The world snapped back into focus with a single doorbell chime. It was Debra Fowler, standing on my porch, a clipboard in her trembling hands, her face a mask of grief.
My best friend, Molly, stood in my kitchen, a bright, helpful smile on her face. This scene was hauntingly familiar.
I knew this exact moment. I remembered the cold dread that followed, the fall down the porch stairs, the cracking sound as my head hit the concrete.
The memory was so vivid it felt like watching a movie of my own death. Molly had smiled as she helped set the trap that killed me.
She wanted me dead. She wanted my house, my inheritance, and Matthew, Debra' s charismatic, cheating husband.
They had a simple, brutal plan: frame me for weakening Caleb, use his death to turn the neighborhood against me, then get rid of me. In the first timeline, it worked perfectly.
But I was back. This time, I knew everything.