The Tenth Life I Gave to Love Him, Was the One He Threw Away Novel – At the wedding reception at Whitmore Manor, when Damian led me toward the beautifully arranged table that hid a deadly secret beneath its elegance, a sudden sense of emptiness washed over me. I had courted him nine times. The first eight all ended with my death—each one orchestrated by his beloved foster sister, Clara Grant.
This time, I had gotten closer to success than ever before. But the glint of the fishing line wound tightly around the clock’s send hand told me everything. Once the hand reached twelve, the wire would pull a hidden trigger beneath the table, launching the crossbow aimed right at me. The warmth of Damian’s hand on my shoulder made my stomach churn.
I wanted to pull away, but he leaned in with a smile and whispered. “Be good, Isabelle. Clara stayed up all night setting up this little timer.” “At worst, you’ll just have to restart the game and win me again next time. I promise I won’t let her mess around anymore.” So, he knew. He knew I had fallen for him nine times. He knew I had died again and again because of Clara’s “pranks.” But what he didn’t know… was that this was my last chance. … I sat down, dazed, thinking maybe it was better this way. Maybe dying meant no more pain.
Ten seconds left. Clara raised her glass and called for everyone to toast to congratulate Damian and me on our “happy marriage.” Everyone stood, smiling warmly, offering their blessings. But their voices blurred together into a low hum, and my vision began to fade. Damian tugged me upright, positioning me so my forehead lined up perfectly with the crossbow’s trigger hidden beneath the clock, ensuring that I would die in this moment of supposed happiness.
Staring at the black hole that would soon devour me, I began counting silently in my head. Ten, nine, eight, seven… Clara’s face gleamed with excitement, and Damian’s eyes softened as he gazed at her, full of affection, as if she were some innocent child. …Four, three, two, one, zero! The arrow shot out like a viper, whistling through the air. Terror gripped me, and I instinctively turned my head. A searing pain exploded in my ear.
The cheerful atmosphere froze. Silence fell over the hall. When Clara saw her little “assassination trick” had failed, she slammed her glass to the floor, crimson wine splashing across my white dress. “What were you moving around for?! Do you have any idea how much effort it took me to recreate the setup from The Wedding Murder? You ruined everything!” Damian released my hand in frustration. “I told you to stay still! Clara didn’t sleep all night for this.
Couldn’t you at least show her a little compassion?” “Compassion? For staying up all night to kill me?” “You—” Damian lowered his voice, visibly irritated. “It’s not like you really die.” But I felt pain. The guests, still holding their glasses midair, looked lost and frightened. The room stayed frozen until a small, trembling voice broke the silence. “Isabelle’s ear is bleeding!” Blood and tears streamed down my face together.
Several women rushed over with handkerchiefs, trying to stop the bleeding. Only then did Damian reluctantly grab my arm. “Come on. We’ll go to the hospital.” I laughed bitterly to myself. What was I to them, a toy? Something to torment again and again for their amusement? I had been strangled once, tied with a rope from neck to ankles while Clara giggled beside me.
Another time, she tricked me into a dark, cramped room filled with hissing sounds, until I suffocated against the wall, realizing too late that it was the sound of an inflatable castle filling with air.