Chapter 1

The last thing I remember is the cold steel of a knife sliding between my ribs.

Then, the shock on my best friend Wendy' s face.

Not shock that I was dying, but shock that she had to find the perfect angle for her livestream.

"Oh my god, you guys! My friend just got stabbed! She was trying to sleep with this trucker for a free ride, and it went wrong! So tragic!"

Her voice, usually dripping with fake sweetness, was now filled with a sick excitement.

I lay on the dirty floor of the truck cabin, my blood pooling around me. I could hear the notifications pinging on her phone, a chorus of hate and judgment from strangers who believed her lies.

"Serves her right."

"Stupid slut."

"Train hopper got what was coming."

Wendy had set me up. She told the trucker, Barney, that I was easy. She pushed me into his cabin because she wanted my comfortable Amtrak sleeper bed for herself. All because she was jealous of my job, my salary, my life.

I died alone, smeared as a whore, betrayed by the one person I trusted most in the world. My last breath was a gasp of disbelief.

Then, I gasped again.

The air was clean, not thick with the smell of diesel and blood. I wasn't on a cold cabin floor. I was in the breakroom at my law firm in Chicago, the familiar scent of stale coffee and microwave popcorn in the air.

And standing in front of me, smiling her saccharine smile, was Wendy Chadwick.

"Gabby, you' re a lifesaver!" she chirped, holding her phone up to show me the Amtrak website. "A private sleeper cabin is $600! That' s insane. Let' s get one cabin and one coach seat and just take turns. It' ll save us so much money for our Thanksgiving trip home!"

The exact words. The exact moment.

It was real. I was back.

The memory of the knife, the searing pain, the online hatred, it all flooded me. It wasn't a dream. It was a warning. A second chance.

My hands started to shake, but I clenched them into fists under the table. The old me, the kind and trusting Gabrielle, would have agreed instantly. She would have paid for the whole cabin, just to help her "struggling" friend.

That Gabrielle was dead.

I looked Wendy straight in the eye, my voice cold and steady.

"No."

Wendy' s smile faltered. She blinked, confused. "What do you mean, no?"

"I mean no, Wendy. I' m not splitting a cabin with you. I' ll buy my own ticket."

Her confusion quickly curdled into annoyance. This wasn't part of her plan. I was supposed to be her generous, gullible doormat.

She glanced around the breakroom, saw our colleagues, Sarah and Mike, listening in. Her expression shifted instantly to one of a wounded victim.

"Oh," she said, her voice loud enough for everyone to hear. "I guess I just forgot. You make, what, a hundred thousand a year as a paralegal here? Of course, you wouldn' t need to save a few hundred dollars."

She sighed dramatically. "I' m sorry. I shouldn' t have even asked. It' s just, on my receptionist salary, things are so tight. I was just trying to find a way to see my family for the holiday."

Sarah and Mike shot me disapproving looks. I could see the judgment in their eyes: Gabrielle, the rich, selfish bitch.

Wendy was good. She was a master manipulator, playing the poverty card she always kept up her sleeve.

But I knew her game now. I saw every move before she made it.

I gave a small, tight smile. "You' re absolutely right, Wendy. Saving money is smart."

Hope flickered in her eyes.

"That' s why I' ll just get a coach seat too," I continued, my voice bright and cheerful. "It' s only, what, eighty bucks? We can sit together the whole way. It' ll be just like old times, keeping each other company!"

The look on Wendy' s face was priceless. Pure, unadulterated rage, quickly masked by a forced smile. She was trapped. She couldn' t argue against saving money when that was her whole public platform.

"Oh. Great," she sputtered, her teeth clenched. "That sounds... fun."

I watched her walk away, fuming. I knew what she was thinking. Her plan to get a free, private bed for the entire trip, leaving me to stand in the aisle, was ruined.

I took a deep, steadying breath. This time, the trip home for Thanksgiving would be different. This time, I was the one setting the trap.