Chapter 1

When I fell from the nineteenth floor, Caleb Sterling was standing by the window watching me.

His hand hadn’t even pulled back from the motion of pushing me.

His female secretary stood right beside him.

The two of them watched my body disappear into the curtain of rain. It was like watching a pebble drop into a pond, not even worth waiting for the splash.

I died at thirty-one. At the end of a seven-year marriage, my husband and his mistress teamed up to throw me off my own company building.

Then, I woke up.

I was wearing a wedding dress. I was standing in front of a mirror.

My phone buzzed―

“See you tomorrow, wifey.”

1

I had seen those four words on my phone screen before.

In my last life.

During our seven-year marriage, he went from a broke college classmate who couldn’t afford rent to the youngest CEO of a listed company in the city.

I stood behind him from start to finish. I sold my house. I borrowed money. I quit my job to manage his company.

He said when we went public, he would give me a grand wedding. He promised to buy me the biggest diamond ring.

We did have a wedding―tomorrow, in June of my twenty-fifth year.

It wasn’t grand, but it wasn’t cheap either.

He wore a rented tux, and I wore a dress my mom helped me pick out.

The officiant talked about growing old together. Caleb slipped a thin silver band on my finger and said he’d replace it with a diamond later.

Seven years. The ring was never replaced. The grand wedding never happened.

What I got wasn’t a fulfilled promise.

It was a rainy night.

That night, I went to the office to find him.

It wasn’t out of suspicion―it was because the bank called me. They said forty thousand dollars had been transferred out of my personal account.

I rushed to the nineteenth-floor office and pushed the door open.

He was there. So was she―his private assistant, Skylar Reed.

The two of them were standing side by side at the window.

A laptop was open, displaying a stock transfer agreement. The transferor was me. The transferee was him. The signature line bore my name―the handwriting was a near-perfect imitation.

“You forged my signature,” I said, standing in the doorway.

Caleb turned around. No panic. No explanation. Not even a single emotion on his face.

“Lydia,” his voice was eerily calm. “You’re just in time.”

“Give me that agreement―”

Skylar walked over. Her steps in high heels were light, like a cat padding across hardwood floors.

She reached me and grabbed my wrist, dragging me toward the window.

I tried to break free. But her grip was much stronger than it looked.

She shoved me against the windowsill and tilted her head to look at me. A tiny smirk played on her lips.

She said, “Ms. Vance, you’re useless now.”

Then Caleb stepped up and gave me a hard shove from behind.

His hands were large. I didn't even have time to react when he gripped my shoulders.

The next second, my feet were dangling in the air. Rain lashed against my face. Wind forced its way into my mouth. I wanted to scream, but no sound came out.

The fall from the nineteenth floor took about three seconds―I remember counting.

One. The office lights grew distant.

Two. The raindrops couldn't keep up with my speed.

Three.

Then, there was nothing.

So here I am, standing in front of the mirror. Wearing a wedding dress.

Looking at the text from Caleb: “See you tomorrow, wifey.”

In the living room, my bridesmaid was shouting about what time we needed to do makeup tomorrow.

The sun outside was blinding.

The date on my phone read June 4, 2025. The day before our wedding. Seven years ago.

I took a step back. The train of my wedding dress swept across the floor.

The woman in the mirror had glowing skin and no wrinkles. There was no scar on her wrist from clawing at the window frame in my past life.

I was twenty-five. Nothing had happened yet.

My mom’s voice drifted in from the living room. “Lydia, are you done trying on the dress?”

“I’m done,” I heard my own voice say.

I looked down at my hands.

In my previous life, these hands sold my only pre-marital property to give him two hundred thousand dollars in startup capital.

I worked late at his company every night until dawn, doing the books until I developed chronic migraines.

I poured all my savings into him, only to have him and his mistress watch me fall from the nineteenth floor.

I picked up my phone and dialed a number.

“Hello, Mr. Ward. I need you to come to the wedding tomorrow.”

“Lydia?” My mom poked her head in. “I thought you said you weren't going to sign a prenup?”

“I changed my mind.”