Chapter 1

The world came back in a suffocating rush, the familiar scent of lavender laundry detergent and old books filling my nose. I was sitting at my desk in my college dorm room, the afternoon sun casting a warm stripe across my textbook. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic, wild rhythm that didn't belong to the quiet room.

One moment, there was nothing. A cold, endless black. The last thing I remembered was the chilling finality of a flatline, the taste of despair so thick it felt like I was drowning in it.

Then, this. My room. My life. Before it all went wrong.

My cell phone buzzed on the desk. The screen lit up with a name that made my blood run cold.

Chloe.

The text message preview was a ghost from a past I had already died in.

`Hey sis! Girls' night! Let's celebrate our bday tonight at Club Neon! Can't wait! xo`

I stared at the phone, my breath caught in my throat. This was the day. The exact day my life had been destroyed. It wasn't a dream. It was real. I was back.

The memories of my first run through this life crashed over me like a tidal wave. The hope I felt when I received this text. The pathetic desire to finally fix the broken bridge between my half-sister and me. Our parents had always adored Chloe. She was the fragile, beautiful one, the one who could twist them around her little finger with a single tear. I was the smart one, the ambitious one, the one they were proud of but never truly seemed to love with that same all-consuming passion.

I remembered walking into Club Neon, a genuine smile on my face, ready to celebrate our shared birthday. And then the chaos. The sudden flashing lights weren't from the club's strobes but from police cars. Chloe, pointing a trembling finger at me, her face a perfect mask of heartbroken betrayal.

"It was Olivia! She made Brandon hold the drugs! She's always been jealous of me!"

Her boyfriend, Brandon Miller, played his part perfectly. He stood there, head bowed in shame, "confessing" to the police.

"She said if I didn't do it, she'd ruin my life. She was obsessed with Chloe, wanted everything she had."

It was a lie. A perfectly constructed, soul-crushing lie.

The consequences were swift and brutal. The whispers on campus became shouts. My friends backed away, their eyes filled with judgment. The prestigious internship I had worked my entire college career for was revoked, the offer rescinded in a cold, one-sentence email. I was a pariah.

Then came the criminal charges. Possession with intent to distribute. My parents, Mr. and Mrs. Reynolds, begged me to confess, to take a plea deal. They believed Chloe. They always believed Chloe.

"Olivia, how could you do this to your sister?" my mother had sobbed, not at me, but for Chloe's "trauma."

My father just looked at me with a profound disappointment that broke the last piece of my heart.

I was convicted. My life spiraled downwards into a black hole of wrongful conviction, depression, and absolute despair. I lost everything-my future, my reputation, my family, and finally, my will to live.

In the void after my death, the truth had been revealed to me, a final, cruel cosmic joke. I saw it all. I saw Chloe and Brandon in his apartment, days before our birthday, laughing as they planned my downfall. Chloe, her face twisted with a vicious envy I had never allowed myself to see, wanted me gone. She couldn't stand the thought of my success, of me potentially winning more of our parents' attention with my internship. Brandon, facing his own drug charges from a previous incident, saw a perfect way out. Frame the nerdy, socially awkward half-sister. Who would believe me over the popular, perfect couple?

No one did.

But now, I was back. I was breathing. The sun was warm on my skin. And the phone was still buzzing with the invitation to my own execution.

A cold, hard clarity settled over me, pushing aside the panic. The despair was gone, replaced by something new. It was a steely, unbending resolve. The naive, hopeful Olivia who wanted her sister's love was dead. She had died in a cold prison cell, her name disgraced.

The woman who sat in this chair now was a ghost with a second chance.

I picked up the phone. My fingers didn't tremble.

I was not just going to survive this time. I was going to make them pay. I was going to take back my life, and I was going to burn theirs to the ground.

I typed a reply, a single word that sealed their fate.

`Okay.`