The Billionaire's Retribution

The searing pain was the last thing I knew.

A sharp, cold metal plunging into my belly, again and again.

My best friend, Tara, was screaming, a twisted rage on her face I' d never seen before, "Why couldn't it have been you?

You have everything!"

Her husband, Brian, held the knife, his eyes empty.

I watched my own blood pool on my marble floor as they staged a home invasion, taking over my life, my home, my wealth.

I watched my husband, shattered by grief, take his own life.

My baby, my husband, me – all of it, gone.

I died, clutching to the injustice of it all, wondering how the people I loved most could betray me so absolutely.

Why did they hate me so much just for having what they wanted?

Then I woke up, alive, in my Silicon Valley home, my hand resting on my still-pregnant belly.

And the front door opened, revealing Tara and Brian, suitcases in hand, their smiles dripping with false sweetness.

The last thing I remember is the searing pain, a sharp, cold metal plunging into my belly again and again. My best friend Tara was screaming, her face twisted with a rage I' d never seen before. "Why couldn't it have been you? You have everything!" Her husband, Brian, was the one holding the knife, his eyes empty.

I remember the sticky warmth of my own blood pooling on the marble floor of my own home. I remember my soul, or whatever was left of me, watching in silent horror as they staged a home invasion. I watched them take over my life, my home, my wealth. I watched as my husband, my sweet, strong Andrew, found my body and later, unable to bear the grief, took his own life. They destroyed everything. My baby, my husband, me. All of it, gone.

Then, I woke up.

Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows of my Silicon Valley home, glinting off the infinity pool outside. I was lying on my plush sofa, my hand resting on my still-pregnant belly. My daughter was safe inside me. It was real. I was alive.

The sound of the front door opening jolted me. Tara and Brian walked in, carrying suitcases. The memory of the blood and the knife was so vivid, I flinched.

"OMG, Gabby, this place is insane!" Tara' s voice, the same voice that had screamed curses at me as I died, was now dripping with false sweetness.

She dropped her bags and waddled over, her own pregnant belly prominent.

"You have to let us stay. Just for a little while, until our baby comes. Think of it as a baby shower gift for your future godson!"

Brian grinned, slinging an arm around her. "Yeah, Gabby. Tara's been telling me you're practically sisters. We can raise our kids together. It'll be perfect."

I stared at them. The smiling, expectant faces of my murderers. In my first life, I had welcomed them with open arms. I had been so happy for Tara, so eager to share everything. I had felt guilty for my success, for the chasm that had grown between our lives. That guilt had made me blind.

This time, there was no warmth in me. Only a cold, hard resolve that settled deep in my bones. I had been given a second chance, and I would not waste it. My daughter's life depended on it.

I forced a tight smile, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs. The urge to scream at them, to call the police, to tell them I knew what they were, was a physical pressure in my chest. But I couldn't. They hadn't done anything yet, not in this life.

"Wow, you guys just showed up," I said, my voice carefully neutral. I stood up, using my hand to support my back.

"We knew you wouldn't mind!" Tara chirped, already looking around the open-plan living room like she was measuring for new furniture. "And we have the most amazing idea. Since I'm having a boy and you're having a girl, we should totally betroth them! Like a little pact. It' ll be so cute!"

Brian nodded eagerly. "Yeah, a future power couple! Our son and your daughter. We gotta start planning for his future, you know? The best schools, the best tutors. He' s going to be a CEO, just like you."

The same words. The exact same, manipulative, greedy words they used last time. It was the "betrothal" that became their excuse to bleed me dry, demanding I pay for their unborn son's "future."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," I said, my voice firmer than I intended. Tara' s smile faltered for a second. "And the guest house... it's really for family. Andrew and I have plans for it."

"But we are family!" Tara pouted, her lower lip trembling. It was a performance I had fallen for a hundred times before.

"The guest house is for my parents when they visit," I lied smoothly. "But you can stay in one of the spare rooms in the main house for a few days, until you figure something out. We'll have to discuss anything more permanent with Andrew when he's back from his trip."

Their faces fell, but they tried to hide their disappointment. A few days in a spare room wasn't the same as having their own private house on my property.

"Oh. Okay, sure," Tara said, forcing a smile. "That's so sweet of you, Gabby."

They trudged up the stairs with their bags, their cheerful act already wearing thin. The moment they were out of sight, I pulled out my phone. I didn't call the police. I called the best security firm in the Bay Area.

"I need a full system," I told the man on the phone. "Top of the line. Cameras everywhere, inside and out. Motion sensors, silent alarms. And I want everything backed up to a secure cloud server, in real-time. Price is not an object. I need it installed today."

Within three hours, a team of discreet technicians was swarming my property, running wires and mounting tiny, almost invisible cameras. I had them put one in the hallway right outside their temporary room, one covering the living room, and a particularly clear one aimed directly at the large safe hidden behind a painting in my study.

I watched Tara and Brian from the kitchen, a cold satisfaction spreading through me. They were playing a game they didn't even know had started. This time, I was the one making the rules.