Chapter 1

The Thanksgiving engagement party was a blur of gold and flashing lights, even in memory. Ethan, my fiancé, beamed, his arm around me, the other holding a microphone to his perfect teeth.

"To Ava," he announced to his thousands of live-stream followers, "and to our future."

He presented a suitcase, supposedly stuffed with $250,000 cash, an "engagement gift." Then a ring, a "10-carat" diamond that blinded everyone.

The applause was deafening. I smiled, a genuine, happy smile. That was my first life.

Days later, the smiles died. I walked into our new apartment, the one we were supposed to fill with love, and found Ethan with Chloe, my best friend, my maid of honor.

They weren't even sorry.

I tried to give back the ring, the money. "I can't marry you," I whispered, shattered.

Ethan laughed. Chloe smirked.

"The money?" Ethan said, opening the suitcase. "Oh, this?"

He fanned out the bills. Mostly prop money, "FOR MOTION PICTURE USE ONLY" stamped on them. A few real hundreds on top.

My blood ran cold.

Then they flipped it. I was the thief, they screamed. I had swapped the cash.

Their social media campaign was swift, brutal. I was a gold digger, a liar.

Legal fees bankrupted me. Friends vanished. The world turned its back.

Anxiety became my shadow.

Then, a snowstorm, a desolate parking lot. Figures emerged from the swirling snow, faces contorted with hate. Ethan's fans, radicalized, convinced I had destroyed their idol.

The last thing I felt was the cold, then a sharp, searing pain, then nothing.

I woke with a gasp, heart hammering.

Sunlight streamed through my bedroom window. My bedroom. My old bedroom.

The date on my phone: Thanksgiving morning.

The day of the engagement party.

The trauma was a living thing inside me, coiling in my stomach. I was back.

I had a second chance.

And this time, I wouldn't be the victim.

This time, they would pay.