Chapter 1

The last thing I remember is the cold.

It wasn't just the Michigan winter seeping through the broken planks of the abandoned barn. It was a cold that settled deep in my bones, a final, complete emptiness.

My in-laws, the Chadwicks, had thrown me out. After twenty years of being their dutiful daughter-in-law, their live-in nurse, their servant. Twenty years after my husband, their son Andrew, died a hero's death.

"You're free now," their final note said. "Go find a new life."

This was their reward for my loyalty. For sacrificing my youth to care for a family that was never truly mine. They left everything-the house, the savings, Andrew's legacy-to their precious son, Wesley.

I died alone, a forgotten woman in a forgotten town.

Then, I heard weeping.

A low, mournful sound that filled a space crowded with the scent of lilies and stale coffee. My eyes snapped open. I wasn't in the barn. I was sitting on a hard wooden pew, dressed in a simple black dress.

My mother-in-law, Debra Chadwick, had her arm around me. Her face, usually a mask of pinched cruelty, was a public performance of grief. Tears streamed down her cheeks.

"Oh, Gabrielle, my poor girl," she sobbed, her voice loud enough for the whole church to hear. "Don't you worry. We'll take care of you and Molly. You're our daughter now."

The exact same words. The same false promise that had shackled me for two decades.

The air in my lungs turned to ice. I looked around. The church was filled with somber faces. My daughter, seven-year-old Molly, sat beside me, her small hand clutching mine. At the front of the church was a coffin draped with an American flag.

Andrew's funeral. I was back. Twenty years in the past.

The shock was a physical blow. But then, something else surged through me, hot and sharp. Not grief. Not confusion.

Rage.

Debra squeezed my shoulder, her grip surprisingly strong. "You're in shock, dear. Let me get you something to calm your nerves. The doctor gave me some sedatives for you."

In my first life, I took them. I let her numb me, make me pliable. I let her guide me into twenty years of servitude.

Not this time.

I shoved her arm off me. The movement was so abrupt, so violent, that she stumbled back a step. A murmur went through the nearby pews.

"I'm fine," I said, my voice clear and cold.

Debra's eyes, red from fake tears, widened in surprise. "Gabrielle, you're not thinking straight..."

"I'm thinking clearer than I have in twenty years," I cut her off. I scanned the crowd, my gaze sweeping past the stoic, complicit face of my father-in-law, Barney, and the bored, arrogant expressions of Wesley and Wendy.

My eyes landed on a man in a crisp fire department dress uniform. Captain Luis Roberts. Andrew's captain. The administrator for the Firefighter's Union benefits. The man Debra had so carefully kept me away from in my first life.

I stood up, pulling Molly with me.

"Where are you going?" Debra hissed, her sweet-old-lady mask slipping.

I didn't answer her. I walked straight down the aisle, ignoring the shocked stares. I walked away from the coffin, away from the lies, and straight toward the only man who could give me the ammunition I needed.

"Captain Roberts?" I said, my voice steady. "I'm Gabrielle Chadwick. I need to speak with you. Now."