Fulfill Your Guilt

The second I was reborn, I signed the divorce papers without a moment's hesitation.
Terry Vance's mistress was all over the news. To save her from the homewrecker label, hed come to me with the papers, his voice pleading.
Leo died saving my life, he'd begged. Molly is his only sister. I can't just abandon her. You understand that, don't you?
Years ago, Terry had been targeted by a business rival. His cars brakes were cut. In the final, spinning moments of chaos, his best friend, Leo, had thrown himself into the driver's seat, wrenching the wheel.
Terry walked away without a scratch. Leo bled out on the asphalt, his last breath a plea for Terry to look after his little sister, Molly.
For years, Terry had honored that debt, showering Molly with a devotion that bordered on obsessive.
In my last life, when I realized he was willing to sacrifice me for her, I shattered. I tore the divorce papers to shreds.
But it ended the same way. The stomach cancer diagnosis came later. By then, I was ready to let Terry go, to let myself go. But Mollys whispered words, "Do you think she's faking it just to torture you, Terry?" sealed my fate. He became convinced I was lying, that my illness was just another manipulative game. To escape the media storm and finalize our split, he framed me for cheating and sued for divorce.
Hopeless, I ended my own life.

1
"Vivian, we'll tell the public we were planning to divorce a year ago. Well say we kept it quiet for personal reasons."
I was staring into a glass of water on the restaurant table when Terrys voice cut through my thoughts.
Just yesterday, the paparazzi had released photos implying Molly was his lover. The word "mistress" exploded online, and a tidal wave of hate crashed down on her. Terry Vance, CEO of Vance Corporation, was branded an adulterer, and the company's stock plummeted overnight.
In my last life, Id laughed at those grainy photos, scoffing at how easily the public could be misled. My laughter died on my lips the moment Terry slid the divorce papers across the table. It turned into a bitter, endless irony. I had screamed at him then, demanding to know what was real and what was a lie. There were a million ways to handle a baseless rumor, yet he chose the one that threw me to the wolves.
"Vivian," Terrys voice pulled me back to the present. "Trust me, this is just for show. Once the dust settles, we'll get married again."
I slowly lifted my head, my gaze falling on the document between us.
"You have to understand, Vivian. I'll make it up to you when this is all over, I promise." He wrapped an arm around me, his eyes, so often lauded for their depth and sincerity, searching mine. He softened his voice, a low, cooing tone he used when he wanted something.
I remained silent. Standing beside him, Molly looked ghostly pale, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears.
"Vivian, please," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I'm begging you, please help us."
"My brother is gone. I have no one else I don't know who else to turn to. Please."
With that, she went rigid, as if to drop to her knees. Terry moved like lightning, catching her by the waist and pulling her into his arms.
"What are you doing?" he hissed at Molly, but his sharp, irritated glare was fixed on me. "I've already made my decision. I expect you to cooperate at the press conference tomorrow. Or else"
"I'll sign."
I cut him off, tired of watching their pathetic charade.
And I knew exactly what "or else" meant.
In my last life, not long after I tore up the papers, I was drugged and photographed in a compromising position with a stranger. The "evidence" of my affair was leaked. Overnight, I went from being the victim to a reviled slut.
And they, the ones truly at fault, walked away clean, their reputations scrubbed spotless.

2
Terry blinked, clearly stunned by my quick agreement.
"I'll sign," I repeated, "but on one condition."
I looked up at him, my gaze as calm and still as a frozen lake.
A complex emotion flickered across his face. After a short pause, he nodded. "Anything. Name any other terms you want. I'll do my best to meet them."
I didn't answer. I just picked up the pen, flipped to the last page of the agreement, and signed my nameVivian Sterlingwith a steady, clean stroke.
"You're not even going to read the terms?" Terrys brow furrowed, his eyes filled with a confused, searching light.
I smiled faintly. "No need. It doesn't matter." I capped the pen and pushed the document toward him. "Is there anything else?" My voice was flat, as if I were discussing the weather.
"I'll pick you up tomorrow morning. We'll go to the courthouse."
I gave a slight nod but said nothing more.
Terrys expression was a tangled mess of emotions, but in the end, he just sighed, turned, and left. Molly followed him. At the door, she paused, glancing back at me from the corner of her eye. A smirk played on her lips.
Slowly, deliberately, she mouthed three words: I won.
Then she was gone.
In my last life, she did win. And I lost everything.
But this time, I refused to lose. Not one single thing.
A while later, my phone screen lit up. A message from Ryan.
Viv, I heard from Terry. I know what he did was wrong.
But you know how long it took him to get over Leo's death.
He's pouring all his guilt for Leo into taking care of Molly.
He told me that once the media storm dies down, he's going to throw you another, even grander wedding. Just trust him, okay?
I let out a soft, humorless laugh, but my eyes burned with tears.
It was the same script as last time. When Terry couldn't get me to sign the papers, he'd turned to his friends for advice. Hed forgotten that his friends were also my friends.
Blinded by his own drama, he couldn't see the truth. But Ryan could.
Ryan had tried so hard to talk sense into him, begging Terry not to throw away his marriage for Molly. Then hed come to me, singing Terrys praises, telling me what a loyal and honorable man he was. If Leo hadn't shielded Terry with his own body, Terry would be dead.
Back then, I had sobbed, my words choked with rage.
"He's put her first for years! I know he feels guilty, and I've tried to be understanding. But now there are a million ways to clear up this mess, and he chooses to sacrifice meto sacrifice twelve years of our life together."
Ryan had opened his mouth, but no words came out.
He had asked Terry the same question. Terrys answer had been chillingly simple: "Someone has to get hurt. I can only fail Vivian. She loves me. Shell understand my position."
Just because I loved him, I was the one to be sacrificed?
What kind of twisted logic was that?
Thankfully, this time, I still had a chance to save myself.

3
When it came to Molly, Terry was ruthlessly efficient. He got the signed papers from me one day and scheduled a press conference for the next morning.
I was sitting in the garden when Terry's assistant, led by our housekeeper, approached me.
"Ms. Sterling," he said, his tone formal. "Mr. Vance sent me to escort you to the Vance Corporation press conference."
Before I could reply, he must have mistaken my silence for refusal. He relayed Terry's message verbatim.
"Ms. Sterling, even if it's not for Mr. Vance's sake, you should attend for the sake of your own reputation."
I paused, then let out a small, dry chuckle.
He was threatening me again. Afraid Id back out at the last minute, resorting to the same tactics that broke me in my past life. He was willing to ruin me to protect Molly, to bend me to his will until I had no choice but to obey.
Id never understood it. In Terrys heart, was I his wife or his enemy?
Now, he wanted to publicly clarify our relationship.
So did I.
The car glided toward Aethelburg's most luxurious hotel. The entrance was a chaotic sea of reporters and flashing lights. The assistant guided me through the throng and into the lobby.
"Excuse me, please make way." Terry's voice came from behind.
I turned. Molly, a vision in a white dress, was on his arm. They looked like a perfect couple.
My eyes met Terrys. For a fraction of a second, we locked gazes, and then he looked away, his expression coolly indifferent. He guided Molly forward, their movements intimate, as if the world around themincluding medidn't exist.
A self-mocking laugh escaped my lips.
"Ms. Sterling, is it true that you and Mr. Vance are divorced?"
The question came from a young man who looked like an intern, his voice timid.
"Yes," I replied, a polite smile on my face as I nodded.
He seemed determined to find a crack in my composure. "But you and Mr. Vance met in college, didn't you? You dated for five years and were married for seven" he pressed on. "Just last month, he bought you a luxury yacht. And the fireworks display for your birthday was the talk of the city"
My smile didn't waver, but my eyes were distant.
"He owed me that."
He missed my birthday because Molly had called him, whispering, "Terry, I miss my brother. Can you stay with me?" The yacht and the fireworks were his apology gifts.
In my last life, Id been so proud of those grand gestures. It never occurred to me to question the reason behind the "compensation." I only learned later it had all been Ryan's idea. Terry hadnt been involved at all. He didnt even know where the fireworks had been set off.
"You say he owed you," the intern persisted, his voice laced with nervous energy as the surrounding noise faded. "But what about your feelings for Mr. Vance?"
Terrys head turned toward me, his brow slightly furrowed.
I smiled, a slow, chilling curve of my lips, and my gaze turned to ice. "I don't love him anymore."

4
The intern started to ask another question, but a senior reporter beside him pulled him back.
I didn't stay for the rest of the conference. Once I had clarified my relationship with Terry, I turned and walked away, ignoring the cameras that followed my every move.
Overnight, public opinion did a complete 180.
My interview dominated the headlines for days. Terrys statement was the nail in the coffin: "Miss Molly was not the reason for the breakdown of our marriage," he had said, his voice firm and resolute. "Her brother was a hero who saved my life. Molly is his only living relative, and it is my responsibility to care for her. Please, look at this situation rationally."
"Vivian and I mutually decided to end our marriage a year ago. We simply hadn't found the right time to announce it. We wanted to handle this in a way that would cause the least amount of pain to everyone involved. We are making this public now to clear up any misunderstandings about Miss Molly."
Instantly, Molly was absolved. The "homewrecker" label was peeled away, and she was recast as the tragic, innocent victim of the whole affair.
And I became the villain. The cold, heartless woman who had initiated the divorce. The internet trolls, guided by carefully placed whispers, began to speculate about the real reason for our split.
I wasn't supportive enough. I was jealous of Molly.
I had twisted their pure, sibling-like bond into something sordid. I was a gold-digger who had abandoned Terry for a bigger payout
I stood at the center of a storm of accusations and lies.
"Don't pay any attention to what they're saying online," Terry said as we walked out of the courthouse, the fresh divorce decree in his hand. "Give it time. People will forget."
I shot him a look dripping with irony. We were both being savaged online, but somehow, Mollys pain was unbearable while mine could simply be weathered with time.
"Vivian, the holidays are only three months away," he continued, his voice softer now. "You always loved the spring. When spring comes, we'll have another wedding. A better one. What do you say?"
His voice was low and gentle, laced with a fragile, cautious hope. He reached for my hand, but I shifted away, my eyes fixed on the reporters being held back by bodyguards a short distance away.
Terry seemed to sense his misstep and took a half-step back, creating a space between us.
"Terry, I'm going back to Willow Creek."
"That's a good idea. Spend some time with your parents. I'll come get you for the holidays and we'll"
"I'm not coming back," I said, cutting him off.
He froze, the faint smile on his face stiffening.
"Vivian, don't say things you don't mean. Just wait for me in Willow Creek. I'll"
"Terry," I interrupted him again. "You made me a promise when I signed those papers. It's time to keep it."
He stared at me, his expression blank.
When this all began, a small, foolish part of me had wondered if things could be different this time. But the moment he put those papers in front of me again, all I felt was a profound sense of release.
"Terry Vance, I want you to never appear before me again for the rest of your life."

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