Chapter 1

The cold, damp concrete of the prison floor was the last thing I remembered, the metallic taste of blood filling my mouth after a guard' s boot connected with my ribs, a final, brutal punctuation to a life that had spiraled into a nightmare. They said I' d tried to kill him, my own best friend, Liam. A frame job so perfect, so complete, that even I almost believed it. It was the culmination of years of relentless, inexplicable bad luck that began the day I got engaged. My art career, once so promising, had evaporated into nothing. My finances were a joke.

I was a magnet for accidents, for false accusations, for every piece of misfortune the world could throw at me.

And through it all, the Peterson family thrived. My fiancée, Chloe, became a local celebrity. Her father, a mid-level manager, shot up the corporate ladder. Her aimless sister landed a six-figure job. And Derek Stone, Chloe' s deadbeat ex-boyfriend, the man I despised, became a tech mogul almost overnight. Their good fortune was a perfect mirror image of my ruin. It wasn't a coincidence, I realized too late, it was a transaction. They were feasting on my life, my luck, my very soul, through some dark ritual they' d disguised as our love.

Then, darkness. An endless, silent fall.

Until a sharp, piercing ring jolted me back.

It wasn' t the prison bell. It was the clinking of champagne glasses.

My eyes snapped open. I wasn't on a cold floor, I was standing on a plush, red carpet. Bright lights, not a single flickering bulb, burned my retinas. The air smelled of expensive perfume and hors d'oeuvres, not disinfectant and despair. A murmur of cheerful conversation replaced the groans of inmates.

My head swam. I looked down at my hands. They were clean, unscarred, holding a champagne flute. I was wearing a tailored black suit, the one I' d bought for a special occasion. For my engagement party.

"Ethan, darling, are you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."

The voice was sweet, concerned, and it sent a wave of ice through my veins. It was Chloe Peterson. She stood before me, radiant in a white dress, her smile as bright and as fake as I now knew it to be. The same smile she gave me in the courtroom when they read the guilty verdict.

I was back. I was standing in the grand ballroom of the Peterson family mansion, on the very day my life had been signed away. The day the ritual began.

I stared at her, at the woman who had orchestrated my complete and utter destruction. The rage, the betrayal, the memory of dying alone on a prison floor, it all churned inside me, a hot, violent storm. But on my face, I kept nothing. A blank slate.

"Just a bit dizzy," I said, my voice steady, betraying none of the chaos in my mind. "The champagne, maybe. It's a little strong."

She laughed, a light, tinkling sound that now sounded like shattering glass.

"Don't be silly. It's the best. Daddy insisted." She looped her arm through mine, her touch making my skin crawl. "Come on, everyone is waiting to congratulate us."

She led me through the crowd of smiling faces. I recognized them all. The sycophants, the business partners, the so-called friends who would later turn their backs on me, who would whisper about my "sudden downfall" with pathetic pity. This time, I saw the greed and opportunism in their eyes.

My gaze scanned the room, and I saw him. Derek Stone. He was leaning against a marble pillar, a smug, self-satisfied smirk on his face as he watched me and Chloe. He raised his glass in a mock toast. He looked exactly as I remembered him from that day, a vulture waiting for the kill. He hadn't become a tech mogul yet, he was still just Chloe's loser ex, but the arrogance was already there, simmering just below the surface.

He pushed himself off the pillar and sauntered over, his eyes dripping with condescension.

"Well, well, look at the lucky man," Derek said, his voice loud enough for those nearby to hear. "Ethan Miller, the struggling artist, finally snagged himself a Peterson. Your luck has really turned around, pal."

In my first life, his words had made me clench my fists, a hot spike of anger and insecurity. I' d mumbled something defensive about my art.

This time, I just smiled. A calm, easy smile.

"Luck is a funny thing, Derek," I replied, my tone light and conversational. "It comes and goes. Sometimes, the people who think they have it are actually just borrowing it. And the bill always comes due."

Derek' s smirk faltered for a second. His eyes narrowed, searching my face for the familiar weakness, the easy target. He didn't find it. He just saw a placid calm that seemed to unnerve him.

Chloe squeezed my arm, a silent warning. "Derek, be nice. It's our special day."

"Of course, of course," he said, recovering his composure. "Wouldn't want to spoil it." But he kept watching me, a new flicker of something in his eyes. It wasn't just smugness anymore. It was suspicion.

Just then, Chloe' s father, Mr. Peterson, clapped me on the shoulder. He was a big man with a booming voice and a smile that never quite reached his cold, calculating eyes.

"Ethan, my boy! Glad to have you as part of the family," he bellowed. "I' ve cleared a spot for you at the head table. Right next to me. We have so much to discuss about your future."

In my past life, I had felt honored, a warm glow of acceptance spreading through my chest. Now, I knew what that spot at the table meant. It was the seat for the sacrificial lamb.

I smiled back at him, a wider, more genuine-looking smile than the one I gave Derek.

"I wouldn't miss it for the world, sir," I said. "I have a feeling my future is going to be very, very interesting."

I let Chloe lead me toward the table, my mind cold and sharp. The shock of my rebirth was fading, replaced by a chilling clarity. They thought this was the beginning of their rise and my fall. They had no idea.

This wasn't a repeat. It was a second chance.

And I was going to use it to burn their entire empire to the ground.