Chapter 1

The sharp, piercing wail of an ambulance siren was the first thing I heard, slicing through the thick fog in my head. My cheek was pressed against the rough fibers of the living room carpet, the scent of dust and my mother' s cheap air freshener filling my nose. I blinked, my vision slowly focusing on my younger sister, Chloe, lying theatrically on the floor a few feet away. An empty bottle of pills was clutched in her hand, her eyes squeezed shut in a poor imitation of unconsciousness.

It was a pathetic performance, but it was the one that had destroyed my life.

The memory hit me not as a distant echo but as a physical blow, a phantom pain that jolted through my body. I remembered this day. This was the day I received the acceptance letter and the full scholarship to the most prestigious art school in the country. This was the day my life was supposed to begin.

Instead, it had been the beginning of the end.

In my first life, I fell for this ridiculous act. I saw Chloe on the floor, heard my mother' s frantic sobs and my father' s angry accusations, and I buckled. I believed their twisted logic.

"Ava, how can you be so selfish?" my mother had shrieked, her face a mask of grief. "Your sister is trying to kill herself because of you! She can' t handle the pressure of failing her exams again, not when you' re flaunting your success!"

My fiancé, Mark, had held me, his voice a smooth, convincing poison in my ear.

"Ava, baby, it' s just a school. Your family needs you. I need you. What' s a scholarship compared to your sister' s life?"

He had claimed he failed his own college entrance exams too, a lie to create a bond of shared mediocrity. He promised we' d build a life here, in our small town. I believed him. I believed all of them.

So I gave it all up. I tore up my acceptance letter and watched as my parents pulled strings to get my scholarship transferred to Chloe. The art school, pressured by the story of a fragile, suicidal younger sister and a magnanimous older one, eventually agreed.

The betrayal didn't end there. It festered. A month later, I discovered that Mark hadn't failed his exams at all. He had scored high enough to get into the same city university as Chloe. They left together, taking my dream and my future with them. They had plotted it all from the beginning, using my love and my trust as weapons against me.

When I confronted them, when I threatened to expose their fraud, they came back one night. Not to apologize, but to silence me. They locked me in my small art studio behind our house and set it on fire.

I survived, but barely. The flames took half the skin on my face and left my left leg twisted and useless. I was no longer the talented artist, the pretty fiancée. I was a monster, a burden.

My parents, ashamed of my disfigurement and desperate to get rid of me, forced me into a marriage with an old, abusive man from the next town over. He was a widower who wanted a wife no one else would, someone to cook and clean and endure his drunken rages. My life became a living hell of pain and humiliation, until one day, his fists went too far. I died on the cold, dirty kitchen floor of that man' s house.

But now... now I was back.

The ambulance siren grew louder. My mother was on the phone, her voice choked with fake panic. "Yes, my daughter... she took a whole bottle of pills! Please hurry!"

My father was pacing, running his hands through his hair. "That girl," he muttered, referring to me. "Always causing trouble. Always pushing her sister to the edge."

I pushed myself up slowly, my limbs feeling strangely light and whole. There were no scars on my face. My leg was strong. I was seventeen again, and the future they had stolen from me was once again within my grasp.

Chloe' s eyelids fluttered. She peeked, checking to see if her drama was having the desired effect. Her eyes met mine, and for a split second, I saw a flash of triumph in them before she squeezed them shut again.

In my past life, I would have rushed to her side, crying, begging her to wake up. This time, I stood still. I watched the scene unfold with a cold, detached calm that felt entirely new. The burning rage from my past life had cooled into something harder, sharper. It was a diamond forged in the fires of their betrayal.

The paramedics burst through the door, followed by Mark, who rushed to Chloe' s side with a look of practiced despair.

"Chloe! Oh my God, Chloe, wake up!" he cried, shaking her gently.

My parents swarmed the paramedics, feeding them the story they had concocted. It was all my fault. The scholarship, my talent, my future-it was all too much for poor, fragile Chloe.

I walked over to the scene, my footsteps steady. Everyone turned to look at me, their expressions a mixture of accusation and contempt.

My mother grabbed my arm, her nails digging into my skin. "Ava, look what you' ve done! Are you happy now?"

I looked down at her hand, then back up at her face. I didn' t flinch. I didn' t cry. I simply looked at her, my eyes empty of the love and desperation she was used to seeing.

I spoke, my voice even and clear.

"Fine."

Everyone froze. The paramedics, my parents, even Mark, who was in the middle of his dramatic performance.

"What did you say?" my father demanded.

I looked from my father' s angry face to my mother' s tear-streaked one, then to Mark' s feigned concern, and finally to Chloe, who was definitely listening.

"I said, fine," I repeated. "She can have it. The scholarship, the acceptance letter... it' s all hers."

A wave of shock silenced the room. This was not the reaction they had expected. They had prepared for a fight, for tears and arguments they could use to paint me as the villain. My calm agreement threw them completely off balance.

Chloe, forgetting she was supposed to be unconscious, sat up abruptly. "Really?"

Mark shot her a warning look, and she quickly slumped back down, groaning as if in pain. It was a laughable performance.

But their greed was stronger than their caution. A slow, triumphant smile spread across Mark' s face. He thought he had won. They all did.

"Ava, you mean it?" my mother asked, her tone shifting from accusatory to cautiously hopeful. "You' ll really give it to your sister?"

"Yes," I said. "On one condition."

The suspicion returned to their faces. My father folded his arms. "What condition?"

"I want to go to the city with them to celebrate," I said, my voice sweet and innocent. "When they go for the university orientation. It was my dream school, after all. I just want to see it one last time. And I want to throw a big farewell party for them before they go."

It was a seemingly harmless, even sentimental request. A final, pathetic plea from the girl who had lost everything.

Mark and my parents exchanged a look. They saw no threat in my request. They saw a defeated girl, and their arrogance blinded them. For them, my presence would be the ultimate symbol of their victory-me, the loser, watching them, the winners, step into the future they had stolen.

Mark smiled, a greasy, condescending smile. "Of course, Ava. That' s the least we can do. We' d love for you to come."

He helped a now "recovering" Chloe to her feet. She leaned against him, shooting me a look of pure, unadulterated contempt and victory. They thought I was weak. They thought I was broken.

They were wrong.

As the paramedics packed up, concluding it was just a minor incident, the neighbors who had gathered outside started murmuring. I could hear their words clearly.

"Did you hear? The older one, Ava, she' s giving her big scholarship to her sister."

"Such a good sister. Chloe is so lucky."

"I always said Ava was too ambitious. It' s better this way, for the family to stay together."

They celebrated Chloe' s manipulation and my sacrifice. Let them. Let them all believe the lie. This time, I wouldn't be the one burning. I would be the one holding the match. And I would enjoy every second of watching their world go up in flames.

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