Chapter 1

My eyes snapped open, a gasp caught in my throat.

The ceiling was white, unfamiliar.

Then, the memories flooded back, a tidal wave of horror.

The SATs, the accusation of a cheating ring, the micro-earpiece they said was mine.

The "hired test-taker" pointing a shaking finger at me.

Digital money trails, all leading to me, all fake.

My arrest, the shame burning my face.

Mom and Dad, their faces etched with a pain I caused, their teaching licenses gone, their reputations ruined.

The news reports, the online hate, relentless.

Then, the accident, or was it? Their car, crumpled. Their lives, gone.

My heart, already broken, just stopped. A sudden, final ache.

I died.

But I was awake.

I sat up, my heart pounding, a wild, frantic drum against my ribs.

June 6th. The digital clock on the bedside table glowed with the date.

The day before the SATs.

I was in a hotel room, not my bedroom.

Brittany.

She was stirring in the other bed, my childhood best friend.

"Ash? You okay? You shot up like you saw a ghost."

Her voice, usually sweet, now sent a chill down my spine.

This hotel, near the test center. "For convenience," she'd said.

In my previous life, the hired test-taker was supposedly found in my hotel room.

My scholarship to Yale, already secured, meant nothing then. It wouldn't mean anything now if I let things repeat.

"Brittany," I said, my voice raspy, "I can't stay here."

She frowned, pushing her blonde hair from her eyes. "What? Why? We planned this."

"I just... I have a bad feeling," I improvised, "I won't sleep well in a strange bed before the test, I need to be home."

Her eyes narrowed, just for a second, then the concerned friend mask slipped back on.

"Oh, Ash, are you sure? It' s so much easier from here."

She was pushing, too hard.

"I'm sure," I said, trying to keep my voice steady, "I'll just go home, get a good night's sleep in my own bed."

She sighed, a little too dramatically. "Okay, if you insist, but it' s a pain to change plans now."

She feigned understanding, but I saw the flicker of annoyance.

I grabbed my bag, not even bothering to unpack what little I' d brought.

"I'll see you tomorrow, maybe," I said, a lie. I wouldn't be anywhere near those SATs.

I didn't go home.

Home was where my parents were, and I couldn't face them yet, not until I had a plan, a real one.

Instead, I walked until I found it, "The Night Owl Cafe," a 24-hour coffee shop known for quiet corners and decent Wi-Fi.

My alibi. I would stay here, visible, for the entire testing period.

No SATs, no hotel room, no setup.

This time, things would be different.