Chapter 1

The pain hit me, sharp and familiar.

I gasped, my eyes flying open.

This room. This bed. The sterile smell.

It was the birthing suite on our Texas estate, the one Ethan had insisted on.

But it shouldn' t be. I should be dead.

My hand flew to my stomach, round and tight. The baby was still there.

This was the day. The day my first child was due. The day everything went to hell in my last life.

A cold dread washed over me.

I remembered. Every horrifying detail.

Ethan, away on business. My mother, Eleanor, abandoning me in labor.

She left for Brittany' s eighteenth birthday party. Her precious adopted daughter.

Brittany, drunk, crashing her car, dying.

Eleanor' s face, twisted with hate, blaming me.

The christening. The poisoned food. Ethan, just returned, collapsing. My baby, lifeless. All our guests.

Then Eleanor, dragging me, dying, to Brittany' s grave.

Her screams. "You and your family will pay!"

Her hands around my throat. Darkness.

I was back. Reborn.

The clock on the wall showed it was early morning.

"Rosa!" I croaked, my voice raw.

My loyal housekeeper, Rosa, rushed in, her face etched with concern.

"Mrs. Sarah, are you alright? Is it time?"

"Yes," I said, my mind racing. "Call Dr. Peterson. Ethan' s specialist. Get him here now. And Rosa, do not call my mother. Do not let Eleanor know."

Rosa looked surprised but nodded. "Right away, Mrs. Sarah."

She hurried out.

A few minutes later, a different woman entered. Older, with a severe face I knew too well.

Nurse Gretchen.

Eleanor' s creature. Brittany' s biological mother, though I hadn' t known that last time until it was too late.

"Good morning, Sarah," Nurse Gretchen said, her voice falsely sweet. "Your mother, Eleanor, has made all the arrangements. I'll be taking care of you."

My blood ran cold.

Eleanor knew. She had to be reborn too.

This was her pre-emptive strike.

"Where is Dr. Peterson?" I demanded, trying to keep the tremor from my voice.

"Dr. Peterson is unavailable," Gretchen said smoothly. "Mrs. Thompson felt it best you were in a quieter wing of the estate, with dedicated care. Just you and me."

Isolated. Just like before.

"Your mother is very keen to get to Brittany' s birthday party on time, you know," Gretchen added, a small, cruel smile playing on her lips. "She said not to dally."

The same words. The same chilling indifference.

Another contraction seized me, stronger this time. I gritted my teeth.

Eleanor was already setting her stage, determined to repeat her twisted play.

The memory of her poisoning everyone, her murderous rage at Brittany's grave, flashed through my mind.

She blamed me for Brittany' s death. A death caused by Brittany' s own recklessness.

Eleanor' s logic was a black hole of malice.

She had killed my husband, my child, our friends, and then me.

All because her spoiled, adopted daughter died in an accident.

The depth of her cruelty was bottomless.

This time, I wouldn't be her victim.