Chapter 4

Jessica' s appetite for Ethan' s money grew with each passing day.

It started with designer coffees and expensive lunches.

Then it was concert tickets for some pop star I' d never heard of. Front row, of course.

A new phone, the latest model.

Spa days with her equally materialistic friends.

Ethan, desperate to maintain his image as the big shot, the guy who had it all figured out, scrambled to keep up.

His "past-life knowledge" apparently didn't include a winning lottery ticket.

He was always on his phone, hushed conversations, furtive glances.

I saw him once behind the bleachers, arguing with a guy twice his size, a guy with dead eyes and cheap tattoos.

A loan shark, I guessed.

The reselling of hyped sneakers wasn't cutting it anymore. Online gambling probably wasn't either.

One afternoon, I was studying in the library when Mrs. Miller, Ethan' s mom, came in.

She looked frantic, her eyes red-rimmed.

She spotted me, hesitated, then walked over.

"Maya, dear," she said, her voice trembling. "Have you seen Ethan? He... he took my purse this morning. There was a lot of cash in it. For the mortgage."

My heart sank for her. She was a good woman, always kind to me when Ethan and I were kids.

"I haven't seen him since school, Mrs. Miller."

"He' s been so... different," she whispered, tears welling up. "Talking about guaranteed success, how he knows everything. But his grades... and now this."

I wanted to tell her. Tell her about the rebirth, about Ethan' s true nature.

But how could I? She' d think I was insane.

"I'm sure he'll turn up, Mrs. Miller," I said, trying to sound reassuring.

She just shook her head, a look of utter despair on her face.

Ethan was financing Jessica' s greed by destroying his own family.

The irony was bitter. In his first life, his legitimate success had funded a lavish lifestyle for Jessica.

Now, his foreknowledge was leading him down a path of petty crime and desperation, all to impress a girl who wouldn' t give him a second look if the money dried up.

Jessica, meanwhile, flaunted her new acquisitions.

A designer handbag, probably a knock-off Ethan bought with stolen money, was her new favorite accessory.

She' d swing it around, making sure everyone saw the logo.

"Ethan is just so generous," she' d trill to anyone who would listen. "He knows how to treat a girl."

Her affection was directly proportional to the price tag of his latest gift.

It was a sickening display.

And Ethan, blinded by his arrogance and his obsession with a future he thought was guaranteed, couldn't see he was being played.

Or maybe he did, and he just didn't care, as long as he had Jessica on his arm, validating his twisted sense of destiny.

Their toxic relationship was a train wreck in slow motion.

And I had a front-row seat.