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After my sister was reborn, she stole the paralyzed man who was my husband in our past life—Soren Crowe. She leaned in and said smugly, "That cripple becomes a top sniper later, and he treats his wife like a queen." "As for Major Whitlock... he's in love with a vegetable. You'll be stuck in a dead marriage." I looked at the bruises Soren left on her wrist and quietly signed the marriage contract with Lysander Whitlock. He gives me 10k a month, is always on missions, and I get military cafeteria ribs instead of caring for a patient. Best. Life. Ever. Until I found an old photo in his study. The girl looked just like me. Death date? The day I lost my memory in a car crash. Then my sister burst in, screaming, "He found out! You're not a stand-in—you're the one he's been looking for!" My father arranged for my older sister, Paisley Hartman, and me to marry the sons of two generals. One was Lysander Whitlock, the youngest major general at the North Ridge Military Command Base. The other was Soren Crowe, a long-neglected family outcast who had been paralyzed for years. In my previous life, Paisley fought to marry Lysander. But he kept another woman in his h3art. She was trapped in a loveless marriage that felt like a living widowhood, and later, under the excuse of a "psychological evaluation," he locked her in a confinement room where no sunlight ever reached, until her mind finally broke. And I married the disabled man. Not only were his legs healed, but he also became a celebrated sniper with an impressive record. Before Paisley died, she saw Soren taking care of me. Jealousy drove her mad, and she dragged me off the roof with her. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day my father told us to choose. Paisley grabbed the marriage contract with Soren before I could react. Her face was full of barely contained triumph. "As the older sister, how could I let you suffer? The major general is yours. I'll marry the cripple with the broken legs!" I looked d
