The Comments Are All Telling Me Not to Look Back

The day I transmigrated into the wife of an abusive-romance novel, someone pushed a "Property Waiver Declaration" in front of me.

The man across from me didn't even look up. "Sign it. I have a meeting afterward."

Before I could react, a line of translucent text burst into view:

"Don't sign!!! There's a blank authorization form hidden inside the third page!!!"

I turned to the third page and pulled out a sheet of paper. Signing it would make it effective immediately, no notarization required.

I turned the sheet around and faced him with it. "Mr. Shen, you didn't mention this when you asked me to sign the declaration."

For the first time, he saw something different in my eyes.

The comments told me that in the original novel, I signed, left with nothing, and even my father's medical team was dismissed.

I didn't sign. I used that blank authorization form as leverage, checked serial numbers, traced old records, took odd jobs, and wrote scripts, reclaiming every debt owed to me, one by one.