Chapter 2

2

In my previous life, I had tried to save Jason. After he pushed me to the ground, I fought with the kidnappers, ending with one of them slamming my head against the pavement. The resulting brain damage put me in a vegetative state. Thinking I was dead, they left me there. Jason, who had promised to send help, didn't reappear until nightfall.

I became a prisoner in my own body, able to understand but unable to respond. My parents were devastated. Within a year, they aged a decade. Meanwhile, Jason, the one I sacrificed everything for, brought home Ashley the following year, presenting her to my parents as someone who would care for them in their old age. He exploited their guilt to pave the way for Ashley.

I was forced to watch as Ashley flaunted everything that should have been mine, eventually inheriting my parents' estate after they passed. On the eve of their wedding, I finally felt the flicker of consciousness returning. But Jason and Ashley, putting on a show of concern, noticed. Jason held my face down while he yanked out my oxygen tube. Ashley offered him a pillow. They pinned my hands down as I suffocated, listening to their chilling words:

"Finding a new identity for Ashley has been a real pain. We're so close. I can't let you ruin everything. You spent ten years as a vegetable for me, you can die for me too, can't you? If you wake up, you'll want Ashley's inheritance!"

I didn't understand their cruelty, their assumption that I'd want something that was rightfully mine. If I hadn't saved him, none of this would have happened. Fate offered no reprieve. No one came. I died in agony, suffocated.

Reborn, I wasn't about to make the same mistake twice. Jason should pray he never returned. Because compared to facing my wrath, a quiet descent into hell and reincarnation would be far more merciful.

Back home, I snuck in through the back entrance, took the service elevator to the basement, and then rode up to the fourth floor, where I changed my clothes. Calling the police? Not a chance.

At 7 p.m., we sat down for dinner. My parents worked hard, but when they weren't busy, they always cooked together. The familiar flavors brought tears to my eyes. I had lost ten years, unable to care for my parents, all for that monster.

A knock echoed through the house. Jason's parents' anxious voices drifted in: "Jason hasn't come home. Have you seen him, Claire?"

Feigning confusion, I replied, "I've been practicing piano all day. I haven't seen him. Maybe he just lost track of time?"

Mr. Smith's face was ashen. "We saw him heading south on the security cameras, but we can't find him anywhere. That little rascal is trying to give us heart attacks!"

"Maybe we should call the police. Get everyone looking," my mom suggested.

She ushered Mrs. Smith, who was now in tears, over to the sofa. "Don't worry. Jason's a bit mischievous. He's probably just playing somewhere and lost track of time."

Soon, my parents organized a search party from our neighborhood. I knew Jason was probably already snatched. I smirked, thinking how amateur those kidnappers were. With today's technology, even if I remembered their faces, they could still get the ransom. They could just gain weight, lose weight, whatever. In a few years, who would remember?

"You seem awfully cheerful."

I froze. Behind me stood Ethan Smith, Jason's half-brother. He must have been brought along for the search. Talk about convenient. I wouldn't have to waste time finding him.

"You and Jason were close. Now he's missing and you're smiling. Did you do something?" Two pre-teens, sizing each other up.