Chapter 1

"I'm sorry, sir, the transaction has been declined," the bank manager said, looking at me with professional calm.

I nodded slowly, "Yes, I know. I'd like to report the primary card on this account as stolen and freeze all associated supplementary cards immediately."

The manager' s expression didn't change, but he typed quickly into his computer.

"Of course, Mr. Evans. Can you confirm the last four digits of the primary card?"

"I can't," I said, my voice steady. "My... friend has it. But I can give you my mother's maiden name, my first pet's name, and the exact date the account was opened."

He processed the information, his eyes flickering across the screen. "Everything is in order. The account is now frozen. All cards are disabled."

"Thank you," I said, a wave of cold relief washing over me. The first step was done.

As I walked out of the private banking suite and into the sterile, quiet hallway, the memory of another, much different day flooded back. It felt like a lifetime ago, and in a way, it was.

It was my life before.

"Dude, you're a lifesaver!" Mike had exclaimed, clapping me on the back with a grin that I used to think was genuine.

We were in my dorm room, a space that felt more like a luxury apartment thanks to my family's wealth. He was holding the supplementary Black Card my parents had given me for emergencies. An unlimited card.

"No problem, man," I had said, trusting him completely. "Just, you know, use it for the dinner with Sarah. Make sure she has a good time."

"Of course! You know me," he'd said. "I'll treat her like a queen for you."

He did treat her like a queen. But not for me. He treated her like his queen.

I remembered the sick feeling in my stomach when I first saw the credit card statement. It wasn't just dinner. It was a five-thousand-dollar handbag from a designer I had never heard of. It was a weekend trip to a five-star resort upstate. It was jewelry, clothes, and lavish parties I was never invited to.

The spending was one thing. I was rich, I could afford it, and I thought I was just being a good, generous friend. But the betrayal cut deeper than any financial loss.

I found out about them by accident. I was supposed to be in class, but Professor Thompson had cancelled the lecture last minute. I decided to surprise Sarah at her apartment, maybe take her to lunch. I used the key she had given me, the one she said was a symbol of our trust.

I pushed the door open quietly, a smile on my face.

The smile died when I heard the sounds coming from her bedroom. Her laughter, a sound I loved, was mixed with a man's deeper voice. Mike's voice.

I stood there, frozen in the hallway, my heart pounding in my ears.

"Oh, Mike, you're so much better than him," I heard Sarah coo. "Liam is so boring. So naive. He just hands over his money like an idiot."

"He is an idiot," Mike's voice was smug, dripping with contempt. "But a useful one. As long as he keeps paying, you and I can have anything we want."

I felt the world tilt on its axis. My best friend. My girlfriend. The two people I trusted most in the world were using me, laughing at me behind my back.

I didn't storm in. I backed away silently, my body trembling. I couldn't breathe. I stumbled out of the apartment building and just walked, not knowing where I was going.

The confrontation happened two days later. I couldn't eat, couldn't sleep. The rage and hurt coiled inside me until I felt like I would explode. I found them together at our usual campus coffee shop, sitting close, laughing.

"We need to talk," I said, my voice dangerously low.

Sarah looked up, her expression shifting from happy to annoyed. "Liam? What's wrong with you? You look terrible."

"I know what you've been doing," I said, looking from her to Mike. "Both of you."

Mike put on his concerned friend face. "Whoa, buddy, calm down. What's going on?"

"Don't call me buddy," I snapped. "I went to Sarah's apartment. I heard everything."

The color drained from Sarah's face for a second, but she recovered quickly. Her eyes narrowed and filled with a cold fury I had never seen before.

"You spied on me?" she shrieked, her voice rising and drawing the attention of everyone in the cafe. "You went into my apartment without permission? You're a psycho!"

"What? No, I..." I stammered, caught off guard.

"He's been acting crazy lately," Mike said to the onlookers, shaking his head with fake sadness. "I think the pressure is getting to him. He gets these paranoid ideas."

He was gaslighting me. They were turning it all around, making me the villain.

"You're lying!" I shouted, my voice cracking. "You used my credit card to buy her things! You're sleeping together!"

Sarah burst into tears, loud, dramatic sobs. "How could you say that? After everything I've done for you! Mike has been nothing but a supportive friend to us both! You're just jealous and insecure!"

People were staring, whispering. They were looking at me with pity and disgust. I was the crazy, jealous boyfriend. The rich kid who couldn't handle his emotions. I was publicly humiliated, stripped of my dignity by the two people I had loved.

I ran out of there, their fake apologies and concerned calls following me.

That night was the end. Mike called me, his voice smooth and apologetic.

"Hey man, I think we all just need to cool off. Let's go for a drive. Clear our heads. Just you and me."

Like a fool, I agreed. I still had a sliver of hope that it was all a huge misunderstanding. That my best friend wouldn't do this to me.

We drove out to the old lookout point over the city, a place we used to go to talk. The car was his, a flashy sports car he'd bought with my money.

"I'm sorry about today, Liam," he started. "Sarah was just upset. You know how she gets."

"Is it true, Mike?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper. "Are you and her..."

He didn't answer. He just looked at me, and for the first time, I saw the pure, cold envy in his eyes. There was no friendship there. There was only greed.

"You have everything, Liam," he said softly, his voice full of venom. "The money, the family, the easy life. You don't deserve it."

Then everything happened fast. The car door flew open. He was bigger than me, stronger. He shoved me hard. I stumbled backwards, my feet slipping on the loose gravel at the edge of the cliff.

I remember the feeling of falling. The rush of air. The sickening crunch as my body hit the rocks below. The last thing I saw was Mike's face looking down at me, his expression flat and empty, before he got back in his car and drove away.

The police report said it was a tragic accident. A suicide. My wealthy, troubled parents accepted the story, too consumed by grief to question it. My "friends" mourned me on social media, with Sarah posting a tearful tribute to the "love of her life" and Mike writing about how he'd lost a "brother." They got away with it.

Until now.

Because as I stood in that bank hallway, the memory of my own death fresh in my mind, I wasn't the naive, trusting Liam anymore. I had been given a second chance. I had woken up that morning in my own bed, three weeks before my murder.

This time, there would be no accident. There would be no humiliation.

This time, I would be the one in control. And I was just getting started.