Chapter 1

The first thing I felt was a dull ache behind my eyes, a throbbing that spread through my skull. Then sounds, muffled at first, then sharpening into the rhythmic beep of a machine and the rustle of starched fabric. My eyelids fluttered open to a blurry white ceiling. Hospital. The smell of antiseptic confirmed it.

A car accident. Flashes came back – headlights, screeching tires, a sickening crunch.

But underneath the physical pain, something else churned. Nightmares. Vivid, terrifying images that felt more like memories. Me, dead. Michael, my husband, marrying my sister, Jessica. My whole life, my work, my identity, systematically erased, forgotten. Jessica, triumphant. My mother, Karen, beaming at her favored daughter. These weren't just bad dreams; they felt like a window into a horrifying truth, a life I' d already lived and lost.

A calendar on the wall swam into focus. October 17th. Weeks had passed since the accident. Partial amnesia, the doctor would later explain, about the crash itself. But the "premonitions," as the outline called them, were crystal clear, a cold dread settling in my bones. This was my second chance, wasn't it? A chance to stop that future.

"She's awake! Finally." My mother's voice, sharp and laced with impatience, cut through the quiet. Karen Hayes stood at the foot of my bed, arms crossed, her expression more annoyed than relieved. "Took you long enough, Sarah. Do you know how much trouble this has caused?"

Trouble. Not concern for my well-being, but inconvenience. The familiar sting of her disapproval was dulled by a new, cold resolve. The premonitions had shown me the full extent of her bias, Jessica's manipulations. I wasn't the responsible, accommodating Sarah anymore. That Sarah died in those visions.

"I was in a coma, Mother," I said, my voice raspy. "Not on vacation."

She scoffed. "Always so dramatic. Jessica has been worried sick. We all have. And Michael, poor Michael, has been beside himself."

I saw it then, the well-worn path of their family dynamic. Jessica, the delicate flower, needing constant care and attention. Me, the difficult, ungrateful one. The premonitions showed me this pattern playing out until my end. Not this time.

"I'm sure Jessica managed," I said, my tone flat. "She always does."

Karen' s eyes narrowed. "What's that supposed to mean? You should be grateful. Your sister even offered to look into that journalism grant for you, the one you were so obsessed with before... this. She thought maybe she could handle it, keep it in the family if you weren't up to it."

The Pioneer Grant. My lifeline, my dream. Jessica, who feigned interest only when it benefited her. The premonitions screamed a warning: Jessica wanted that grant to sabotage me. She feared me winning it. The accident... a suspicion, cold and sharp, pierced through the fog in my head.

"No," I said, the word clear and firm despite my dry throat. "The grant is mine. I'll handle it."

My mother looked taken aback by my directness. This wasn't the Sarah she knew, the one who usually folded under pressure.

Just then, Michael Thompson, my husband, walked in. He looked tired, his usually neat hair slightly disheveled. "Sarah? You're awake?" Relief flickered in his eyes, quickly followed by a cautious, almost hesitant expression.

"See, Michael?" Karen immediately turned to him, her voice dripping with manufactured concern. "She's already being difficult. Talking about some grant when she can barely sit up. I told her Jessica could help."

Michael looked from me to my mother, his brow furrowed. "Mom, let her rest. Sarah, how are you feeling?" He came closer, but his eyes avoided mine for a fraction too long.

"The grant, Michael," Karen pressed, ignoring his attempt to deflect. "Jessica thinks she could write some community stories, something less demanding for Sarah right now."

Michael sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Maybe your mother has a point, Sarah. You need to recover. That grant is a huge undertaking." He was already siding with them, or at least, trying to placate them. The old Sarah would have been hurt. The new Sarah felt a grim sort of validation.

I looked at him, really looked at him. The premonitions had shown me his weakness, how easily Jessica and Karen swayed him. He wasn't malicious, just... weak. And his weakness had paved the road to my destruction in that other life.

"I remember something, Michael," I said, my voice steady. "Divorce papers. In your desk. You had them drafted."

The premonitions had shown me this too, a detail from a bitter argument months before the accident.

He blinked, startled. "What? Sarah, that was... that was from a bad argument months ago. It meant nothing. I never filed them. You must be confused from the accident." He sounded dismissive, but a flicker of something – guilt? – crossed his face.

My mother gasped. "Divorce? Sarah, are you trying to destroy this family completely?"

I ignored her. My gaze stayed on Michael. He thought I was unstable, confused. Good. Let them underestimate me. The premonitions were my armor now, my chilling clarity. I knew what they were capable of. And I knew what I had to do. Reclaim my life. Divorce Michael. Expose Jessica. And get that grant. No apologies.