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The crystal chandeliers of the Grand Ballroom reflected in the champagne, but the light felt cold. My husband, Mark, was across the room, his eyes fixed on Lily, the young intern who had become his entire world. I walked towards them, the whispers of the crowd following me. He handed me a pre-prepared divorce settlement. "I\'m going to marry Lily," he said, loud enough for those nearby to hear. Then, with a cruel twist of his lips, he added, "Consider our partnership terminated. Effective immediately." In the weeks that followed, Mark systematically dismantled my family' s business. He orchestrated a public scandal, leaking fabricated documents that implicated my father in fraud. My father had a heart attack. My mother aged a decade overnight. I sat by my father' s hospital bed, watching the news report on Mark and Lily' s engagement. That' s when I truly broke. Then, a blinding flash of light. A gut-wrenching pull. I gasped, my eyes flying open. The date on my phone was October 12th. The day I found Lily' s photo on his computer. The day the nightmare began. I was back. The memory of my parents' ruined faces, of my father in that hospital bed, was burned into my mind. It was not a dream. It was a warning. I had a second chance. Not for revenge. Not to win him back. For survival.