Chapter 1

"Mark, we're over."

The words left my mouth, simple and clean. I held the phone tight against my ear, my knuckles white. Outside the window of the small motel room I' d rented, the city lights blurred into a distant, meaningless pattern.

A beat of silence on the other end, then his voice, smooth and confident, the voice that had charmed me for a lifetime. "Sarah, stop this. I know you're upset about David. I'll be home in an hour. We can talk then."

"There's nothing to talk about," I said, my voice steady. "I'm not at the apartment. I've packed my things. I'm not coming back."

"What are you talking about?" His tone sharpened, a familiar edge of irritation creeping in. "Don't be childish. Where are you? I'll come get you."

I took a deep, shuddering breath, the air tasting like freedom and terror. "Goodbye, Mark."

I hung up before he could reply, my thumb pressing the screen with finality. I threw the phone onto the cheap bedspread and stared at my reflection in the dark window. The face looking back was pale, thin, with dark circles under the eyes, but the eyes themselves held a light I hadn't seen in a decade. No, in a lifetime.

Because this wasn't my first time living this nightmare.

In my last life, this was the moment I shattered. My brother, David, my only family, was dead. He died in a tragic car accident just two days before. The grief was a physical weight, pressing down on my chest, making it impossible to breathe.

Then Mark had come to me, his expression grave. He held a letter in his hand. "Sarah," he' d said, his voice gentle but firm, "I'm so sorry. The university... you didn't get in."

The double blow was too much. The world tilted, the colors draining away. My brother was gone, and my dream was gone. My knees buckled, and I fainted right there in his arms.

While I was unconscious, lost in a sea of grief and darkness, Mark Johnson made a decision for me. He took the prototype of the cutting-edge tech my genius brother had invented, the project that was supposed to be our future, and gave it away. He donated it to Emily White, the widow of his business partner.

When I woke up, he was by my side, a ring in his hand. "I know this is a lot," he' d said, his eyes full of what I mistook for love. "But we can get through this together. Marry me, Sarah."

To appease me, to quiet the questions I hadn't even had the strength to form, he proposed. And I, broken and alone, said yes. I thought he was my anchor. He was my poison.

For ten years, he was my husband. He was also a ghost in our home, emotionally distant, his kindness a careful performance. Every time I tried to get back on my feet, to restart my tech career, to find a piece of myself again, he would find a way to stop me. He' d smile and talk about the family he wanted, the life he wanted for us.

He made me pregnant five times.

The children were beautiful, but my body broke. My spirit withered. I died at thirty-two, exhausted, overworked, and hollowed out by a stress that had no name. A ghost myself, I watched my own funeral. I saw Mark standing over my grave, a strange expression of relief on his face.

He spoke to the cold stone. "Sarah, I gave you the marriage and children you wanted. It's a fair trade. Repayment for the invention, and for the university admission slot."

Then I watched him turn his back on me for the last time. He gathered our five children and took them back to the city. A week later, he married Emily White. Emily, who had blossomed into a successful tech entrepreneur. Emily, who had used my brother's invention to build her empire. Emily, who had taken the university admission slot that was supposed to be mine.

I finally understood. He never loved me. It was all a transaction. My life, my dreams, my brother's legacy, all traded away for his twisted sense of obligation to another woman.

But now, I was back. Reborn in this small motel room, the memory of that cold grave still clinging to my soul. I'd learned my lesson. Mark Johnson, I didn't want him. Not his manipulative love, not his tainted promises, not the life he planned to trap me in.

This time, I would save myself.

My phone started buzzing again, a frantic, angry vibration against the cheap comforter. Mark's name flashed on the screen. I ignored it. It buzzed again, and again. Finally, it stopped. A minute later, the motel room door shook with a loud, aggressive banging.

"Sarah! I know you're in there! Open this door right now!"

His voice was no longer smooth or charming. It was raw, controlling, the voice of a man who wasn't getting his way. I stood frozen for a second, my heart hammering against my ribs. The old fear, the instinct to obey, rose up in me.

I crushed it down.

I walked to the door and slid the chain lock into place before turning the deadbolt. I opened the door just enough for the chain to catch. Mark' s face was inches from mine, his handsome features twisted with anger.

"What is the meaning of this?" he demanded, trying to push the door open. The chain held firm.

"I told you," I said, my voice cold. "We're done."

"Done?" He laughed, a harsh, ugly sound. "We're not 'done'. We're engaged. We've been together since we were kids. You don't just throw that away because you're having a bad week."

"A bad week?" I almost laughed back at him. "My brother is dead, Mark."

His expression softened fractionally, the anger replaced by a mask of pained sympathy. It was a look I knew well. It was the look he used when he was about to manipulate me. "I know, my love. And I am so sorry. That's why you need me. That's why we need to stick together. Emily is devastated too, you know. She lost her husband, and now David..."

He brought her up. Of course, he brought her up. Even now, his first thought was for Emily White. In my last life, his obsession with her comfort ruined me.

"I don't care about Emily," I said, the words sharp.

Mark's eyes narrowed. "What did you say? Sarah, that's not like you. Emily has been through more than any of us. She needs our support. She needs that invention of David's to keep her and her husband's company afloat. It's what David would have wanted."

There it was. The lie he would use to steal my brother' s work. The same lie that built Emily' s fortune on my family' s tragedy.

"No," I said, my voice ringing with a certainty that startled even me. "It's not what David wanted. He wanted me to have it. He told me so the night before he died."

That wasn't entirely a lie. David and I had talked about our plans, about the company we would build together. It was our dream, not a handout for a grieving widow.

Mark stared at me, genuinely shocked by my defiance. "You're not thinking clearly. You're grieving."

"I'm thinking more clearly than I have in my entire life," I retorted. "And speaking of things I should have had, let's talk about my university admission."

I saw a flicker of panic in his eyes. "What about it?"

"I have a recording of our phone call from an hour ago, Mark," I lied smoothly, my mind racing. I didn't, but he didn't know that. "The one where you admitted you told me I didn't get into my dream school, even though I did. The one where you admitted you gave my spot away."

It was a bluff, but a good one. He was arrogant enough to have said something incriminating if he thought I was too hysterical to notice. His face went pale. He knew he often spoke carelessly around the "old" me.

"That's... that's ridiculous," he stammered.

"Is it?" I smiled, a cold, hard thing. "Or is it just inconvenient that I'm finally paying attention? Now get away from my door, or I'll call the police and play them a very interesting recording. And I'll be sure to send a copy to the university admissions board."

He stared at me, his mind clearly working, calculating. The anger was gone, replaced by a cold assessment. He was seeing me not as his grieving, pliable fiancée, but as a problem to be managed. He took a step back from the door.

"Fine," he said, his voice low and tight. "Have it your way. But this isn't over, Sarah. Not by a long shot."

I watched him turn and walk stiffly down the motel corridor. I didn't close the door until he was out of sight. My legs felt weak, and I leaned back against the door, my whole body trembling with the adrenaline of the confrontation.

It was a small victory, but it was a start. I had drawn the first line in the sand.

I went back to the bed and picked up my phone, my hands still shaking. I scrolled through my contacts, past Mark's name, until I found the one I was looking for. Professor Lee. My old high school mentor, a kind man who had always believed in me.

He answered on the second ring. "Sarah? Is everything alright? I heard about your brother. I am so, so sorry for your loss."

His genuine warmth was almost enough to make me cry. "Professor Lee," I said, my voice thick with emotion. "I... I need help."

"Anything, Sarah," he said without hesitation. "You just tell me what you need."

"I need to get away," I said, looking around the cheap motel room. "And I need to protect what's mine."

A new life was waiting. This time, I would be the one to build it.