Chapter 1

I set up my phone on a tripod right in front of the Metropolitan General Hospital's ER entrance.

The viewer count in my livestream was exploding. I grabbed a heavy metal trash can from beside a fire hydrant and slammed it into a black Mercedes parked in the no-parking zone.

The comments section went wild. People were shouting "She's insane!" and "Call the cops!" I just opened my arms wide to the security guards and nurses rushing out of the building.

"Hurry, arrest me. Take me to the police station right now."

In my past life, I was the perfect sacrificial lamb for my stepsister and my fiancé.

They embezzled a fortune from the company to pay off their gambling debts. They used my ID and forged my signature, making me the only one to take the fall.

I had worked as an accountant for five years. In the end, I became a prisoner of the very laws I knew so well.

During my three years in prison, my parents' hair turned white from grief. Eventually, they both died in a suspicious "accident."

I thought I could find the truth after my release. But on the day I walked out of the prison gates, a truck they hired crushed me to death.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day they were preparing to flee with the money.

Since they can forge evidence of my crimes, I will create an "alibi" that the entire country can witness.

1

I stood by the public charging station in front of the ER. My livestream had been running for fifteen minutes.

The comments were flooding in like a tide. "Is the host sick?" "This is a hospital, stop it!" "I've already called the police!"

I picked up the half-full metal trash can again. I aimed it at the black Mercedes that was arrogantly blocking the ambulance lane.

The first hit shattered the windshield.

The second hit dented the hood.

The third hit deformed the car door.

I kept smashing it, over and over. My movements were fast and ruthless.

The livestream chat completely exploded. Some people started digging up my account info, while others recorded the screen for evidence.

I curled my lips into a smirk.

This was exactly the effect I wanted.

I stood on the roof of the car, ready to smash the sunroof. Suddenly, the wail of a police siren echoed from the corner.

I threw the mangled trash can aside and cursed at the camera. "Remember this time: March 15th, 3:17 PM. Selene Miller is intentionally destroying property here."

Two security guards and a doctor in a white coat rushed over. The lead guard tried to grab my phone.

I raised my hands voluntarily. I shouted at the top of my lungs, "I smashed the car! Arrest me! I'm not even done yet!"

The young guard looked confused. "Are you going through something? We can talk this out!"

"Talk my foot," I said, shaking off his hand. I ran toward the police car that had just pulled up. "Lock me up! I want to go to jail!"

They looked at each other in disbelief. They had probably never seen a criminal so eager to be caught.

In the interrogation room, I was incredibly arrogant.

I insisted that I smashed the car on purpose. I refused to pay any damages and demanded to be detained.

"Do you know what being detained means?" The middle-aged officer in charge of the report tried to reason with me.

I counted on my fingers. "The repair costs plus emotional distress should be enough for at least five days in a cell, right?"

The officer looked up sharply. "You really want to go in?"

"Why wouldn't I?" I smirked. "It's better than staying outside and getting hurt by people."

They probably thought I had a mental breakdown, so they contacted my family.

My mother called three times. I blocked her number immediately.

"Tell the car owner I refuse to settle. I won't pay a dime," I said, leaning back in my chair. "Just follow the procedure. I'm ready to sign."

When I was finally locked in the holding cell, the electronic clock on the wall read 3:52 PM.

In my last life, Caleb Sterling was currently using my spare iris-scanning glasses to unlock the server. Lydia Hayes was using my ID card, which she stole from the locker room, to copy transfer authorization forms.

Every piece of evidence pointed to me being at the scene.

They banked on me being in the suburbs for an audit today. They banked on the fact that no one could prove I wasn't at the office.

But now, I was in a police station cell.

The cameras, the officers, and the seventy thousand viewers on my livestream were my strongest alibi.

I remembered the courtroom in my previous life. Caleb had held up the authorization form "I" signed and told the judge that Selene used her position to steal funds.

I had been speechless back then. The memory made my throat tighten with rage.

This time, I want to see how they explain it.

How can a woman locked in a cell transfer eighty million dollars?