My Wife's Life Insurance Plot

My name is William Pearson. I once thought I had an ordinary but peaceful home. Until that afternoon, the doorbell rang urgently, shattering the calm in the house. When I opened the door, it was the delivery guy in a blue courier uniform, holding a torn-open package, his face flushed bright red. "Sir, your wife Sylvia Lawrence bought a genuine bag from our platform, but what was returned was a defective product. We need an explanation." The delivery guy's voice was angry, but he tried to keep it under control. Just as I was about to speak, Sylvia suddenly rushed out of the living room, pointing right at the delivery guy's nose and yelling. "What nonsense are you spouting? I returned exactly the goods you sent. You're clearly passing off defective products as genuine, and now you want to scam me?" The delivery guy, angered by her attitude, responded in a sterner tone: "Don't be unreasonable! We verified everything when the package was signed for. The defective product's code isn't even from our platform. You're committing fraud!" Sylvia Lawrence sneered, deliberately leaning forward and using harsher words to provoke him: "So what if I'm committing fraud? You're just a delivery guy. Who do you think you are, trying to boss me around? I think you're just desperate, trying to scam money!" I looked at Sylvia Lawrence's unreasonable attitude and felt a sudden discomfort, wanting to grab her and have a serious talk. But before I could reach out, the delivery guy suddenly pulled a knife from his pocket, his eyes turning fierce. "You've gone too far! This isn't over today!" My heart tightened, and instinctively I stepped in front of Sylvia Lawrence. At that moment, Sylvia Lawrence suddenly shoved me hard, and I lost control, falling toward the delivery guy. The sharp knife slashed across my abdomen, pain shooting through me instantly as fresh blood ran down my stomach. I turned around in shock to look at Sylvia Lawrence. There was no worry on her face, only a strange, eerie smile. Before I could react, Sylvia slammed the door shut and locked it from the inside. "Sylvia! Open the door! Hurry up and open it!" Clutching my bleeding abdomen, I pounded on the door, my voice trembling with pain and fear. I heard the delivery guy's frantic footsteps down the corridor—he must have been terrified—before quickly disappearing from the hallway. Leaning against the door, the pain in my abdomen grew unbearable; blood soaked through my clothes and dripped from my fingertips onto the floor. I called Sylvia Lawrence's name over and over, but there was no response from behind the door. I could hear her moving around inside, but not a single word of concern, nor any sign that she intended to call the police or an ambulance. My consciousness gradually faded, the dizziness from blood loss growing stronger, and the last thing I saw was Sylvia's cold eyes peering through the crack in the door. I refused to accept it. How could I just die like this, without any explanation? Carrying that refusal with me, I finally lost consciousness. When I opened my eyes again, I found myself lying on the living room sofa, sunlight streaming through the window, warm and comforting. I sat up abruptly, instinctively touching my abdomen—smooth and unscarred, with no pain at all. The calendar on the wall showed the date—the very day I was scratched by the delivery guy—but the time was two hours earlier than when it actually happened. Had I been reborn? That thought flashed through my mind. First, I was shocked, then overwhelmed by a mix of immense relief and anger. I was relieved that I hadn't really died, but furious that Sylvia Lawrence could be so heartless—willing to sacrifice my life for her own benefit. This time, I won't be as foolish as I was in my past life, letting Sylvia manipulate me. I'll protect myself and make her pay for what she's done.