Chapter 2

I had been so small-minded in my precious life. Now, I saw things clearer. I didn’t need to prove I was pretty or that I’d always be loved–what a stupid waste of time.

Luckily, I’d got looks to spare. The way people looked at me made that crystal clear. But beauty was just one thing I had going for me.

Last time around, I’d been stuck on all that nonsense–guys fawning over me, girls jealous as hell. But now, that whole mindset felt like a fragile bubble. One tiny touch, and it burst.

Now that I got a second shot at life, I knew being pretty should be just one card in my deck. Power, money, and respect were the real game-changers. Fairness wouldn’t just fall into my lap, and I needed the skills and brains to take on the world.

I already lived through that nightmare of a previous life. From now on, I was keeping it simple: no drama, no tears.

After staring at myself for what felt like forever, I stripped off my casual dress and headed into the bathroom.

In those five years of marriage, I’d been all about being the perfect wife. To keep Jared from worrying, I’d long since packed away–or straight-up tossed–all those revealing outfits. Every time I went shopping, I only looked for modest pieces that screamed “good girl.”

My body was still killer–with that classic married woman’s soft, smooth look. Even a simple fitted dress could showcase my killer curves. Why would I waste this perfect figure?

The sky was turning dark, and a sleek SUV rolled up to the gate.

I figured it was Warner, Jared’s driver, dropping off Yvonne. But nope–it was Jared himself. He opened the back door, and Yvonne dragged her backpack into the living room.

Spotting me on the couch, she hurled the backpack at me and yelled, “Mom, why didn’t you pick me up? You promised you’d be on time every day.”

Looking at my little girl–so young, yet so quick to fly off the handle–I knew I’d spoiled her rotten. She stared at me with that demanding look, like a princess ordering around her hardworking maid.

Jared stepped in, scowling. Barely thirty, he already had that CEO vibe. Dressed in a sharp suit, he looked like a total power player straight out of a romance novel.

I’d loved him so much I’d lost myself in my previous life. But now, he was just a lover of yesterday, totally dead to me.

“I never wanna talk to you again,” Yvonne shrieked at me. “You’re a terrible mom.”

I shot up and cornered her at the bottom of the stairs. I grabbed her collar, making sure she couldn’t bolt.

Yvonne thrashed, eyes wide, pure disbelief and fury blazing out like she could torch me with a look.

“Pick up your backpack,” I said, calm but hard.

“NO!” she yelled right back.

I lifted my hand. Yvonne squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for the hit.

“Victoria,” Jared called, his voice low.

I turned and locked eyes with him.

He hurried over, picked up the backpack, and led the fuming Yvonne upstairs.

The commotion brought Mom out of the kitchen. “What’s going on? Is that Yvonne crying?” she asked.

I walked over to her. “Yeah, I was just disciplining her. She was acting out.”

Mom looked disapproving. “She’s just a kid.”

“That’s why she needs to learn who’s in charge,” I said. My voice came out cold as ice. Mom gave me a few weird looks.

She must feel it strange. Yvonne had been my entire world, and I’d never even raised my voice to her. When she threw a tantrum, I’d spend hours trying to calm her down, usually giving in to whatever she wanted in the end.

But now, I was done being patient. Coddling an ungrateful kid was just a waste of my time. After all, she’d end up fawning over her stepmom instead of me.

Then I went to help Mom cook dinner. There was no live-in maid in the house; I’d always handled the cooking myself. Only a cleaning crew swept through every three days, and a lawn guy would swing by regularly to keep the yard in check.

I’d wanted to be a perfect wife–keep the house running like a well-oiled machine, so Jared’d see how hard I was trying. Maybe then, he’d say something good about me when he talked to other people.

“Mom, I’m heading to the housekeeping agency tomorrow,” I said while rinsing veggies.

Mom stirred a pan on the stove and gave me a puzzled look. “Why? Gonna replace the cleaner?”

“Nah. I’m planning to hire two full-time maids for our place,” I replied casually.

“Huh?” Mom’s eyes widened. “This house isn’t that much work. Cooking, laundry, picking up the kid–can’t you handle that?”

“Mom, I’m a wealthy man’s wife now. I’m done with cleaning floors.” I laughed, but my tone was serious. “Families like ours typically have three or four full-time housekeepers. Why should I break my back? I can afford it.”

“But…” Mom began, then quickly turned back to the stove as the food in the pan started to sizzle and nearly burn.

Mom and I whipped up five dishes and a soup. After setting the table, she nudged me. “Go call Jared and Yvonne. Dinner’s getting cold.”

I headed upstairs right away. In the kids’ room, I found Yvonne still crying, holding a small pair of scissors. She was cutting up photos of herself and me, shredding my pictures and leaving only hers intact.

“What are you doing?” I was shocked. Just a little scolding, and she was out here destroying our pictures–this kid was truly heartless.

“I don’t want you as my mom.” She glared up, fire in her eyes. “You’re so mean. You yelled at me.”

I looked down at her. Whatever little maternal warmth I had fizzled out. “Fine. If not me, then who?” I asked, my voice calm.

Fuming, Yvonne blurted out, “I want Tracy to be my mom. She’s so nice to me, not like you. You didn’t pick me up, lied, and even raised your voice at me. I hate you!”

I didn’t expect her to mention Tracy and wanted to dig deeper.

Just then, Jared’s stern voice came from outside the door. “Yvonne, stop talking nonsense.”

Spotting Jared, who had just gotten off his call, Yvonne dropped the scissors right away, darted into his arms, and clung to him, sniffling. “Dad, I don’t want her as my mom. She yelled at me.”

Jared’s gaze snapped to me. For a split second, his eyes went wide–shocked.

I knew why. I was wearing this tight lace minidress, the kind that shows off my back. My figure–slim, with skin tender as cream–was out there for anyone to see.