Chapter 2

Was this a dream?

A very long, very detailed dream?

Ava pinched her arm, the one with the soft, unblemished skin of a seven-year-old.

She felt it.

The small, sharp sting was undeniable.

It was real.

She stood on her tiptoes to get a better look at herself in the mirror.

The face was hers, but not hers.

It was the face from old family photos, the one her mother cooed over.

Chubby cheeks, big brown eyes full of a childhood innocence she had long since lost.

It was unnerving.

The bedroom door creaked open, and her mother peeked inside.

She looked younger, her face less lined with worry.

"Ava, sweetie? Are you awake? Time to get ready for school."

Ava' s heart leaped into her throat.

Her mom.

Seeing her like this, so vibrant and carefree, was a shock.

"Mom?" she whispered, her voice high-pitched and childish.

Her mother smiled, a warm, genuine smile.

"Of course, it's me. Who else would it be? Now hurry up, you don't want to be late."

Ava numbly allowed her mother to help her get dressed, her mind racing.

School.

Second grade.

That meant... Leo.

He would be here.

In this house.

Not the angry, resentful young man, but a boy.

A chubby, mischievous boy who hadn't been ruined by life yet.

At the breakfast table, it happened.

The front door opened and Leo' s father, her future stepfather, walked in, holding the hand of a small, round boy.

The boy had a head of messy black hair and a pout on his face.

He was clutching a half-eaten donut in his other hand.

"Ava, this is Leo," her mother said cheerfully.

"He and his dad are going to be living with us now."

Ava stared at him.

This was the boy who would grow up to hate her, to push her into the path of a speeding car.

But looking at him now, he just seemed like a grumpy kid.

Her mind, however, was not a child's.

It was sharp, honed by years of life and a tragic death.

She had the knowledge and experience of an adult.

She stood up from her chair, walked over to Leo, and looked him straight in the eye.

"It's nice to meet you, Leo," she said, her voice steady and clear, far too mature for a seven-year-old.

"But you have chocolate on your face."

Leo blinked, surprised by her directness.

He reflexively wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, smearing the chocolate.

Ava simply took a napkin from the table and gently wiped his cheek clean.

"There," she said.

"All better."

Her mother and Leo's father stared, mouths slightly agape.

They had expected shyness, maybe a few tears.

They had not expected this calm, commanding presence from a little girl.

The realization settled over Ava, hard and certain.

This was her new reality.

Her past was gone, erased by a fate she couldn't comprehend.

But her future was a blank canvas.

And the first thing she needed to paint was a different version of Leo.

A deep, cold anger solidified in her chest.

It wasn't a wild, raging fire, but a focused, determined cold.

She wouldn't let him ruin this life.

She wouldn't let him become that person again.

Her death had been his fault, a direct result of his choices.

This time, she would make his choices for him.

She wasn't going to get revenge in the traditional sense.

Killing him or hurting him would solve nothing and would only destroy this new, precious family.

No.

Her revenge would be more subtle, more complete.

She would reform him.

She would take this unruly, underachieving boy and turn him into a success.

She would make him into a person so different, so well-adjusted and kind, that the angry young man from her past life could never exist.

That would be her victory.

She would take control of his life, just as he had ended hers.

She would become his boss.