A blinding white light. The sharp, sterile smell of antiseptic. I jolted awake, my heart hammering against my ribs. I wasn' t dead.
My body was whole. I instinctively touched my side. No scar. No phantom ache where my kidney used to be. My skin was smooth and unbroken.
"Where am I?" I croaked, my voice raw.
"Ava? You' re awake. Thank God."
It was my manager, Brenda, her face etched with worry. We weren' t in a hospital room after a fall. We were backstage at the CMA Awards. The cheap champagne in a plastic cup on the table next to me confirmed it.
"You fainted on the red carpet," Brenda said, handing me a bottle of water. "Exhaustion, the doctor said. You' re a trending topic on Twitter, by the way. Not in a good way."
I ignored her. I scrambled for my phone. The date on the screen stared back at me. June 4th. One month. I was one month in the past. One month before the Fourth of July. One month before they would take my kidney.
The fall. The bridge. Liam.
He died. He died for me. A man whose name I only knew for a minute.
My breath hitched. I wasn' t just given a second chance to save myself. I was given a second chance to save him.
The memory of his horrified eyes, his desperate plea, his selfless sacrifice, was burned into my mind. He was the only person who showed me an ounce of genuine kindness in my final moments. I owed him a life.
"Brenda," I said, my voice eerily calm. "Cancel my next month of appearances."
"What? Ava, you can' t. You have the duet promo with Chase, the album launch..."
"Cancel it," I repeated, my tone leaving no room for argument. "I have something more important to do."
I stood up, my legs steady. The girl who fainted on the red carpet from stress and heartbreak was gone. The woman who stood there now had seen the end. She knew what was coming. And she was going to change it.
My new mission was crystal clear.
First, I would live. Second, I would make them pay.
And third, most importantly, I would find Liam Sullivan and I would keep him safe. No matter what it took.