Signed Away: His New Wife

From the back cover

In my past life, I died alone in a sterile hospital bed while my fiancé, Dyllan, comforted his "foster sister" Heather through a fake panic attack.

He missed the birth and death of our child because Heather was "too delicate" to be left alone.

Even as I took my last breath, he was wiping away her crocodile tears, ignoring my desperate calls.

I sacrificed my dreams, my money, and my life for him, only to be a forgotten footnote.

But when I opened my eyes, I was back at the City Hall counter, the marriage license waiting.

Dyllan tapped his foot impatiently, checking his phone.

"Hurry up, Ivy. Heather called. She' s having an episode. She needs me."

The old Ivy would have trembled and obeyed, desperate for his approval.

But I just smiled, a cold, calculated expression he didn't recognize.

"Go to her," I said, pushing him toward the door. "I'll handle the paperwork. Family comes first, right?"

He rushed out without a backward glance, relieved to be the hero again.

Left alone with the official document, I didn't write my own name on the bride's line.

With a steady hand and a heart full of vengeance, I wrote Heather Rosales.

Congratulations, Dyllan. You're legally married to the burden you love so much.

And I am finally free.