cruel hand.

I couldn't have been more wrong.

On my deathbed, the truth finally came to light.

Marissa had used that cross to drain Ivy's life force.

She needed it to save her own unborn child.

Caleb and Marissa had been lovers all along, but Caleb's mother had disapproved of Marissa because of her poor family background.

That's why Caleb had married me instead—because I came with wealth and property, my parents' inheritance.

I thought I had married my soulmate.

In reality, I had married into a nightmare.

When Marissa became pregnant with Caleb's child, her health issues made it impossible for her to carry to term.

Desperate to save her baby, she turned to the cross and its cursed ritual—trading Ivy's life for her son's.

Her child survived. Ivy did not.

After my death, they took everything: my home, my business, even my dignity.

My ashes were never claimed, my memory discarded as they played house with their precious son.

But fate wasn't done with me yet.

Somehow, I woke up—back in my own body, back on this very day, the day Marissa brought that cursed cross into my home.

Chapter 2

"Lydia, this is a special gift for Ivy," Marissa cooed, her voice dripping with false sincerity.

She clasped her hands together, a picture of fake humility.

"It's from the Hillcreek chapel, a very spiritual place. It'll protect Ivy and help her grow strong and healthy."

I bit the inside of my cheek, forcing myself to stay calm.

Now wasn't the time to let them see my hand.

If I told Caleb and Marissa what I knew, they'd twist it to make me look crazy—or worse, dangerous.

No, I couldn't risk that. Not yet.

This time, I had to play the long game.

"Lydia," Caleb chimed in, his tone soft and cajoling.

"Ivy's so fragile because of the premature birth. This is Marissa's way of helping. Even if you don't believe in it, what's the harm in trying? It might work."

Without waiting for my reply, he placed the cross in the center of the room with exaggerated care.

Then, as if putting on a show, he lit three white candles in front of it.

I forced a tight smile.

"I was actually thinking of getting Ivy a charm for protection, but Marissa went above and beyond with this."

"Thank you, Marissa. I'll make sure it's treated with the care it deserves."

Relief washed over Marissa's face, her eyes lighting up.

"I'm so glad to hear that," she said earnestly.

"This cross is powerful. Caleb and I prayed at Hillcreek for three years, and after that, I conceived right away. It's truly a miracle!"

I smiled again, tightly this time.

Oh, I believed it had power—just not the kind she claimed.

That cross wasn't protecting anyone in my family.

It was feeding on us to save Marissa's child.

Not this time.

Not in this life.

This time, I wouldn't just protect Ivy.

I would make Caleb and Marissa pay for what they did to us.

Chapter 3

On the surveillance feed, I watched them hunched over the cross, working with meticulous care.

Typically, preparing a religious artifact involves placing items like prayer cards, anointing oils, or scripture fragments inside.

These small keepsakes are meant to serve as blessings that amplify its spiritual power.

I wasn't an expert, but I knew enough to recognize the process.

What they were doing, however, was anything but normal.

Caleb and Marissa carefully slid dark, charred objects into the hollow base of the cross.

Some oozed a thick, viscous liquid that looked disturbingly like blood.

They handled the objects as though they were toxic, their movements cautious and deliberate, making sure nothing touched their skin.

Every few seconds, they glanced nervously toward my bedroom door, checking to ensure I wasn't watching.

When they finished, their tension dissolved in an instant. Smirking, they high-fived each other like kids pulling off a prank.

Caleb wrapped his arms around Marissa, and she let out a playful laugh, pretending to push him away.

I sat in my bedroom, holding my newborn daughter Ivy in my arms, staring at the screen in disbelief.

They didn't even have the decency to hide their glee.

And then they crossed the final line.

Standing in my living room, mere feet from the cross meant to drain my daughter's life, they started kissing.

Boldly. Shamelessly.

The air left my lungs.

My grip on Ivy tightened, her tiny warmth anchoring me as rage consumed me.

My blood boiled, my vision blurred, and it took every ounce of restraint I had not to storm out there and rip them apart with my bare hands.

But no.

Not yet.

If I confronted them now, I would only give them what they wanted.

A divorce would set Caleb free to be with Marissa openly, and that wasn't justice.

It wasn't even close to punishment.

I needed to be smarter than that.

Reaching for my phone, I hit record.

I captured it all—every furtive glance, every sinister touch, every damning moment of their ritual.

When their celebration finally ended, Caleb started toward the bedroom.

I barely had time to pull myself together before he opened the door.

Pretending to be asleep, I cradled Ivy close, my breathing steady and even.

He hesitated for a moment before quietly retreating with Marissa.

The instant they left, I locked the door and turned my attention to the cross.

This house didn't have a functioning security system.

I'd wanted to upgrade it, but Caleb had always dismissed the idea, claiming it was a waste of money.

Now I understood the real reason—he needed the freedom to pull his stunts without leaving evidence behind.

Tonight, that oversight worked to my advantage.

Carefully, I opened the base of the cross.

My hands trembled as I pulled out a folded, yellowed piece of paper.

There it was—my daughter Ivy's details.

Damn it.

The same information I'd seen in my past life, the same truth I'd learned far too late.

This cursed cross wasn't just a symbol.

It was a weapon.

It was designed to drain the life force of the person named within, and it didn't stop there.

It siphoned energy from their blood relatives as well.

Because Ivy was my child, the cross had been pulling from me, too.

My depression in my past life?

Now I understood. It wasn't just grief. It was this.

Rage surged through me, hot and blinding.

But I forced it down.

I couldn't afford to lose control.

Not when I had the power to fight back.

I took a picture of the paper and sent it to my assistant with specific instructions: replicate it exactly, but change the details to Caleb's information.

If they wanted to play these games, then they could suffer the consequences themselves.

When the replacement arrived, I slipped it into the base of the cross and sealed it shut.

Then, I made a call to a private investigator to start compiling evidence of Caleb's affair with Marissa.

Everything was set.

Now, all I had to do was wait.

But waiting didn't mean doing nothing.

This time, I wouldn't squander the second chance I'd been given.

This time, I wouldn't let them win.

I glanced down at Ivy, fast asleep in my arms.

Her delicate features looked like a perfect reflection of mine—her tiny nose, her round cheeks, her little lips.

Even in sleep, her brow furrowed slightly, as though she could sense the weight of my emotions.

Flashes of her frail, wasted body from my past life overwhelmed me, the memory of her slow decline still sharp and excruciating.

Back then, she'd been reduced to a ghost of a child, like a starving kitten abandoned to die.

Tears rolled down my cheeks as I held her closer, pressing a kiss to her soft forehead.

Not this time.

This time, I would do everything in my power to save her.

The next day, I took Ivy to the best pediatric specialist in the city.

After a thorough examination, the doctor finally gave me the words I so desperately needed to hear: Ivy wasn't sick.

She was just a little undernourished.

With proper care and nutrition, she would grow up strong and healthy.

I released a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding, relief washing over me like a tidal wave.

For the first time in what felt like forever, my heart felt light.

My daughter was going to be okay.

As for Caleb and Marissa?

Their nightmare was just beginning.