Chapter 2

Then he pulled a letter out from inside his shirt.

"This is a love poem Melissa wrote for me, in her own hand."

Maxwell unfolded the envelope, and my face froze.

The poem was mine, all right. My signature was even at the bottom. But it hadn't been written for him. How did he have it?

Seeing my expression, the corner of his mouth curled with satisfaction. "You believe me now, don't you? Melissa seduced me. I'll tell you all right now, we've been together plenty of times already."

Some of my coworkers were here, and when they saw the handwriting, they froze too.

"Missy, this really is your handwriting on the letter. Is there actually something between you and him?"

The moment those words were out, even the people who'd been on my side started to look doubtful.

"Maxwell's got it all down to the last detail, and he's got proof. Doesn't look fake to me."

"Maybe Melissa really is two-faced, engaged to someone and still tangled up with this Maxwell."

Seeing the crowd swing to his side, Maxwell grew more smug by the second. He grabbed my arm, gloating. "You can admit it now."

"It's all out in the open anyway, so let's go register the marriage."

Memories of my last life came flooding back. Back then, for the sake of my reputation, I gave in and registered the marriage with him.

Because my name was ruined, the university recommendation slot that should have been mine went to someone else.

After the wedding he moved into my home, quit even his temporary job, and lived off me every day, eating and drinking on my dime. The moment my pay came in, he'd snatch it to spend on liquor and meals.

Later I couldn't hold back and fought with him, and all it earned me was a savage beating.

He beat three pregnancies out of me, one after another. I lost all hope in living, and in the end I jumped from the building and ended my own life.

I flung his hand off in disgust. "What are you talking about? Yes, I wrote this letter, but it was never written for you."

Maxwell sneered. "Not for me? Then how did it end up on me? I think you've just been caught, and now you don't dare own up to what you really are."

"But it doesn't matter whether you admit it. Everyone here has eyes, everyone can see the handwriting is yours, and the letter's in my hand. If you didn't give it to me, where could it have come from?"

Timothy grabbed his broom and started whacking him with it. "Missy's lived alongside us for years now. I don't believe she's that kind of girl, no matter what. I say you stole that letter."

Struck by the broom, Maxwell went red with fury and jabbed a finger at Timothy, sneering.

"Melissa, I didn't know you had this in you. Even an old man this ancient, and you found a way to get him talking for you."

"I wonder if you've got something going with him too."

Timothy's face went gray with rage. Shaking with shame and anger, he pointed at Maxwell for a long moment before he could force out a few words. "You liar..."

I stepped forward and looked Maxwell dead in the eye. "You say I wrote this letter for you. Then tell me, when did I write it? And when did I hand it to you?"

His eyes darted to the side. "Of course I remember that. You wrote it for me back when you and I were together."

"When!"

"Last month, I think. That day, right in your room, you gave it to me yourself. You even told me not to forget you."

I sneered and pointed at the letter.

"You're lying."

"The first line of this letter is, The crabapple by the door has finally bloomed."

"So what?"

I sneered, shaking my head at this ignorant man. "Crabapples bloom in April. That means this letter was written in April. It's August now."

"If I really wrote it for you, how could you get the date so wrong?"

A flicker of guilt crossed his eyes. "That... so I misremembered, is that a crime?"

I opened my mouth, about to speak again, when my fiancé Jasper Simmons suddenly came charging in from across the way, furious, and slapped me across the face.

"Melissa, look at what you've done."