Chapter 2

I woke up to sunlight.

Not hospital light—warm, golden, morning sunlight streaming through familiar curtains.

I sat up so fast the room spun.

This was my old apartment. The one I'd lived in before marrying Derek.

My phone was on the nightstand. I grabbed it.

The date on the screen made my blood run cold.

It was three years ago. The exact morning Derek was supposed to pick me up for our marriage registration.

I looked down at my body. Flat stomach. No C-section scar. No pain.

My hands flew to my abdomen, pressing, searching.

Nothing. No twins. No pregnancy. No proof that any of it had happened.

I stumbled to the bathroom mirror.

The woman staring back at me was twenty-four, bright-eyed, with clear skin and a full, healthy frame. Not the hollow-cheeked skeleton I'd become after three years of Margaret's starvation portions and Derek's neglect.

I gripped the sink and sobbed—not from grief, but from fury.

I remembered everything.

Every humiliation. Every slap from Margaret. Every night Derek came home smelling of another woman's perfume. The eleven minutes with my babies. The wheelchair in the rain. The flatlining heart monitor.

I was dead. And now I was back.

My phone buzzed. A text from Derek: "Morning babe! Picking you up at 10 for the marriage office. Wear something nice. Mom wants photos."

My fingers hovered over the screen.

In my previous life, I'd replied with a heart emoji and spent two hours doing my makeup to impress a woman who would spend the next three years treating me like a servant.

This time, I typed: "Something came up. Can't make it today."

His response was immediate: "What? Mia, we planned this weeks ago. Mom already told everyone."

"Tell your mom I said hi."

I turned off the phone and sat on the bed, my mind racing.

I needed a plan.

First: money. In my previous life, I'd abandoned my career for Derek. This time, that biotech position at Blackwell Industries was still available. The application deadline was tomorrow.

Second: evidence. I knew exactly what Derek's family was—a clan of frauds who maintained their upper-middle-class image through embezzlement and manipulation. I knew where the skeletons were buried because Margaret had been careless around "the help."

Third: my babies. The twins wouldn't be conceived for another two years. But this time, I would never let Derek's family anywhere near them.

I opened my laptop and pulled up my old research files. My graduate thesis on gene-targeted cancer therapy had been cited by three major journals. Before Derek, I'd been somebody.

I found the Blackwell Industries job listing and updated my resume.

Then I opened a new email and typed a message to Dr. Lena Marsh, my former professor, asking for a recommendation letter.

As I hit send, my doorbell rang.

I froze.

Through the peephole, I saw Derek—early, unannounced, holding flowers, wearing his "charming" smile.

The same smile he'd worn when he told me on the curb that our marriage was a transaction.

I opened the door, but only halfway, blocking the entrance with my body.

"You didn't answer my texts," he said, still smiling. "Mom's already at the registration office."

"I'm not going, Derek."

His smile flickered. "What do you mean? We agreed—"

"I changed my mind."

His expression shifted—just slightly, just for a second—and I saw it. The flash of something cold behind his eyes. The same look he'd given me on the day he threw me away.

In my previous life, I'd missed that look entirely.

"Mia, don't be ridiculous. Come on, get dressed."

He reached for my arm.

I stepped back. "Don't touch me. We're done."

The flowers hit the floor. His jaw tightened.

"Is there someone else?" His voice dropped, low and dangerous.

"No. I just finally see you clearly."

I closed the door in his face and locked it.

My heart hammered so hard I thought it might crack my ribs. But beneath the terror, something else burned—something I hadn't felt in years.

Power.