On the day of the engagement, my boyfriend forced me. I wanted to call the police, but his family thought I was being ridiculous and spread rumors that I was doing this to demand a higher betrothal gift. My parents wouldn't allow me to break off the engagement and pressured me to marry him. After the wedding, his true nature was revealed, and I was beaten to death by him. In this new life, I found myself back before the wedding, watching my aggressive boyfriend pressuring me to marry him. I told him boldly, "Don't dream; go to jail!"
Chapter 1
On the day of our engagement, my boyfriend forced himself on me.
I wanted to call the police, but his family accused me of making it up to extort money from them.
My parents refused to let me break off the engagement and forced me to marry him.
After the wedding, his true nature was revealed. I endured domestic violence until it killed me.
But now, fate gave me another chance. I was sent back to the days before the wedding. Standing before the man who once bullied me into marriage, I smirked, raised my hand, and slapped him across the face. "Dream on, Greg. Enjoy your time in jail!"
...
I was sexually assaulted by my boyfriend, Greg Burton.
Just hours earlier, two families had been celebrating at the engagement banquet. Greg slid a ring onto my finger, promising in front of everyone-especially my parents-that he'd love me forever.
But now, he was like a crazed beast, pinning me down, intent on tearing me apart.
I was terrified, in pain, and powerless. I begged, tears streaming down my face, for him to stop. But he didn't care. My words meant nothing to him-only his own twisted satisfaction.
When he was done, Greg pulled me into his arms, his expression content and disturbingly smug. The predator had donned his human mask once again.
"Babe," he said, his voice syrupy sweet, "it's our engagement day. You're finally mine. I'm so happy."
He cooed as though he hadn't just violated me. As though I wasn't trembling in fear.
I broke free from his embrace, fury coursing through me, and slapped him as hard as I could.
"You're a monster, Greg! You forced me!"
He cupped his cheek, anger flashing across his face. "What's wrong with you, Josie? Forced you? Are you insane? We're engaged! You're my fiancée. I can sleep with you whenever I want!"
"I haven't married you yet!" I screamed. "Even if I had, no means no! I told you I wasn't feeling well. I begged you to stop, but you didn't listen! That's a crime!"
Greg clenched his fists, glaring at me. "Cut the act! We're engaged. Sex is inevitable. Don't pretend to be some saint. You're not even a virgin, so spare me the theatrics. If you hit me again, I'll make you regret it!"
My mind went blank. I couldn't find the words to respond.
Greg hadn't always been like this. When we first met, he was charming, polite, and attentive. After just six months of dating, he proposed, and I had said yes without hesitation.
But now, on the day of our engagement, his mask had finally slipped.
Earlier that evening, during the banquet, I had overheard a conversation between Greg and his mother, Melissa, as I walked past the restroom.
"$15, 000 for the wedding expenses," Melissa grumbled. "Do you know how much effort your father and I put into saving that money? I told you to get her pregnant early. If you'd done your job, we wouldn't have to pay so much."
"Mom, I tried, but she won't let me touch her," Greg muttered.
"Ugh, well, you're engaged now. Make it happen tonight. If she's pregnant before the wedding, we control the negotiations. The wedding costs will be whatever we decide they are."
Their vile scheme made my stomach churn. Furious and disgusted, I had planned to confront Greg about it.
Instead, when I brought him back to our new apartment, he turned on me the moment we walked through the door. He ignored my protests, mocked my struggles, and unleashed a side of himself I had never seen before.
Now, as I trembled in the aftermath, I hastily dressed and stumbled toward the door.
"Where do you think you're going this late?" Greg grabbed my arm, his eyes cold and calculating. "Stop being dramatic. I drank too much and got a little rough. Why are you making such a big deal out of it?"
I couldn't bear to look at him. All I wanted was to get away as fast as possible.