Chapter 1

I was murdered on a Tuesday.

It wasn't a quick or clean death. It happened in a derelict motel room off I-95, the kind with peeling wallpaper and a smell that clings to your clothes. Sabrina and her boyfriend, Anthony, were the ones who did it. They took their time.

The whole thing started because of my brother, Matthew. He' s my older brother, but you' d never know it. Our parents, who ran a small diner in South Philly, died in a car crash two years ago. Their last wish, whispered to me in a hospital bed that smelled of antiseptic and finality, was for me to look after him. "He's not like you, Elyse. He needs you," my mother had said.

She was right. Matthew was a trust-fund kid without a trust fund, living off our parents' life insurance payout in a low-effort clerk job at a community college. He was naive, a hopeless romantic who fell for the first pretty face that smiled at him online.

That face belonged to Sabrina Chavez.

In that first life, he came to me, tears streaming down his face, confessing she' d scammed him out of $100,000. I did what a good sister was supposed to do. I helped him. I hired a lawyer, we went to court, and we got the money back.

It was the worst mistake I ever made.

He went right back to her. He gave her another $40,000 as an "apology" and then turned on me, blaming me for all the legal trouble and stress. He said I' d embarrassed her.

That' s what led to the motel room. Sabrina and Anthony ambushed me. They wanted to know where I kept my money. They didn't believe I was just a paramedic. The final betrayal, the one that broke something in me forever, was when the police found my body. Matthew, my own brother, gave a statement that painted them as victims of my "harassment." They got reduced charges. He helped my murderers.

Then, I woke up.

The first thing I saw was the familiar crack in my bedroom ceiling. The second was the date on my phone: the exact day Matthew had first confessed to me. The air was thick with a sense of impossible repetition.

A few hours later, my front door opened. There he was, my foolish brother, his face a mess of tears and snot, just like before.

"Elyse," he sobbed, collapsing onto my cheap sofa. "She took everything. Sabrina... she scammed me."

The words were a perfect echo of a memory that was now my reality. The rage was a cold, solid thing in my chest. But my face showed nothing. I let him cry.

When he finally looked up, searching for the same sympathy I' d given him before, I leaned forward. My voice was calm, gentle, and full of poison.

"She's not scamming you, Matthew."

He blinked, confused. "What? But the money..."

"She's testing you," I said, the lie sliding out easily. "It's a cry for help. Think about it. A woman like her, beautiful and smart, why would she choose you? Because you're a good man, Matthew. She's pushing you away to see if you'll fight for her."

His tears slowed. A flicker of stupid, hopeful light entered his eyes.

I had him.