Chapter 1

The world came back with the taste of asphalt and blood.

My head pounded. I remembered the screech of tires, the blinding headlights, and a crushing impact that threw me into darkness.

A staged hit-and-run. My stepfather' s final, neat solution.

But I wasn't on cold pavement. I was in my bed, in my silk pajamas, the morning sun streaming through the windows of my Charleston home.

My breath hitched. I grabbed my phone from the nightstand. The date stared back at me. The day of my wedding. The day I died.

I threw the covers off, my feet hitting the cold hardwood floor. A wave of dizziness washed over me, the phantom pain of broken bones echoing through my body.

It couldn' t be real. It had to be a nightmare.

I ran to my walk-in closet, my heart hammering against my ribs. I needed to see it. I needed proof.

The closet door was ajar. And there she was.

My stepsister, Brielle Thorne.

She stood in front of the full-length mirror, her back to me. She was wearing my wedding dress. The custom couture gown that was meant for me. Her hands smoothed over the delicate lace, a smug smile playing on her lips.

The sight was a physical blow. The memory of my first life crashed down on me. Her wearing this dress, marrying my fiancé, Julian Croft, while I was drugged and locked away. My stepfather, Senator Richard Thorne, disowning me in front of everyone. The humiliation. The murder.

It was all real.

A raw, guttural sound escaped my throat.

Brielle turned, her smile faltering for a second before it hardened into a look of pure annoyance.

"What are you doing up so early?" she asked, her voice dripping with false sweetness.

"Take it off," I said. My voice was a hoarse whisper.

"What?"

"I said, take my dress off. Now."

She laughed, a short, ugly sound. "Don't be so dramatic, Elara. I was just making sure it was perfect for you."

"You're a liar," I stated, the words cold and heavy. "You were admiring yourself. You were pretending it was yours."

Her eyes narrowed. "So what if I was? It looks better on me anyway. You're too plain for a dress like this."

The rage that had been simmering inside me boiled over. I lunged forward, my hands reaching for the priceless fabric.

"Get it off!"