Chapter 1

The grand hall of the Thompson estate was filled with twenty young women, all dressed in elegant gowns, their faces a mixture of hope and anxiety. We were the potential brides for Ethan Thompson, the sole heir to the Thompson fortune, and today, on his twenty-third birthday, one of us would be chosen.

The selection was a cruel spectacle they called a "blind pick."

"In this box," Eleanor Thompson, Ethan' s mother, announced with a practiced smile, "are twenty cards. Nineteen are white. One is red. The woman who draws the red card will become my daughter-in-law."

Her voice was smooth, but her eyes were cold. It was a game of chance, a lottery for a life of unimaginable wealth and a loveless marriage.

I watched as the other women stepped forward, their hands trembling as they reached into the ornate box. My own heart was a block of ice in my chest.

I remembered this day. In my past life, my hand had been the one to pull out that scarlet card. I thought it was the beginning of a fairy tale.

It was the beginning of hell.

Ethan' s true love, Scarlett Hayes, died in a car accident just a month after our engagement. He was in the car with her, but he survived with a severe head injury and partial amnesia. When he woke up, he remembered loving Scarlett, and he was convinced I had orchestrated the crash to get her out of the way.

He never believed me. He never listened. The love we once shared as children, long before Scarlett, vanished. It was replaced by a burning hatred that consumed him.

On our wedding day, he didn't kiss me. He dragged me into our new home, his eyes filled with a terrifying darkness.

"You took her from me," he had whispered, his hands tightening around my throat. "Now I'll take everything from you."

He beat me until I could no longer stand. Then he doused the room in gasoline. The last thing I saw was his silhouette against the rising flames, his face twisted with a sick satisfaction. The fire ate my skin, the smoke filled my lungs, and I died a slow, agonizing death, branded a murderer and unloved.

But I didn't stay dead.

I opened my eyes, and I was back here, in this suffocatingly grand hall, on the day of the blind pick. The air still smelled of roses and champagne, not smoke and ash. I was alive. I had a second chance.

Not a second chance at his love. A second chance to live.

"Chloe Miller, it's your turn," Eleanor Thompson called out, her voice impatient.

All eyes turned to me. I saw Scarlett standing near the front, her hands clasped together, a picture of nervous innocence. Her eyes, however, held a flicker of cunning ambition. She was the one who had manipulated Ethan' s grief, feeding his paranoia until it became an obsession.

I walked towards the box, my steps steady. I didn't even glance at Ethan, who was watching from his seat, his expression bored and indifferent. To him, we were all just cattle at an auction.

In my last life, my hand had gone to the right side of the box. I knew exactly where the red card was.

This time, I reached to the left and pulled out a plain white card. I held it up for everyone to see, my face a mask of calm.

A collective sigh of disappointment and relief rippled through the room.

I turned and walked back to my spot, my head held high. I could feel Ethan' s gaze on me, a brief flash of surprise in his eyes before he looked away.

It was Scarlett's turn next. She was the last one.

She walked forward, her movements delicate and hesitant. She looked at Ethan, her eyes welling with unshed tears, as if this whole process was a terrible burden for her fragile heart.

She reached into the box. Her hand went directly to the right side.

When she pulled her hand out, the red card was clutched between her fingers.

A gasp went through the crowd. Scarlett covered her mouth, her eyes wide with feigned shock. Then she looked at Ethan, a slow, triumphant smile spreading across her lips.

The guests began to whisper.

"Chloe Miller missed her chance. She was always so close to Ethan as a kid."

"Maybe she knew she wasn't good enough. Look at her, she doesn't even seem sad."

"Scarlett is the one who saved Ethan from that car wreck. She deserves it."

I ignored them. The pity and scorn of these people meant nothing to me. In my past life, I had craved their approval, their acceptance. I had loved Ethan with a desperation that had blinded me to his cruelty. Now, I felt nothing but a hollow echo of that pain.

Ethan stood up. He walked over to Scarlett, his eyes shining with an emotion I once thought was reserved for me.

"Scarlett," he said, his voice loud and clear. "You saved my life. It was always meant to be you."

He took her hand and kissed it, a grand gesture for the audience. Scarlett blushed, leaning into him.

His father, the stern Mr. Thompson, looked at me with a flicker of regret. "The choice has been made," he declared, his voice booming. "We will honor the result."

I remembered the words Ethan had spit at me in our past life, after he woke up from his coma.

"You're disgusting, Chloe. Every time I look at you, I wish it was you who died in that crash, not her."

He had forgotten everything. He had forgotten the promises he made to me under the old oak tree in our childhood, that he would marry me and only me. He had forgotten that he once called me his light, his reason for living. The amnesia had wiped the slate clean, and Scarlett and his mother had been there to write a new story, a story where I was the villain.

His revenge wasn't just for Scarlett. It was for the fragments of memory he couldn' t place, the unsettling feeling that something was wrong, a feeling he was told was guilt over being with me instead of his 'true love.'

This time, I wouldn't be part of his story.

I slipped out of the hall while they were celebrating. I pulled out my phone and dialed a number I hadn't called in years.

"Liam?" I said, my voice steady. "It's Chloe. I'm ready to leave. I need your help."