Marrying My Dead Husband Again

When I arrived at the scene of the crash, the air was thick with the scent of burning rubber and cheap gasoline.

My husband, Wright, was covered in blood.

Yet, even with his chest collapsing, he was still clinging desperately to my twin sister, Gina, whose body was already broken beyond recognition.

"Jodie," Wright gasped, his voice rattling in his throat, his eyes glazing over as he looked up at me. "I spent my whole life regretting marrying you just to spite your sister. I know youve hated me too. If theres a next life... let's just let each other go."

"Sure," I murmured, barely looking at him. "Whatever you say."

I stood there and watched him draw his final, ragged breath, feeling a profound, quiet sense of satisfaction.

I wasn't being cruel; I was being practical. I had already given birth to Toby, the sole heir to the multi-billion-dollar Alden real estate empire. My mother-in-law was staggeringly generous, and my husband was now conveniently out of the picture.

A life of luxury, zero marital obligations, and a massive inheritance? If I had to live that reality all over again, I wouldn't hesitate for a second.

Decades later, when my own time came, I closed my eyes in a plush hospital bed, surrounded by silk sheets. But instead of slipping into the eternal dark, I woke up with a gasp.

I was staring at the ceiling of my childhood bedroom.

It was the exact day Wright was scheduled to propose to my sister.

In my previous life, Gina had made up a last-minute excuse to send me to the venue in her place, setting up the grand misunderstanding that bound Wright and me together. This time, however, she didn't bother with excuses. She simply locked my bedroom door from the outside, determined to claim her wealthy suitor without any interference.

I didn't panic. I quietly opened the window, climbed down the trellis to the lawn, and caught a cab straight to the venue.

They say a forced marriage is bitter, but they've never tasted the fruits of a wealthy, dead husbands estate.

This time, I was still going to marry him.

I arrived at the venue early.

The garden of the boutique hotel was a sea of Turkish Halfeti black rosesall because Gina once mentioned she liked the dark, dramatic aesthetic. Scattered across the manicured lawn were a dozen velvet gift boxes, each containing a piece of diamond jewelry worth millions.

In our past life, Gina had constantly complained to our parents that her boyfriend, Wright, was a broke loser. Their dates consisted of five-dollar food-truck tacos and cheap corner-store milkshakes; his gifts to her were plastic trinkets from thrift shops. When she finally deduced he was planning a proposal, she panicked, viewing it as a trap to bind her to a lifetime of middle-class mediocrity. She had tricked me into going to the garden to reject him on her behalf.

I was the one who walked into that garden, only to discover that "broke" Wright was actually the sole heir to the Alden fortune, testing her love.

By the time Wright realized I was Jodie and not Gina, the ring was already on my finger. His wealthy friends were cheering, cameras were rolling, and the social pressure was immense. He couldn't back down without humiliating his family.

After the ceremony, he had used my phone to call Gina, demanding an explanation.

Gina had laughed over the receiver. "Oh, Jodie probably saw your text and went to watch the drama. We look identical anyway, Wright. Dating her is the same as dating me. Youre both childish, so you should have plenty in common. Let's call it quits. Don't contact me again."

Wrights face had turned a deep, furious crimson. He slammed my phone onto the pavement, turned to me, and asked if I had my ID on me.

I had nodded, pulling it from my pocket.

We signed the marriage papers that afternoon, without a prenup, driven entirely by his spite and my survival instinct.

Now, standing in the shadow of the rose arches, I looked at this younger, unblemished version of Wright. A wave of nostalgia hit me. In our first marriage, he had only touched me during our first month togetherand only because his formidable mother, Donna, had threatened to disinherit him if he didn't produce an heir. Afterward, he spent the rest of his short life chasing Gina across the country, eventually dying in that horrific pileup at twenty-eight.

Our son, Toby, was only three when Wright died. Donna, terrified I would take the boy and vanish, had showered me with trusts, properties, and black cards. I had spent sixty glorious years as a wealthy, independent widow.

Remembering those peaceful, luxurious decades, a genuine, warm smile spread across my face. I raised my hand and called out to him.

"Wright."

He turned. But he didn't rush forward with the joyful, boyish grin from my memories. Instead, his brow furrowed, his eyes scanning my face with intense, calculated suspicion.

"Are you... Jodie?" he asked, his voice tight.

My heart sank slightly.

The script had changed. Wright was reborn, too.

I adapted instantly, shifting my posture to mimic Ginas signature aloof, slightly defensive tilt of the head. "Wright, what are you talking about? Didn't you send me the coordinates to come here? What does my sister have to do with this?"

Wright let out a long, shuddering breath, the tension leaving his shoulders. He strode over and pulled me into a tight embrace.

"Gina. Thank God. It's you."

Terrified of another mix-up, he didn't waste a second. He pulled a small velvet box from his pocket, his hands trembling slightly with urgency.

"Gina, I'm sorry. I hid my family's financial situation because I wanted to be sure of... well, of everything. But my feelings for you are entirely real. Will you marry me?"

I nodded eagerly, offering my hand. "Yes."

He slipped the massive diamond ring onto my finger, pressing a lingering kiss to my knuckles. "Gina, I'll spend the rest of my life making you happy."

Seeing him look at me with such tenderness was deeply disorienting. In my previous life, even though marrying me had been his own spiteful decision, he had treated me like a criminal who had stolen his true love.

But his hostility had never really bothered me.

Whenever Wright threw a fit or ignored me, Donnawho had built the Alden empire from scratch after her husband's early passingwould drag Wright to the coals, strip him of a luxury asset, and hand it to me as an apology.

Before marrying into the family, I had been terrified of Donna. Afterward, I realized she was the mother I had always wanted.

When Wright refused to sleep in my room, Donna took me on private shopping sprees to Paris, sat with me front-row at fashion weeks, and used her influence to get me private meet-and-greets with my favorite artists.

When Wright intentionally called me "Gina" at a family dinner, Donna bought a prize-winning French bulldog the next morning and named it "Wright," training it to sit on command.

When Wright smashed a plate during an argument, Donna replaced our entire dining set with dynasty-era antique porcelain, warning him that the next broken dish would cost him his trust fund.

Eventually, Wright's tantrums became my favorite source of entertainment. Seeing his angry face was like watching a slot machine align to pay out a jackpot.

Looking at him now, I felt that familiar, comforting thrill of a secured future. Tears of genuine joy welled up in my eyes.

Wright froze, a soft, self-satisfied smile playing on his lips as he brushed a tear from my cheek. "You silly girl. Why are you crying? Are you really that happy?"

I nodded vigorously.

Wright laughed, turning to signal toward the pavilion.

Dozens of his friends emerged from the greenery, cheering and throwing confetti, even if they were slightly confused as to why the proposal had happened twenty minutes ahead of schedule.

Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Donna.

She wore a sharp, charcoal-grey pantsuit, her presence commanding the entire garden. She walked over, her sharp eyes softening slightly as she took my hand.

"My dear," Donna said, her voice rich and steady. "I hope you don't hold Wright's little deception against him. It was my idea. Since his father passed early, he's all I have, and I wanted to ensure the woman he brought home loved him for who he is, not what he owns. You won't suffer a single day under my roof."

She patted my hand before looking up. "Wright is always so quiet about his personal life. Tell me, dear, what did you study in college?"

Wright, who had been watching us with a look of quiet triumph, suddenly went rigid. I knew exactly what he was worrying about: Gina had barely scraped through a local community college, and Donna valued intellect above all else.

I offered Donna a bright, flawless smile. "Mrs. Alden, I actually just graduated from Columbia University with a degree in Business Administration. I haven't started my career yet, but I'm hoping to find something challenging soon."

Donnas smile widened, becoming entirely genuine. Without hesitation, she slipped a heavy, diamond-encrusted emerald bracelet off her own wrist and slid it onto mine.

"An Ivy League business graduate? Perfect. If you don't mind, you can start in our corporate office next week. I'll personally find a senior executive to mentor you."

Wright stared at me, his mouth slightly open, utterly dumbfounded.

Suddenly, a loud commotion broke out near the garden entrance.

Gina was struggling against three security guards, her face flushed with fury as she screamed, "Wright! I'm over here! You got the wrong twin!"

Our parents were right behind her, trying to pull the guards off her.

Wrights pupils contracted to pinpricks. He looked at the heavy emerald bracelet on my wrist, then at my face, and finally at the screaming girl by the gates.

"You're... Jodie?" he whispered, his voice cracking. "How... how is it you again?!"

I raised my brow slightly, leaned in, and whispered, "Surprise."