Ten Years Gone: Her Vengeance Unlocked

No Longer His Wife, His Mother

As the building crumbled around us, my husband, a paramedic, held the only oxygen mask. He gave it to his high school sweetheart, not to me, his wife who was struggling to breathe. Pinned under a beam, I gasped that I was pregnant. He told me to stop being dramatic and left me to die, taking our son with him. My own son agreed, telling his father I always "bounce back." I lost our baby, alone in a hospital room, while they fussed over her "anxiety attack" across the hall. They had chosen her, leaving me and our child in the rubble without a second thought. When he finally confronted me, it wasn't to apologize, but to demand I stop my "games." So I gave him exactly what he and our son had wished for. "I'm divorcing you," I said calmly. "And you can have Jax. I no longer want to be his mother."

The Alpha's Lost Heir: A Rejected Luna's Revenge

I took a poisoned dagger for my husband, Alpha Jackson, destroying my womb and my health to save his life. I thought my sacrifice made our bond unbreakable. But three years later, when I miraculously fell pregnant, he didn't celebrate. Instead, he brought me a box of "expensive supplements" to help my condition. I opened a vial and smelled the acrid, metallic scent of Wolfsbane. He wasn't trying to heal me; he was ensuring I—and the baby he didn't know about—would never wake up. At the pack ceremony, he publicly humiliated me, pinning the Luna's brooch on his pregnant mistress, Candida. When I protested, he slapped me across the face in front of the entire pack, calling me a useless, barren burden. He wanted me dead so he could replace me. So, I gave him exactly what he wanted. With the help of a trusted healer, I staged my own death and vanished into the night. Years later, when I returned as the powerful White Wolf and the cherished mate of the Lycan King, Jackson fell to his knees in front of the world, weeping and begging for me to come home. I looked down at the man who destroyed me and smiled cold. "Get up, Jackson. You're embarrassing yourself." "I'm not your wife anymore; I'm the woman who survived you."

From Broken Wife To Billionaire Power

Lying in the hospital bed, I clutched my empty stomach, the doctor' s words about my miscarriage still ringing in my ears. I called my husband, desperate for comfort, but he sounded annoyed. "Allison, not now," Erik snapped. "Barbie' s dog is throwing up. She' s hysterical. Just get a cab and stop being so dramatic." He hung up on his wife who just lost their child to comfort his mistress' s Pomeranian. When I dragged my broken body home, he didn't hug me. He forced me to apologize to the dog. Then came the final blow: I watched on TV as he gifted my entire photography portfolio to his mistress, claiming it was her work, while handing me a bottle of perfume he knew I was deadly allergic to. Broken, I went to a radical clinic to have my memories of him erased forever. But the procedure didn't leave me blank. It unlocked a door I didn't know existed. I wasn't the orphan Allison Day. I was Allison Woodward, the missing billionaire heiress. And I was done apologizing.

His Cruelty, My Despair

The heavy oak door of my penthouse swung open, and I looked up, my heart hoping Ethan was finally home alone. He wasn' t. Olivia Chen was clinging to his arm, her smile bright, her eyes sweeping over our home with a look of ownership. "Chloe," he said, his voice flat, "We need to talk." For a month, he' d been asking for a divorce, claiming our life was monotonous. He meant someone new. "I' m not signing the papers," I told him, the words tasting like ash. Olivia' s sugary sweet voice cut in, "Ethan, darling, maybe she just needs more time to understand." A cold fury ignited in my chest as he gestured vaguely, tired of "this" -our ten years together. Then he led her right into our custom-designed master bedroom. My blood ran cold. He couldn' t. But he did. And her light laughter drifted out, cutting right through me. A sudden, searing pain shot through my chest, making me gasp. It felt like a wire pulled tight, a strange agony I' d been feeling for weeks, always when his betrayal was deepest. I stumbled toward the door, pushing it open, and the sight shattered the last piece of my hope. He had her pressed against our bedroom window. "What are you doing? Get out," he said, his eyes filled with cold irritation, not shame. "This is my room," I whispered. "Not for much longer," he said cruelly. The pain intensified. He didn' t just want a divorce; he wanted to erase, to humiliate me. With the calm of despair, I walked to the study, and signed the divorce papers. "Here," I said, my voice empty, holding them out. "It' s what you wanted." He snatched them, his eyes lighting up with unconcealed joy. "Finally. Let' s go. We can get this filed right now." He dragged me to his new Aston Martin, personalized with Olivia' s initials. He was so eager to be rid of me, he was blind to his own betrayal. At the courthouse, ten years dissolved in twenty minutes. As he walked away, I felt something snap inside me. "The bed," I called out. "The million-dollar bed. It was a gift from my grandfather." "It' s just a bed, Chloe." "It' s not just a bed. It was for us!" I cried, the pain in my chest flaring. "I was bored. Love isn' t some fairy tale," he said, dissecting our love like a failed business deal. Another sharp pain, more intense than any before, shot through me. I crumbled to the ground, black spots dancing in my vision. "Stop being so dramatic," he said, pushing me into a cab. I curled into a ball, the world fading to black. I woke in the condo he' d sent me to, weakened. A few days later, Olivia showed up, demanding the pearl necklace Ethan had given me. "He told me it represented the years we had built together, each pearl a precious memory." "I' m here for the pearls," she said. "No," I said, my voice firm. Then Ethan appeared with security guards. "She' s been unwell. She might not be thinking clearly. Retrieve the jewelry box." One pushed me. I hit my head. Olivia cried, "Oh my god! She fell! Ethan, she tried to attack me!" He looked at her, not me. "She' s unstable. Take her to the old property with the basement apartment. Make sure she stays there." They dragged me to a dilapidated building, throwing me into a damp, dark basement. The heavy metal door slammed shut. I was a prisoner. And I began to remember. Not just in this life, but a past one. He had saved me then, binding his life force to mine with a forbidden ritual. His betrayal now was severing that bond, killing me. I would not die in this basement. I found a way out, desperate to clear my name. I went to Marcus Green, Ethan' s business partner, our friend. "Ethan said you' d gone to a wellness retreat," Marcus said, shocked by my appearance. I told him everything. "He locked me in a basement. Olivia set me up!" "Ethan is my partner. He wouldn' t do something like that." "Olivia is pregnant," Marcus said. The words hit me like a physical blow. A baby would secure her position. "It' s a lie," I whispered, though I knew it was likely true. Marcus reached for the phone. "I' m going to call Ethan. He' ll know what to do." Panic seizing me, I ran, a fugitive on the streets, with no money, no phone, nowhere to go. My body was failing, the cough persistent. He found me in a doorway. "You' ve caused a lot of trouble," he said, leading me to his car, straight to the penthouse. Olivia' s things were everywhere. "Olivia is having a difficult pregnancy," he said. "She needs someone to look after her." "You' re going to take care of her." He wanted me, his ex-wife whom he had imprisoned, to nursemaid his pregnant mistress. "No!" I cried, a spark of defiance. "You don' t have a choice. Or I will have you committed." He had me trapped. The next weeks were hell. I cooked for her, cleaned for her, treated like an invisible servant. My health declined rapidly. One afternoon, carrying a heavy tray, an unbearable agony struck. I collapsed, gasping for breath. I woke in a hospital bed. Dr. Hayes was grave. "Your body is shutting down." From the other side of the curtain, I heard Ethan and Olivia. He cooed, "Don' t be scared, I' m right here." Then, kissing. The pain in my chest exploded. "How can you be so cruel?" I gasped, tears streaming. "Honestly?" he said, his voice flat. "I' d be relieved. It would make things a lot simpler." His words were the final blow. He wanted me dead. A few days later, I was back in the penthouse, facing a grim prognosis. The only comfort was Whiskers, my rescue cat. I found him huddled in the bathroom, a bloody gash on his fur. "You did this!" I screamed at Olivia. She lied. "He scratched me." Ethan walked in. She burst into tears, showing him her scratch. "Chloe' s cat attacked me! And now she' s accusing me of hurting it. She' s crazy!" "You did this?" he snarled at me, blindness in his eyes. "No! Ethan, she' s lying! Look at him!" He slapped me, sending me stumbling. Whiskers fell, crying. "You' re a monster. Get out, and take that disgusting animal with you." I carried Whiskers' dying body out, buried him in a quiet park, and returned, hollow. Ethan arrived later, searching. "Where is it? The herb. The life-saving herb I gave you." He wanted the miraculous herb that could save my life, to give to Olivia and his child. "It' s for the baby, isn' t it?" I asked. "It' s for both of them. Tell me where it is. Olivia' s life is on the line." "It' s mine. You gave it to me. I think I might need it." I placed a hand over my aching chest. "Don' t be dramatic, Chloe. Olivia is the one who is really sick." He twisted the past, claiming his life-binding sacrifice was a debt I owed him. "That bond is the reason I' m dying," I whispered. "Your betrayal is killing me, Ethan. Literally." He dismissed it as insanity, tearing the condo apart. My pain flared. I knew I didn' t have much time. I remembered the herb, hidden in my jewelry box. I could let him fail. But suddenly, what was I fighting for? A life without love? I pulled out the box, then the powerful herb. "Give it to me," he demanded, his eyes gleaming. "You can have it. But you have to do one thing for me. I want the divorce finalized. Now. Every last tie. I want to be free of you." He quickly agreed. An hour later, the papers were signed. The pain ripped through me as I finished. I cried out. He snatched the papers. "The herb, Chloe." With my last strength, I placed it in his hand. He didn' t notice me dying. "Thank you," he said, already turning. "Ethan," I gasped, "Help me." "You' ll be fine. You just need to rest." And he was gone. I lay dying, unseen. My life flashed before my eyes. I saw him racing to the hospital, giving Olivia the herb, her "miraculous" recovery. Then, their lavish wedding. As they kissed, a final, passionate sealing of their union, I took my last breath. My death was quiet, unnoticed. He was blissfully unaware he was dancing on my grave. A few days later, nightmares began for Ethan. He' d wake in a cold sweat, a profound sense of loss. He' d hum a lullaby, my mother' s song, and a sharp pang would hit. He looked for me in crowds, picked up the phone to call me. He tried to contact my lawyer, but my lawyer had vanished. A frustrating, low-grade anger grew. A cold dread then seeped into his bones. What if I had been telling the truth? He doubled down on his new life, but the nightmares came back. I was always there, just… gone. The emptiness was a gaping wound. My friend, Sarah Jenkins, called my lawyer, Liam Rodriguez. He told her everything. My death. The cause: heart failure from severe emotional and physical distress. "Ethan did this," Sarah said, her voice shaking with rage. "He killed her." Liam also told her about my will, leaving everything to Sarah. And Ethan was trying to contest it. Olivia, listening on a hidden device, realized she had to keep him in the dark. Once married, his claim would be stronger. The day before the wedding, Ethan found himself at my condo, staring. He felt an overwhelming urge to go up, to see me, to apologize, to fix his mess. But he drove away. It was too late. I was probably gone, living a new life. The wedding day. Ethan waited at the altar, but as Olivia walked down the aisle, a knot of dread formed. He was looking for me. He wanted me to stop this. His numbness continued until the reception. Sarah found him on the dance floor. "I' m Chloe' s friend. Chloe is dead, Ethan. She died three weeks ago. Alone." "No," he whispered. "You' re lying." Sarah shoved my death certificate at him. He stared at it. His vision swam. "She' s dead," he repeated. His mind flashed back to me, collapsed on the floor. He had walked away. He spiraled. "He' s lying! This is a trick! Chloe is trying to ruin my wedding!" "She' s gone, Ethan. And you killed her." The words broke through. He ran from the ballroom, collapsing in the gardens. Every cruel word, every selfish act, rushed back. He had taken my love, my loyalty, my life force, and thrown it away. He had traded a diamond for glass. Regret was a poison. He went to Dr. Hayes. "Tell me about Chloe. Her condition… it was unusual, wasn' t it?" "Rapid. As if her body had simply lost the will to live." "It wasn' t her will," Ethan said. "It was me." He found Olivia packing. "The baby isn' t yours to take. It' s mine. You' re not going anywhere." He told her about the bond, how he had killed me. She tried to dismiss it as grief. "You lied to me, Olivia. You lied about everything." "I did it for us! She was always going to be between us!" she shrieked. "Tell me the truth, Olivia. Was the baby ever in danger?" he roared. "No!" she sobbed. "The baby was fine! I lied!" He let her go. He looked at the wreckage. His new life was a lie. Only Chloe' s love had been real. And he had killed her for it. He drove to my grave. A simple, unmarked patch of grass. He found my locket. Inside, his smiling face, and Whiskers. "I' m sorry," he whispered, collapsing. He stayed for hours, tormented by memories. He found the truth. The long-buried memories of another life, of his sacred vow. He had murdered his own soulmate. Olivia and her mother, Lily, were plotting. He looked at them. "I' m going to destroy you, Olivia." His revenge was cold, systematic. He dismantled her life, piece by piece. He revealed her lies. He confined her to a gilded cage until the baby was born. He gave the child to another family. Olivia was given money and a one-way ticket. Ethan sold everything. He lived in exile, consumed by regret. He poured his fortune into finding a way to bring me back. He sought mystics, bought ancient texts, performed bizarre rituals. He came close, but the ritual required him to burn the locket, to erase my memory forever. He threw the locket into the flames, a final, agonized cry. The ritual failed. The memory was gone. He was utterly broken. Years bled into a decade. Ethan returned to New York, a ghost, the memory of my face burned away. All that remained was a hollow ache. He overheard talk of a reclusive spiritual guide, someone who could help him find what he had lost. Hope flickered. He undertook the perilous journey. Weeks of climbing, enduring, shedding his old self. He just needed to know why. At the monastery, the monk tried to turn him away. "I need to find her! I lost her, and I don' t even remember her face!" he yelled, an agony he couldn' t name. The master saw him. "The soul you seek cannot be brought back. Her spirit has moved on." "But there is a way for you to see her. She is in the world again, living a new life." "Where? I have to find her!" "To see her, you must first truly remember her. It is hidden in the place where your love was strongest." He searched their old haunts, desperate. At my unmarked grave, he knelt. "I can' t remember." His hand brushed against a smooth, white stone. He remembered. A promise on a beach. Our love was in the promise. The floodgates opened. My face, my smile, my voice-it all rushed back. He remembered everything. He then felt a faint, distant echo. He focused, and saw an image: a young woman with familiar eyes, painting in a bright, sunlit studio. He found the studio in Brooklyn. He watched her emerge. It was me. But she was younger, unburdened, happy. His first instinct was to run to her. But the warning held him back. "To interfere would be to risk causing her harm once more." He saw her with a young man, Noah. They were in love. It was a fresh stab of pain, but also a profound relief. She was happy. He started to follow her, a silent protector. One day, he sat near her in the park. She looked up, her eyes meeting his. There was no recognition. But he felt the last, tattered remnants of their bond flare. She felt a strange chill, a flicker of a forgotten nightmare, and hurried away. He had scared her. His presence, his dark history, was still a poison. He finally understood. To truly love her, he had to let her go. He would set up one final, massive trust fund, delivered upon his death. Then disappear. He watched Noah propose to Lily. His heart clenched. She was moving on. He had to hear her answer. He moved closer. Noah saw him, putting himself between Ethan and Lily, his voice protective. Ethan froze. On Lily' s hand, he saw the new ring. And on her thumb, another, a simple silver band. The one he had given me. "Chloe," he whispered. Lily' s eyes widened. "I' m sorry, I think you have me confused with someone else." Noah stepped forward. "I think you should leave." Ethan backed away, the image of her frightened eyes burning him. He had broken his own rule. He realized his guardianship was selfish. He would make the final arrangement, then disappear completely. A few weeks later, he saw them again in the park. Lily was smiling, talking about her solo show. Noah then proposed their wedding be soon. "Ever since that strange man in the park, I' ve felt this sense of urgency. I need to protect you." Ethan lowered the binoculars, a tear of sorrow and peace tracing his cheek. She had a protector now. His job was done. He walked away, not looking back. Letting go was harder than imagined. His purpose gone, he felt the hollow ache of grief. His obsession turned inward. He began to stalk her again, a ghost drawn to the light. He watched her gallery opening. She was radiant, confident. Noah was beaming. Ethan was the outcast peering from outside. That night, his nightmares returned, but they were Lily' s. The cold basement, the dying cat. He was experiencing the echoes of my trauma. He woke screaming, realization dawning. His presence was actively harming her. He dreamed again. As his spiritual self, he watched Lily' s spirit. "His regret is meaningless," my spirit-voice whispered. "It is the regret of a man who mourns what he has lost for himself, not what he has taken from another." He woke with a gasp. His atonement, his years of suffering, had all been about him. He was still selfish. He knew what to do. He had to erase himself from the world. A final, selfless act. He walked to the Brooklyn Bridge. "I love you, Chloe," he whispered. "Always." And then, he let go. Lily woke with a start, the nightmare more vivid than ever. Noah held her, reassuring her it was just a dream, but she felt a strange sense of finality. A few days later, a lawyer named Liam Rodriguez appeared. "He passed away. And he has left you his entire fortune." "Ethan Miller?" Lily stammered. "I don' t know any Ethan Miller." "I think you do," Liam said, showing her a photo. A younger Ethan, and her. Chloe Davis. "That is you, in a former life. And that is Ethan Miller. He was your husband." The words, the photo, the nightmares-it all coalesced. The dream wasn' t a dream. It was a memory. He handed her a thick envelope. "He wanted you to know the truth." Noah read Ethan' s confession. About the love, the betrayal, the spiritual bond, the cruelty, the long, painful atonement. How he watched over her. How he orchestrated her success. His final, selfless act. Lily cried. "He did all that?" "He was your guardian angel." A week later, Lily decided. "I' ll accept it. But on one condition. I want to use it to create the Chloe Davis Foundation for the Arts." She looked at Noah, her eyes clear. Chloe Davis was a part of her story, but she was Lily. In the months that followed, the nightmares faded. She and Noah married. The Chloe Davis Foundation became her life' s work, a legacy of hope. Liam called. Ethan' s official coroner' s report was out. "His heart… looking like the heart of a very, very old man. Worn out from overuse." Lily knew. The spiritual bond, the echo of his sacrifice, had drained him. His final act was the severance of a physical tie his heart couldn' t survive without. A package arrived. The silver locket. Returned by the mystic. "A soul' s story should never be erased." Lily looked at the locket, a symbol of a great, tragic love. She placed it in her safe. She returned to her canvas, a new, bright painting waiting. She had a new story to tell. Her own. And it was just beginning.

From Betrayal to Bliss

The post went live at 8:00 PM, announcing my engagement to Ava Green, the woman I' d chased for three years. My heart was full; our future, a perfect blueprint, finally felt real. Then, her phone rang. It was Ben Carter, her childhood friend, and the way she fled to the balcony, her face pale, sent a jolt of dread through me. She returned to tell me Ben' s grandmother was dying and had one last wish: to see him settled with a fiancée. He wanted Ava, my fiancée, to pretend to be his for a few days to grant a dying woman peace. "A small lie?" I scoffed. We were getting married in less than two months, and she was willing to fly across the country to play house with her ex-crush. My carefully constructed world crumbled as she packed, ignoring my pleas, placing my brand-new engagement ring on the nightstand. She walked out, leaving me in a deafening silence. As I stared at the ring, a white-hot rage surged through me. Three years, my devotion, all thrown away for a lie. She chose him, manipulated by his family drama. This wasn' t just about her; it was about proving something. What if I showed her a man who was truly settled, with a fiancée? I picked up my phone, scrolled to a name I hadn't thought of in years, and made a call. "Chloe," I said, my voice strange. "Are you busy on October 8th? Do you want to get married?"

The Day I Said No！

The smell of ozone meant a blizzard, and the buzzing of Tyler's call meant the end of my life. In my last life, I answered, running to save Ethan, the man I loved, from a Rockies storm. That rescue shattered my leg, my climbing career, and ultimately, my spirit. Ethan married me out of pity, our life together a silent torment. Then came the fire, my bad leg trapping me, choking smoke filling my lungs. My husband, Ethan, and our teenage son pulled his mistress, Brooke, from the flames first. The last thing I heard was my own son screaming, "You're a cripple! You ruined Dad's life!" Why did I sacrifice everything for them, only to be betrayed and left to die? Why did I have to be the broken one, the victim in my own story? Then I woke up. Here. Today. The day it all went wrong. This time, when the phone buzzed, I answered, not to save him, but to save myself.

That Prince Is A Girl: The Vicious King's Captive Slave Mate.

They don't know I'm a girl. They all look at me and see a boy. A prince. Their kind purchase humans like me for their lustful desires. And, when they stormed into our kingdom to buy my sister, I intervened to protect her. I made them take me too. The plan was to escape with my sister whenever we found a chance. How was I to know our prison would be the most fortified place in their kingdom? I was supposed to be on the sidelines. The one they had no real use for. The one they never meant to buy. But then, the most important person in their savage land-their ruthless beast king-took an interest in the "pretty little prince." How do we survive in this brutal kingdom, where everyone hates our kind and shows us no mercy? And how does someone, with a secret like mine, become a lust slave? . AUTHOR'S NOTE. This is a dark romance-dark, mature content. Highly rated 18+ Expect triggers, expect hardcore. If you're a seasoned reader of this genre, looking for something different, prepared to go in blindly not knowing what to expect at every turn, but eager to know more anyway, then dive in! . From the author of the international bestselling book: "The Alpha King's Hated Slave."

Marrying The Rival: My Ex-Husband's Despair

I stood outside my husband's study, the perfect mafia wife, only to hear him mocking me as an "ice sculpture" while he entertained his mistress, Aria. But the betrayal went deeper than infidelity. A week later, my saddle snapped mid-jump, leaving me with a shattered leg. Lying in the hospital bed, I overheard the conversation that killed the last of my love. My husband, Alessandro, knew Aria had sabotaged my gear. He knew she could have killed me. Yet, he told his men to let it go. He called my near-death experience a "lesson" because I had bruised his mistress's ego. He humiliated me publicly, freezing my accounts to buy family heirlooms for her. He stood by while she threatened to leak our private tapes to the press. He destroyed my dignity to play the hero for a woman he thought was a helpless orphan. He had no idea she was a fraud. He didn't know I had installed micro-cameras throughout the estate while he was busy pampering her. He didn't know I had hours of footage showing his "innocent" Aria sleeping with his guards, his rivals, and even his staff, laughing about how easy he was to manipulate. At the annual charity gala, in front of the entire crime family, Alessandro demanded I apologize to her. I didn't beg. I didn't cry. I simply connected my drive to the main projector and pressed play.

He Chose First Love, I Chose the Alpha King

I gave him three years of silent devotion behind a mask I never wanted to wear. I made a wager for our bond-he paid me off like a mistress. "Chloe's back," Zane said coldly. "It's over." I laughed, poured wine on his face, and walked away from the only love I'd ever known. "What now?" my best friend asked. I smiled. "The real me returns." But fate wasn't finished yet. That same night, Caesar Conrad-the Alpha every wolf feared-opened his car door and whispered, "Get in." Our gazes collided. The bond awakened. No games. No pretending. Just raw, unstoppable power. "Don't regret this," he warned, lips brushing mine. But I didn't. Because the mate I'd been chasing never saw me. And the one who did? He's ready to burn the world for me.

THE BILLIONAIRE'S REGRET, CHASING AFTER ME

After the divorce, she became the dream woman everyone longed for. James Ferguson saved Zelda Liamson and always did whatever she asked, making sure she had everything she could ever want. Zelda thought it was true love. After five years of marriage, she realized she was nothing more than his favourite pet, while he was her whole world. Then, the woman James truly loved came back, and Zelda demanded a divorce. James mocked her, saying, " You can't survive without me. What will you do without the Ferguson's name? " But Zelda did run away and never looked back, receiving marriage proposals every day. James lost his mind and returned, begging Zelda, "Please, come back to me. Give me another chance." His eyes were full of love and desperation.

Heartbreak Billionaire: He Should Never Have Let Go

Sunlit hours found their affection glimmering, while moonlit nights ignited reckless desire. But when Brandon learned his beloved might last only half a year, he coolly handed Millie divorce papers, murmuring, "This is all for appearances; we'll get married again once she's calmed down." Millie, spine straight and cheeks dry, felt her pulse go hollow. The sham split grew permanent; she quietly ended their unborn child and stepped into a new beginning. Brandon unraveled, his car tearing down the street, unwilling to let go of the woman he'd discarded, pleading for her to look back just once.

Irresistible Seduction: Married For Deception, Loved For Real

Five years into marriage, Hannah caught Vincent slipping into a hotel with his first love-the woman he never forgot. The sight told her everything-he'd married her only for her resemblance to his true love. Hurt, she conned him into signing the divorce papers and, a month later, said, "Vincent, I'm done. May you two stay chained together." Red-eyed, he hugged her. "You came after me first." Her firm soon rocketed toward an IPO. At the launch, Vincent watched her clasp another man's hand. In the fitting room, he cornered her, tears burning in his eyes. "Is he really that perfect? Hannah, I'm sorry... marry me again."