Chapter 2

I gasped, sitting bolt upright. The Corgi. It was right there, sniffing my hand, same scruffy fur, same hopeful eyes. I was back. Back at the moment I first found him, on the street near my office. My heart hammered against my ribs. Jessica. The balcony. The fall. It wasn't a dream. It was real. And now… now I was here again. The Corgi whined, nudging my leg. Just then, Jessica walked out of our office building. "Oh, Chloe, look! A Corgi! How cute!" Her eyes lit up, but there was something else there too, a flicker of… recognition? Before, I’d hesitated, then decided to take him. This time, I stepped back. "You know, Jess, I think he likes you more." I nudged the Corgi towards her. Jessica’s smile was instant, possessive. "Oh, do you think so? Well, hello there, little guy!" She scooped him up. "I'll take him. Maybe he's a good luck charm." She winked, but her eyes were sharp, knowing. She knew. She remembered too. How? As she walked away, cooing at the dog, a strange sensation flooded my mind. Not words, exactly. More like a feeling, an understanding. *Second chance. One opportunity. Catalyst event: death of a key individual.* A karmic boon. My death, Jessica’s betrayal… it had triggered something. I had one chance to reset a dire situation, or exchange it for a blessing. But what situation? What blessing? And what did "death of a key individual" mean? Jessica was alive. I was alive.

Jessica paraded the Corgi around the office the next day. "Isn't he adorable? I'm calling him Lucky." And just like before, her luck started. Or rather, what should have been *my* luck. Mr. Henderson called her into his office. "Jessica," he boomed, loud enough for me to hear, "Eleanor Vance just called. She saw your picture with that Corgi on your social media. She wants to meet you." Jessica smirked at me as she walked past my desk. I kept my face neutral. The K-Corp account, which I had been subtly working on again, was suddenly "reassigned" to Jessica after she "pitched a brilliant new angle" to Mr. Henderson – an angle I’d discussed with her in my previous life. This Corgi wasn't a good luck charm. It was a magnet for Eleanor Vance. And Eleanor Vance was trouble. I started digging. Ethan Vance. The handsome, unseen son. It took some discreet online searching, a few carefully worded calls to old college contacts who worked in society gossip columns. The truth was horrifying. Ethan Vance wasn't "unavailable due to private matters." He was comatose. A reckless, hedonistic lifestyle had led to a near-fatal accident a year ago. He’d been on life support ever since. Eleanor was obsessed with "reviving" him. Not medically. Spiritually. She was involved with a shady spiritualist, someone who promised he could bring Ethan back. The ritual required a "woman of pure life essence." A virgin. To conceive a child. Ethan's spirit would then be transferred to the child. The mother? Her life force would be drained. She would die. The Corgi… it wasn't just a dog. It was a conduit. A familiar. Essential for the ritual. And for sensing that "pure life essence." In my first life, that was me.