Chapter 4

I stared at my phone screen. The comments section had exploded.

[Is this guy sick? If you don't want to get married, just say so. Is this really necessary?]

[The bride's mom was literally killed by stress. He needs to pay with his life!]

[I heard the groom is still vacationing at the beach. Unbelievable.]

[Wedding turned into a funeral. This guy's life is over.]

My finger scrolling through the screen trembled uncontrollably.

Vanessa's mother... was dead?

That was impossible.

In my past life, when I rushed to the hotel entrance and the flower pot fell, I clearly saw her screaming in horror from the second floor.

I suddenly looked up at the taxi display screen.

June 14th, 2:23 PM.

The driver glanced at me in the rearview mirror. "Young man, you don't look so good."

"Sir, can you go any faster?"

"This is already the fastest." The driver paused. "The Ritz Hotel... I'd advise you to mentally prepare yourself."

My heart skipped a beat. "What do you mean?"

The driver didn't answer. He just silently turned up the music volume.

It was an old song, "The Wedding March."

The gentle, melodious tune felt especially eerie now, giving me goosebumps.

My phone rang again. It was Liam.

"Ethan, where are you? Vanessa's mother... she's really gone." His voice was low. "Come quickly. Vanessa's in bad shape."

I gripped my phone tightly. "Liam, tell me, what day is it today?"

Silence on the other end for a few seconds. "June 21st. Ethan, do you... really need to see a doctor?"

I hung up, opened my camera, and aimed it at a road sign outside the window.

Seaside Boulevard, 15 kilometers from the Ritz Hotel.

The electronic screen on the sign clearly displayed: June 14, Saturday.

I took a photo and sent it to Liam.

He replied quickly. "Is photoshopping fun?" Then another message. "And you're still hung up on the date at this point!"

I turned off my phone and looked out the window.

In the distance, the spire of the Ritz Hotel was faintly visible.

In my past life, the flower pot had fallen from the curved balcony on the fourth floor.

The taxi stopped at the hotel entrance.

I paid, and the driver suddenly called out to me.

"Young man," he lowered his voice, looking at me in the rearview mirror, "don't trust your eyes too much about some things."

I stared at him. "What do you mean?"

The driver had already started the car and only left me with, "Sometimes people even lie to themselves with their own memories."

I stood in front of the hotel's revolving door and took a deep breath.

The lobby was empty. Unexpectedly quiet.

In the distance, I could see a huge welcome sign standing in the center.

The background was a wedding photo of Vanessa and me, with gold lettering:

Groom: Ethan & Bride: Vanessa

Wedding Date: June 21

Seeing this scene, my breathing suddenly quickened. The fear from my past life rampaged through my rationality.

I was certain the accident in my past life was deliberate.

If so, the killer wouldn't show themselves unless I went over.

They might even kill me another way.

My back was already soaked with sweat. I gritted my teeth and charged forward.

Bang!

The flower pot exploded behind me.

Flying ceramic shards cut bloody gashes on my leg.

I had no time to care. I stepped back half a step and glanced up.

The person hurriedly retreated, but I still caught sight of her face.

I thought I knew what was going on.

I steadied myself and quickly scanned my surroundings.

Then a hand pressed on my shoulder from behind.