Chapter 1

On the day my son died, I was reborn.

The morning light of Chicago streamed through the blinds, the same way it did before. It was a painful echo of a day I never wanted to live again.

My son, Leo, was supposed to have his scholarship interview at Northwestern today. A full ride. His entire future.

In my previous life, that future ended with the sound of his body hitting the pavement.

Then they came for me.

My husband, Mark, his face a mask of grief, told the cameras I was a monster, a controlling mother who couldn't let her son go.

My best friend, Chloe, Leo' s godmother, provided the proof. A doctored video of me, ranting, shoving papers into Leo' s portfolio. The very portfolio I had rushed to him when he forgot it.

The police found scratches on Leo's arm. They matched the ones on my hands from a gardening accident the day before. They called them "abusive."

I was destroyed. My career, my name, my life. I ended it in a cold, empty apartment, the media's condemnation ringing in my ears.

But now, I was back.

I sat up in bed, my heart a steady, cold drum. The sheets were the same expensive Egyptian cotton. The air held the same faint scent of coffee Mark was brewing downstairs.

Everything was the same. Except for me.

My phone buzzed on the nightstand. A text from Chloe.

"Morning, superstar! Decided on a gift for Leo's celebration tonight? A new laptop or that vintage watch he wanted?"

I stared at her name. The woman who held my hand as I cried, all while she was plotting my ruin.

My thumbs moved with a life of their own, typing a reply.

"Let's wait. Don't want to jinx it."

I didn't add a smiley face.

I walked downstairs. Leo was at the kitchen island, meticulously checking his portfolio. He was brilliant, my son. So full of promise. He looked up and smiled, a bright, beautiful smile that had been stolen from me.

"Morning, Mom."

"Morning, sweetheart. You ready?"

"Nervous, but ready."

Mark came over and kissed my cheek. His kiss felt like ice.

"Morning, honey. You look a little pale. Everything okay?"

His concern was an act. A well-rehearsed performance I had once mistaken for love.

"Just a bad dream," I said, my voice even.

I remembered his words from my past life, spat at me across an interrogation table.

"You were always jealous of him, Sarah! You couldn't stand that he was leaving you!"

I looked at him, this man I had shared a bed with for twenty years. This man who had orchestrated my son's death and my public execution.

The hatred was so pure, so cold, it felt like strength.

"I'll drive Leo to the interview," I announced.

Mark paused, his coffee cup halfway to his lips. "But I thought you had that meeting with the developers? I was going to take him."

"I rescheduled. I want to be there for him."

I would not let Leo out of my sight. Not this time.