Framed for a Hit-and-Run Reborn to Expose My Wife and Her Ex

Chapter 1

**Prelude**

I deliberately smashed the glass doors of a mall and turned myself in to the cops.

My wife stormed in behind me, furious. "Why the hell would you do that? We could've fixed this with money!"

I just shrugged, letting the officers cuff me as they led me away.

Why? Because in my last life, her so-called "soulmate"—her childhood friend—came crawling back after his business went under. He staged a car accident, killed someone, and pinned it all on me to steal my multi-million-dollar fortune.

What followed was a nightmare. The victim's family and the media hounded me relentlessly, convinced I was guilty. Every piece of evidence, every scrap of footage—it all pointed to me.

Even my wife turned on me, claiming I did it out of some twisted desire for revenge, that I was just some crazy guy trying to get back at the world.

In the end, I was stabbed to death by the victim's family in front of a crowd.

And then, I woke up. Right back to the day her so-called soulmate staged that accident.

**Prelude ends**

"Zach Sullivan, what the hell are you doing? It's just money. We can cover the damages! Why are you turning yourself in? Are you insane?"

Hannah stormed toward me, her face bright red with fury.

I raised my hands as the officer cuffed me.

"Hannah, when you screw up, you own it. I messed up, I caused damage, and I scared a lot of people. I need to face the music."

Without skipping a beat, Hannah shoved a wad of cash at the officer. "We have money—take it! Just don't arrest my husband!"

The officer barely even looked at the money. "Ma'am, mistakes have consequences. He's coming with us."

"Take him away."

Hannah was shaking with rage, but no matter how much she begged or argued, I didn't budge. I was sticking to my decision.

Because of my "good attitude," I was only given seven days in custody for reflection.

Seven days I couldn't leave the detention center.

Seven days away from her.

And for the first time in ages, I felt something I hadn't in a long time—peace.

In my past life, Hannah had a "true love" named Liam Reed—her childhood sweetheart, the one she never really let go of.

The moment Liam showed up back in town, it was like her heart was immediately pulled in his direction. She was always disappearing, meeting up with him.

One night, after another heated argument, I snapped.

"If you see Liam one more time, we're done. I'll file for divorce."

Without hesitation, she slammed the door and didn't come home that night.

The next day, Liam caused an absolute catastrophe.

Driving recklessly, he hit and killed a woman—an eight-months-pregnant woman.

It was a nightmare.

I begged Liam to do the right thing, to go to the police and take responsibility.

But Liam just smirked. "Who says I did it? It wasn't me. It was you."

At first, I thought it was some sick joke. But when I saw the dashcam footage and the surveillance footage, all of it was clear—my face was everywhere.

I'd been framed.

And no one believed me—not even Hannah.

She told everyone I'd snapped because of our failing marriage and lashed out at the world.

The media ripped me apart, painting me as a monster.

I tried to defend myself, but when the victim's family found me, their grief turned into rage.

One of them stabbed me in front of a crowd.

As I lay there bleeding, I couldn't make sense of any of it.

Why had Liam gone this far to destroy me?