Chapter 1

"Liam, we need to talk."

My father, Mark Turner, set down his fork, the sound loud in the tense silence of the dining room. My mother, Sarah, stopped pretending to eat and looked at him, then at me. My younger brother, Noah, just smirked into his plate. I knew this conversation was coming.

"The letter from the university came today," Mark said, his voice flat. "Congratulations on the scholarship. It' s a great honor."

"Thank you," I said, my voice equally cold. The acceptance letter lay on the small table by the door, a white rectangle of hope that felt like a trap.

"Your brother, Noah, also got his acceptance letter," Sarah chimed in, her tone artificially sweet. "But he didn' t get a scholarship. You know how competitive it is."

I stayed silent, waiting. I had lived this moment before. The details were so sharp, so clear, it felt like a memory from yesterday, not a nightmare from a life I had already lost.

"You' re the older brother, Liam," my father continued, getting to the point. "You' ve always been smart, you can find other ways. Noah... he needs this chance more. We want you to give the scholarship to him."

The words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. My immediate reaction was a surge of hot anger, a desire to scream, to throw the plate against the wall and demand how they could even think of something so monstrous.

But then, the memory washed over me, a cold and terrifying wave.

In my last life, I did exactly that. I had yelled, I had reasoned, I had begged. I told them the scholarship was mine, earned through years of sleepless nights and relentless work. I had accused them of a favoritism so blatant it was cruel.

It did nothing.

My refusal only made them more determined.

A few weeks later, a formal accusation of plagiarism was filed against me. A key paper from my high school portfolio, one that was crucial for the scholarship application, was flagged. They claimed I had stolen it. The evidence was a digital file on the family computer, with a creation date just before I submitted my application, under Noah' s user profile.

It was a perfect frame-up.

I remembered the hearing. The condescending faces of the review board, the feigned shock and disappointment from my parents, and Noah' s crocodile tears as he confessed he had written the paper but was too scared to say anything. He said he never thought I would steal it from him.

They expelled me. The scholarship was revoked. The university that was my only escape route slammed its doors in my face. My name was dragged through the mud. Betrayed, heartbroken, and publicly shamed, I was cast out. My life after that was a slow, agonizing slide into poverty and despair, while Noah, my beloved younger brother, went to that top university on my stolen scholarship and lived the life that was meant for me.

I died at thirty, in a rundown apartment, from an illness I couldn't afford to treat, watching a news report about Noah' s latest business success. The last thing I felt was a crushing, bitter regret.

But now, I was eighteen again. The letter was on the table. The same demand was in the air.

This time, I would not scream. I would not fight them. Not here, not now.

I looked up from my plate, my face a carefully constructed mask of surprise and reluctance. I let my shoulders slump, a picture of a dejected son.

"Give my scholarship to Noah?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

"It' s for the good of the family," Mark insisted, his voice gaining a hard edge. "A successful son reflects well on all of us. Noah has the social skills to make the most of this opportunity."

"And I don' t?" The question slipped out, a ghost of my past life' s anger.

"Don' t be difficult, Liam," Sarah said, her voice turning sharp. "You know you' re not a people person. You' re better with books. Noah is the one who will build connections, make us proud in society."

Noah finally looked up, a smug, triumphant light in his eyes. "It' s okay, Mom, Dad. If big brother doesn' t want to, I understand. I' ll just go to a community college or something. I don' t want to be a burden."

The manipulation was so thick I could taste it. It made my stomach turn.

I took a slow breath, forcing down the bile. I looked at my father, then my mother, and finally at my triumphant brother.

"Okay," I said.

The room went silent. They had expected a fight.

"Okay?" Mark asked, looking suspicious.

"Yes," I said, my voice steady. I pushed my chair back and stood up. "You' re right. It' s for the family. Noah should have it."

I didn' t look at their shocked faces. I walked out of the dining room, my back straight. The oppressive atmosphere of the cramped house seemed to cling to me, a physical weight on my shoulders. I went straight to my small, attic room.

Under my bed was an old duffel bag. I didn't have much. Some worn clothes, a handful of books, and a small tin box containing a few hundred dollars I had saved from part-time jobs. The money I had guarded so carefully for college supplies.

I packed quickly, my movements efficient and silent. Every item I put in the bag was a choice, a piece of the life I was leaving behind. This wasn't just running away, it was an escape. Last time, they took my future. This time, I was taking it back before they had the chance.

The next morning, I left the house before anyone was awake. I left the acceptance letter on the dining table. They could have it. They could have the scholarship. They could have the lie they wanted to build for their perfect son.

I didn't go to the bus station. I walked straight to the university campus. The sun was rising, casting a golden light on the old brick buildings. It was the place of my dreams, and also the site of my greatest humiliation.

I wasn' t here to plead my case. I was here to close a chapter. I found the admissions office and officially withdrew my application, citing personal reasons. It was a clean cut. There would be no plagiarism investigation, no public hearing. Just a quiet disappearance. I was a ghost, leaving them to their victory.

As I walked away from the administration building, a voice called my name.

"Liam? Liam Turner?"

I turned. A young woman with kind eyes and a warm smile was hurrying toward me. It was Emily Roberts. She was a recent graduate who had volunteered as a mentor for the scholarship applicants. She had been the one person who had seen my potential, who had encouraged me.

In my last life, after my expulsion, I had been too ashamed to ever contact her again.

"Emily," I said, my voice hoarse.

"I heard the scholarship announcements were made," she said, her smile bright. "I was so sure you' d get it. Did you?"

Her genuine excitement was a painful reminder of what I had lost, and what I was giving up.

"I did," I said, my expression unreadable. "But I turned it down."

Emily' s smile faded, replaced by confusion. "You what? Why? Liam, this was your dream."

Her concern felt like a crack in the icy wall I had built around my heart. But this was a battle I had to fight alone.

"I have other plans," I said simply. "It was nice seeing you, Emily."

I turned and walked away, leaving her standing there, a question on her lips. I could feel her eyes on my back, full of worry and confusion. I didn't look back. I had a new path to forge, one built not on their charity, but on my own strength. The betrayal was a fire in my gut, and it would be the fuel for everything that came next.