Chapter 1

The attic room was cold, the same peeling yellow wallpaper greeted me. I knew the dusty smell too well.

This was my ninth life.

A voice, flat and digital, echoed in my head, not my ears, but inside, a cold presence.

"Objective: Secure Caroline Hawthorne's genuine, exclusive romantic devotion."

I lay still on the lumpy mattress, what was the use of moving?

Eight times I had tried to win her, eight times I had failed, and eight times I had died.

The memories were sharp, not like dreams, but like fresh wounds.

My first death: Caroline found my diary, the one where I' d stupidly written down my feelings for her. She locked me in the old wine cellar on the estate. It was a harsh New England winter, and the cold seeped into my bones until I stopped feeling anything. Hypothermia, they called it.

The second: She pretended to soften, took me sailing on the Long Island Sound. Derek, her new favorite then too, feigned jealousy, threatened to leave her. To appease him, she pushed me overboard. The water was freezing, my clothes dragged me down.

The third was more elaborate. Derek framed me for leaking Hawthorne Corp. data, I was actually trying to show Caroline his sabotage. She had me arrested. Derek' s contacts in prison made sure I didn' t last long. A shank in the yard.

And the eighth, the worst. Caroline, in some twisted game, agreed to a sham engagement with me. At our party, Derek cried, accused me of manipulating her. Caroline, her eyes glinting, said she wanted to "see the truth of his heart." Her security guards sedated me. I woke up during some illicit, botched medical procedure. She watched, her face unreadable, as I bled out. The pain was immense, the betrayal absolute.

"Failure in this iteration will result in permanent dissolution," the System' s voice added, devoid of any emotion.

Permanent dissolution. No more chances.

This time, I was broken. I just wanted it to be over, to die and stay dead. I ignored the System.

The attic door creaked open. Caroline Hawthorne stood there, beautiful, powerful, her presence filling the small room. Derek Vance, her much younger fiancé, was beside her, his arm possessively around her waist.

Caroline' s eyes, cold as the Connecticut winter, scanned me. She was pregnant, her hand resting on her stomach. Derek' s child.

"Derek's moving in permanently," Caroline announced, her voice crisp.

"You'll prepare his meals. Low-sodium, organic, four times a day. His prize-winning show dog, a delicate creature, needs your room. It' s warmer. You'll sleep in the old gardener's shed from now on."

She paused, her gaze dismissive.

"And get out of Derek's sight. You're an eyesore."

She then kicked my leg, a sharp, deliberate motion. It wasn't hard enough to break bone, just enough to humiliate.

I slowly got up, my body aching from the memory of past pains as much as the kick. I started packing my few belongings into a worn duffel bag. There wasn't much. Old clothes, a couple of worn paperbacks.

My fingers brushed against a small, framed photograph. It was of Caroline, taken years ago, shortly after she' d adopted me. She was smiling, a genuine, warm smile, her eyes soft as she looked at me, a ten-year-old orphan. She had been my savior then.

That kindness vanished the year I turned eighteen. I' d confessed my feelings for her, a stupid, hopeful teenage crush.

"Disgusting," she' d said, her voice laced with contempt. That was the before. This cruelty was the after.

The memory was a raw ache. I stared at the smiling woman in the photo, a ghost of someone who no longer existed, or perhaps never had.

I threw the photo into the dusty trash can in the corner. The glass cracked.

"Warning: Abandoning the objective will accelerate permanent dissolution," the System' s voice cut in, sharp and urgent.

I ignored it. Let it accelerate. I wanted out, even if out meant oblivion. I zipped the duffel bag and headed for the door, ready to walk away from the Hawthorne estate, from Caroline, from the System, from everything.