Chapter 163 The Morning After

Last night, I, a man who had experienced both life and death, felt unusually calm. Lying in bed, I silently swore that the moment I opened my eyes, I'd make her pay and tear her apart for everything she'd done to me. I tried to reason with her, to put an end to this tangled mess of fate between us. But it was like she was possessed, determined to drag me into the fire with her. It was as if she wouldn't rest until she had taken her pound of flesh from me. But after that harrowing nightmare, I found myself letting go again. Could it really get any worse than my last life? The haunting image of Lila's tragic death was still fresh in my mind—how Zachary had driven her off the bridge, leaving nothing behind, not even a trace of her body. What I owed Lila, I'd never be able to repay, not in this life or the next. In order to save Lila, I'd gritted my teeth and agreed to Yvette's ridiculous terms—to get back together. Her demand was to sleep with me, and since I had given my word, I couldn't back out. If I showed too much resistance, it would only seem like I was still stuck in the past, unable to move on. Besides, she was still chasing after Randall. If she truly crossed the line with me, it'd only be her loss in the end. Yvette clearly hadn't expected my calm reaction. Her beautiful face darkened, and her voice dripped with mockery. "I slept with you, and you're not even angry? Has your love for Lila reached the point where you're willing to sacrifice everything for her?" Without hesitation, I shook my head, my eyes steady and unwavering. "No. It's just because you're not worth it." If it weren't for Lila, the moment she dared to lay a hand on me, she'd have been left with no place to bury herself. But since it had come to this, I figured we might as well keep things straightforward. A transaction—each taking what they wanted. No strings attached. Yvette's expression faltered, her face turning even colder. Her hands, hanging by her sides, clenched into fists as she let out a bitter laugh. "If you really don't care that much, then why were you about to hit me just now?" The mention of that made my blood boil. "Have you seen other girlfriends? They're all sweet and gentle! But you? Look at my body! Is there a single spot you didn't scratch up? Can't you trim your damn nails, Ms. Yvette?" Her face darkened instantly, her gaze cold and piercing. "What did you just say?" I shot her a disdainful look. "Am I wrong?" Yvette's laugh was icy, devoid of any warmth. She leaned in suddenly, wrapping her arm around my waist, forcing me to meet her gaze. "Maybe it's because you're so inexperienced that you hurt me first. A little scratching and you're already whining?" "Talk if you want, but don't touch me!" I shoved her hand away, my face full of disgust. But the memories of last night still lingered, and my body ached all over. Somehow, the pain felt even worse than it did in my past life. My face turned pale as paper. But then, something struck me. She had been surprisingly restrained this time. The first time, she'd nearly shredded my back, but last night was different. I remembered what she said before everything happened, and my face froze, a tremor running through me. "Yvette, were you serious about what you said last night? Was the person in your dream really me?" I frowned, my voice uneasy. Last night, my head had been a mess, and I hadn't given it much thought. But now, her dream replayed in my mind—how she had envisioned me as the groom, only for me to die young. When I did the math, my "expiration date" was less than a year away. Her dream lined up a little too well with my past life. Was this some kind of divine joke, giving her a second chance to do things differently? Yvette's eyes flickered, and after a brief hesitation, she changed her story. "Of course not. That was just an excuse to sleep with you." I asked, "What?" What the hell was I supposed to say to that? For a moment, I'd thought she might be reliving her life too. But then it hit me. Her version didn't match up at all. In her dream, I was the one who wronged her. But in reality, it was she who owed me. Not that it mattered. Whether Yvette was reborn or not had nothing to do with me. Her heart wasn't mine anyway. If she truly was reborn, it might even speed up her pursuit of Randall, which would only get her out of my life faster. Honestly, I should be hoping for it. The sooner she gave up on me, the sooner she could go back to being tormented by Randall. But the more I thought about it, the more something felt off. If Yvette had really been reborn, and the version of her from my past life—the one who clung to me relentlessly and tormented me to the brink of death—came back, that would truly be the end of me. Especially now that we'd slept together. Just thinking about it made my blood boil. She should stay in the past. No need to come back and ruin things any further. "I'm getting dressed," I said, pushing her away and slamming the door shut. I grabbed some simple clothes and slipped them on, gritting my teeth as pain shot through me with every movement. But I didn't make a sound. When I opened the door, Yvette was still standing there, lost in thought, her gaze unfocused. I didn't acknowledge her and casually made my way downstairs, pretending nothing had happened. Last night, Yvette hadn't stepped on my injured foot, but today, it felt completely wrecked—like it was useless now. Strangely enough, the pain felt even worse than it did in my previous life. What's going on? Yvette reached out to help me, and I jumped back, nearly falling down the stairs. "Stay away from me! Don't touch me again." Yvette's face twitched, and then she let out a bitter laugh. Without saying a word, she grabbed my arm and dragged me downstairs. "Stop whining." I didn't bother resisting. My voice was hoarse as I muttered, "Just because we're even now doesn't mean I don't find you unbearable. In my eyes, you're no different from a toxic woman. You've slept with me, and I didn't say a word, but you can go to the office now." Yvette acted like she didn't hear me and helped me over to the couch. "Do you want some water?" she asked casually. My mood shifted quickly, my expression softening. "Sure. I'd like a glass of water."