Amber totaled my Porsche at 125 mph, killing a family of three—then gave my name to police. "Idiots who couldn't look both ways!" she spat. "I'm a Chase heir—who'd dare touch me?" Last life, she'd borrowed my car "to visit parents." Instead, she ran over a young family—twice. When their relatives came demanding justice, she sneered: "Three cheap lives want my attention?" That mob butchered me in my living room. My fortune went to Amber. My grieving father drove off a cliff after her online smear campaign. Now I've rewound to that day—when she steals my car, my name, and three lives. 1 I remember bleeding out from a dozen stab wounds. Before the world went dark, I heard my sister-in-law’s triumphant laugh. “Oh, Wendy,” she’d cooed, “I’m just as smart as you, just as pretty. Why did you get to marry Leo? The handsome one, the successful one? Well, now you’re both dead, and all that money… it’s finally mine.” Her laughter was the last thing I heard as I died, my eyes wide open with rage. Perhaps fate itself pitied the injustice I’d suffered, because I was given a second chance. I’m reborn. It’s the day the victims’ family comes for me. The clamor of taxi drivers hawking for fares outside the airport terminal fills the air. A surge of adrenaline, cold and sharp, courses through me. I clutch my phone, waiting. Three seconds later, just as I predicted, it rings. It’s Amber. “Wendy! Oh my god, you won’t believe what happened! Someone sideswiped the car while it was parked!” The same lie she told me last time. Back then, thinking of her husband, Mark, working his back-breaking construction job and Amber having no income, I told her not to worry about the repairs. “Amber, do you need to pay them? It’s my car, I’ll cover it.” I repeat the same line, a perfect echo of my past self. “Yes, yes! I didn’t want to file an insurance claim without you here… It’s just… a few ten thousand dollars. You’re not mad, are you? When will you be home?” “Of course not. I’m almost home now. I’ll wire you the money right away.” “Wait! No, don’t send it to me—” I hang up before she can finish. Last time, she had me wire the money directly to the victims’ family. That wire transfer was the nail in my coffin, the ultimate proof of my “guilt.” Her asking when I’d be home was to time the mob’s arrival perfectly. But I am no longer the naive, trusting Wendy Chase. If she wants to play a game, I’ll play to win. The debt for my own brutal murder, and for my father being shattered to pieces at the bottom of a ravine… I will collect on every last drop. 2 After my husband, Leo, died in an accident two years into our marriage, I stayed with his mother to care for her, to honor his memory. I had just returned from a business trip that day when Amber called. She said Mark was away, and she needed a car. We were family, and we’d always gotten along, so I agreed without a second thought. I never imagined she would push the Porsche to 125 mph on a city street. She didn’t even slow down in a crowded pedestrian area. That’s when she hit them. The young family, about to step onto the crosswalk. The impact launched the infant from its mother’s arms. Amber didn’t call for help. She put the car in reverse and ran them over again, just to be sure. Her cruelty enraged the bystanders. But she, hiding behind my name, just screamed at them. “Three blind idiots threw themselves at my car! Just bought this thing, and now it’s tainted with bad luck!” When a witness yelled at her to call an ambulance, she scoffed. “I’m the Chase heiress. Who do you think you’re talking to? You call them. If they’re not dead yet, whoever calls pays the medical bills! Besides, there are no cameras here.” With that, she sped off, leaving a shattered family to die on the pavement. She then called me, fed me the lie about a fender-bender, and tricked me into wiring “compensation” money to the grieving family. The family intended to lay their loved ones to rest before seeking justice. But Amber couldn’t wait. She put on a pair of oversized sunglasses, a festive pink Chanel-style tweed dress, and crashed their wake with a few hired bodyguards. “Three cheap lives, and I, Wendy Chase, had to come see for myself. I’ve sent you the funeral money. Don’t bother me about this again.” The family tried to stop her, but her bodyguards cleared a path. So, when I returned home, their rage found its target. They stormed the house, deaf to my pleas and explanations, and stabbed me dozens of times. I bled out on the floor, not a single inch of my body left unscathed. My father was devastated. He knew I could never do such a thing and began his own investigation. When Amber found out, she hired a PR team to fan the flames online. An army of trolls, fueled by class hatred, launched a coordinated smear campaign, flooding the IRS with bogus tips about our company. My father, exhausted, juggling the investigation and the corporate crisis, drove off a cliff. Only after I died did I learn it was all Amber’s plot. She was jealous that Leo was a better businessman than Mark. She was jealous of the life of luxury I lived. She forgot that I was born into that life. I was the Chase heiress. My good fortune had nothing to do with the man I married. The thought that she destroyed my father and me for such petty reasons makes me want to tear her apart with my bare hands. But that would be too easy. The agony I suffered in my last life? She’s going to experience every second of it. I have fifty minutes until they arrive. Not enough time to hire security. As I frantically wonder how to protect myself, a street vendor outside the airport catches my eye. 3 Amber is calling me again and again, saying the family is waiting for me for dinner. I calmly walk over to a street cart and buy a roasted sweet potato, deliberately overpaying. As expected, the vendor chases after me. “Miss, you paid too much! And you left your airline ticket!” “It’s fine, I don’t have any small change,” I say, smiling. “As for the ticket, it’s from my trip. It’s useless now.” I remember this man. He was the one who delivered the final, fatal stab in my last life. He is the victim’s older brother, Raymond. He has the solid build of a military man. The fact that he chased me down for a few extra dollars tells me he’s a decent person at his core. Showing him my round-trip ticket is my alibi. It proves I haven’t been in Southport for days. “Here’s your change,” he says, pressing the money into my hand. “I’m closing up now. I’ve got urgent business in the Northwood district.” I feign a delighted surprise. “What a coincidence! I live there too. Look, it’s impossible to get a cab right now, and my family’s waiting. How about I pay you two hundred bucks for a ride?” Raymond hesitates for a moment. “Alright, get in. But we have to hurry. I’ve got life-or-death business to attend to.” My life, his death. He’s not wrong. On the way, Amber bombards me with texts. My father calls too, worried. I tell him I’m fine and to stay home. This time, I won’t let him risk anything for me. As we pull up, I can see on my phone’s security feed that the iron gate to my in-laws’ house has been forced open. A group of large, angry men are storming the yard. “Which one of you is the Chase heiress? Get your ass out here!” Amber, dressed down in frumpy clothes with a bare face, sees them, and the smug smile vanishes from her face. She clearly didn’t expect me to be late. The leader of the group grabs her. I can’t hear what they’re saying, but Amber collapses to the ground, shaking her head frantically. When we get to the gate, Raymond sees me standing next to him and freezes. “Miss… you live here?” “I do. Thanks for the ride.” As I move to enter, he grabs my arm. “Hey, maybe you should… take a walk around the block or something. Inside, it’s…” “Amber! What’s going on?” I cut him off, rushing into the yard. Neighbors are already gathering outside the fence of the three-story house, their eyes glued to the drama unfolding in the yard. Amber scrambles to her feet and grabs my hand. “She’s the one! That’s Wendy Chase! Wendy, how could you do something so monstrous? We can’t protect you from this!” A wave of murmurs ripples through the onlookers. “So it was Leo’s wife who hit that family!” “She always seemed so quiet and gentle. Who knew she was so vicious? That baby was only a month old… and she ran them over again and again!” Their words ignite the family’s grief-fueled rage. The man in front of me, the victim’s other brother, shoves me to the ground. “You bitch! So it was you! The expensive clothes, the attitude… it all fits!” The memory of my last life floods back, and I start to tremble. “It wasn’t me! I didn’t do it! Sir, please, let’s talk about this! Are you sure it was me?” The man, Kane, snarls. “What, not so tough now, are you? Weren’t you so high and mighty when you were screaming about being the Chase heiress? Scared now?” I shake my head, turning to Amber. “Amber, you’ve been using my car for the past few days, haven’t you?” “Shut up! It was you, and you know it!” Kane raises a knife over my head. Raymond lunges from behind, wrapping his arms around his brother. “Kane, wait! I think something’s wrong here! This woman just got off a plane. She came here with me. I saw her ticket—she hasn’t even been in Southport! I don’t think it was her!”
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