Chapter 2

The next morning, I was in my office before the sun came up. The city was still quiet, a gray canvas waiting for the day to begin. I didn't waste any time.

My first call was to my bank.

"I need to freeze all activity on my primary joint account," I told the private banker on the other end. "And I want to revoke all supplementary card access linked to it. Effective immediately."

Chloe loved that card. It was her lifeline, the source of her seemingly endless stream of designer clothes, five-star dinners, and "spontaneous" luxury trips that she would later frame as content for her followers. Every tap of that card was a piece of the gilded cage I had built around myself.

I remembered how, in our past life, after my "accident," she had used my own money to slowly and systematically buy out shares in my family's business. She had befriended my grieving parents, offering them comfort while her lawyers picked their company apart, piece by piece, until there was nothing left. She had feasted on our tragedy.

Now, the feast was over.

As if on cue, my phone lit up with her name. Chloe.

A jolt of pure, primal fear shot through me. My hand trembled as I looked at the screen. It was the same fear I felt when I was trapped in that burning car, the same visceral dread. Even now, knowing what I knew, a part of me was still terrified of her.

I let it ring, counting each chime. On the sixth ring, I took a deep breath and answered, putting it on speaker.

"Ethan, what the hell is going on?" Her voice wasn't the sweet, melodic tone she used for her online audience. It was sharp, cold, and demanding. "My card was just declined. At Chanel. Do you have any idea how embarrassing that was?"

There was no "hello." No "where were you last night?" Just anger. Just entitlement.

"I froze the account," I said, keeping my voice flat.

There was a moment of stunned silence on the other end.

"You what? Why would you do that? Are you insane?"

"We're no longer getting married, Chloe. There's no reason for you to have access to my finances."

Her laugh was harsh, humorless. "Don't be ridiculous, Ethan. We had a little spat. You're overreacting. Now turn the card back on. I have a brunch reservation."

This was the Chloe I knew. The real one. The one who believed the world revolved around her.

Then she said something that made the blood freeze in my veins.

"Is this about Liam? Are you really going to be this pathetic? I thought we were past you trying to use his health to ruin my life."

My breath caught in my throat. Use his health to ruin my life. That's what she had screamed at me in our last life, right after Liam had fallen. She had accused me of waving his diagnosis around like a weapon.

How could she know that? How could she use those exact words?

Unless...

The horrifying thought took root in my mind. What if I wasn't the only one who came back?

My mind raced, connecting dots I hadn't seen before. Her confidence. Her immediate aggression. It wasn't just arrogance, it was the certainty of someone who thought they held all the cards, who thought they had already won this game once before.

I had to be careful. I had to play dumb.

"His health?" I asked, forcing a note of confusion into my voice. "What are you talking about? What's wrong with Liam?"

I had to know. I had to hear her say it.

There was another pause. I could almost hear the gears turning in her head, recalculating.

"Don't play stupid with me, Ethan," she snapped, but there was a flicker of uncertainty in her tone now. "You know exactly what I'm talking about."

"No, Chloe, I don't," I insisted, pressing the advantage. "You're the one who brought up Liam. And you're the one talking about his health. So why don't you tell me? What's wrong with him?"

She was cornered. I had shredded the only proof. It was my word against hers.

"You know what? Forget it," she said suddenly, her voice dripping with disdain. "This is clearly not working. My parents never approved of you anyway. They always said I could do better."

It was a classic Chloe move. When backed into a corner, change the subject and go on the attack.

"Consider the engagement officially over," she declared. "I'll have my assistant drop off the ring tomorrow. Don't call me again."

She hung up.

I stared at the phone, my heart pounding. She was reborn. I was sure of it. This wasn't just a breakup anymore. It was a war, and she had just made the first move, thinking she was ending it.

Two hours later, the war escalated.

Chloe posted on all her social media platforms. It was a professionally shot photo of her and Liam, their faces pressed together, beaming. Liam was holding her left hand, where a massive new diamond ring sat, sparkling for the camera.

The caption read: "Sometimes you have to leave the past behind to find your true future. So excited to announce my engagement to the love of my life, Liam O'Connell! Can't wait to become Mrs. O'Connell!"

And then, the final, brutal twist. At the bottom of the post, in a smaller, elegant font, was the wedding date.

It was the same date we were supposed to get married.