The day the official buyout notice for my mother’s old house arrived, I received a text from an unknown number claiming to be my future self. "In two weeks, the city will release a geological report declaring the redevelopment zone unstable. The buyout will be canceled. If you don’t want to get stuck with a worthless piece of property, sell it now!" Without a single shred of hesitation, I sold the house—which was set to net me ten million dollars in government compensation—to a buyer for a mere five million. As soon as the paperwork was finalized, I walked back to the apartment I shared with my boyfriend, Ryan. I opened the front door to find his self-proclaimed "tomboy best friend," Roxy, draped over his lap. She was wearing my favorite silk camisole nightgown, laughing so hard her chest shook against his shoulder. "I swear to God, Ryan, it was the easiest scam of my life!" she wheezed, her voice dripping with malice. "I just bought a burner phone, pretended to be her from the future, and told her the redevelopment was getting canceled. And that absolute idiot actually bought it! She sold a ten-million-dollar property for half-price!" She slid her hand suggestive down Ryan’s thigh. "Come here, let me check if sleeping with that brainless charity case has made you go soft, too." I stood in the doorway, my face completely expressionless. I knew the text was fake. I knew it was a scam. But what they didn't know was that I actually had lived through this before. I was the one who had truly returned from the future. … The moment Ryan saw me standing there, his entire body went rigid. He scrambled to push Roxy off his lap, his voice trembling as he tried to smooth things over. "Gwen... hey. Don’t get the wrong idea..." Roxy ran a hand through her hair, deliberately tilting her head to expose a fresh, angry red mark on her collarbone. She looked at me, her eyes bright with flushed, triumphant defiance. "Oh, come on, Gwen. A bro can sit on her boy's lap, can't she? Or are you going to throw another one of your petty little tantrums?" Ryan offered a weak, defensive shrug. "Gwen, you know how she is. I don’t even see her as a girl. We’re basically brothers. It’s just how we joke around." Roxy grabbed Ryan’s hand and pressed it flat against her chest, laughing with a terrifying lack of shame. "Exactly. I wouldn't touch this idiot with a ten-foot pole. See? Feeling each other up is like rubbing my own hands together. Zero chemistry. Right, Ryan?" Ryan’s Adam’s apple bobbed. His eyes lingered on her skin with a hunger that made my stomach turn. I felt like an intruder in my own home, a third wheel to their sickening, unspoken domesticity. Without saying a word, I walked past the couch and pushed open the door to the master bedroom. The heavy, unmistakable scent of sex hit me instantly. Our sheets were tangled, and their discarded underwear lay scattered across the floor. On the nightstand, the framed photo of Ryan and me had been knocked over, the glass shattered into a dozen jagged pieces. Ryan hurried in behind me, his tone suddenly firm, bordering on a command. "She’s been having terrible nightmares lately, Gwen. She can’t fall asleep unless someone’s with her. I'm letting her have the master bedroom for a few days. You can crash in the guest room." When I didn't immediately argue, he quickly added, "Look, I swear to you, she’s just my bro. Even if we sleep in the same bed, I have zero interest in her. Don't start a fight over this. Just be reasonable." I looked down at the trash can beside the bed. Several used condom wrappers clung to the plastic liner. I swallowed the bitter, metallic taste of grief rising in my throat and forced my voice to remain flat. "Fine." Ryan blinked, clearly taken aback. He had expected the usual—screaming, crying, the hysterical rage of a woman pushed to her absolute limit. "You're... not mad?" I forced a tight, empty smile. "Why would I be? You're brothers. It’s completely normal for brothers to sleep in the same bed, isn't it?" He stared at me, his brow furrowed, searching my face for any sign of a trap. Before he could speak, a sharp screech echoed from the living room, followed by Roxy's demanding yell. "Ryan! Get your ass back in here right now! Your back-scrubbing technique is trash, and you stopped before I was done. Come back and serve your daddy!" I had already decided to let Ryan go. I had already decided to ruin him. But as I watched him sprint back to her without a second thought, a physical ache still bloomed behind my ribs. I pulled my suitcase from the closet and began packing. But when I unlocked my jewelry box inside the dresser drawer, my breath caught. The gold filigree bracelet—the only heirloom my mother had left me—was gone. Only two people in the world knew the combination to that drawer: me and Ryan. In my previous life, today was the exact day Roxy had moved in and claimed our bedroom. Back then, I had lost my mind. I had screamed at them, calling Roxy every vile name in the book. Ryan had slapped me across the face, storming out to comfort a "crying" Roxy, leaving me alone on the bedroom floor to weep in the dark. I had been so consumed by the betrayal that I hadn't realized my mother's bracelet was missing until it was far too late. Until I was already dead. I walked out of the bedroom, my hands trembling. The sound of muffled giggles and running water drifted from the guest bathroom. I pushed the door open. Ryan was standing over the bathtub, his shirt off, rubbing a sponge over Roxy’s bare back as she sat in the water. "Ah!" Roxy shrieked, covering her chest in a highly performative display of modesty. "Gwen, are you insane? Do you have zero respect for boundaries? Don't you know the difference between men and women?" Ryan immediately stepped in front of her, shielding her body from my gaze, his eyes blazing with fury. "Gwen! This is too much!" I quietly lowered the phone I had used to record them. The sheer, unadulterated hypocrisy of it was almost comedic. A grown woman was letting my boyfriend wash her naked body, yet she was lecturing me on boundaries. In the past, every time Ryan slipped out of bed in the dead of night because Roxy called, he told me I was being insecure. When they kissed at a party, he claimed it was just a stupid dare, mocking me for being unable to take a joke. Even when I caught them tangled in our sheets, his friends called me crazy, telling me I was "ruining the vibe." They insisted they were just friends. If they wanted to be together, they argued, they would have done it years ago. He wouldn't have proposed to me. Now, they stood together like an allied front, with Roxy wrapped in a towel, glaring at me from behind Ryan’s shoulder. Roxy smacked his arm playfully. "Your wife just saw your daddy naked, Ryan! Are you just going to stand there? I thought you were a man! You weren't this quiet when you were making me scream earlier!" Ryan turned his anger back to me. "Gwen, I’ve explained this a thousand times. We are friends. I was just helping her wash her back. It’s not a big deal! Why do you always have to make that face?" Seeing my silence, his tone softened into a patronizing coo. "Come on, babe. Just apologize to her. She’s incredibly forgiving. She’ll let it go." I stared into his eyes, refusing to budge. Just as his jaw tightened in anger, I threw the empty jewelry box at his chest. "Where is my mother's bracelet, Ryan? Did you steal it?" He flinched, his eyes darting away. "Steal? That’s a pretty harsh word, don't you think? We’re getting married, Gwen. What’s yours is mine. You never even wear the damn thing anyway. I sold it to help Roxy put a down payment on her new place." I stared at him, my vision blurring. "You knew that was the only thing I had left of her!" Roxy polished her nails against her towel, speaking as if she were discussing the weather. "Honestly, if Ryan hadn't insisted on buying his favorite bro a house to show his appreciation, I wouldn't even want that dusty old heirloom. It belongs to a dead woman. It's bad luck." She paused, letting out a sharp chuckle as she looked at my stunned face. "Oh, wait. Did you not tell her, Ryan? The down payment for the house I bought? It’s the one she just sold. The one we told her wasn't getting redeveloped." My chest tightened so hard I could barely breathe. I looked at Ryan. His guilty, averted gaze was all the confirmation I needed. But even if he had sold the bracelet, it was only worth a few thousand dollars. Where did he get the rest of the money? A horrible realization washed over me. With shaking fingers, I opened my banking app and logged into our joint savings account. Current Balance: $3.15. Recipient: Roxy Duncan. Transaction Note: Voluntary Gift. My knees buckled. I had to grab the doorframe to keep from collapsing. "Ryan... that was our wedding fund! We saved for five years to buy a home!" For five long years, I had skipped meals, worn thrifted clothes, and put away nearly every spare dollar I had. When my mother passed away a year ago, I put her entire six-hundred-thousand-dollar life insurance payout into that account. One point two million dollars. All of it, gone. Ryan reached out, his voice taking on a hushed, pleading quality. "Gwen, Roxy is family. She’s not some stranger. You have me. We can always earn the money back. But Roxy doesn't have anyone. If she doesn't have a house of her own, what kind of security does she have?" "What does her security have to do with you?!" I screamed, the tears finally spilling over. "That was our money!" His face darkened. "Don't be so selfish, Gwen. Frankly, you should be thanking her. If she hadn't sent you that text, you would have been stuck with a worthless house. At least this way, we walked away with five million from the sale!" The absurdity of it was suffocating. I started to laugh, though it sounded more like a sob. "So, I should thank you? For stealing my inheritance, my mother’s jewelry, and tricking me out of a ten-million-dollar property?" "It wasn't a trick!" Ryan snapped. "You were the one stupid enough to believe the text and sell it. The property is only worth one point five million on the open market. We did you a favor by getting Tyler to buy it for five!" I looked at him, feeling a sudden, chilling sense of clarity. They had no idea. In my previous life, I hadn't believed the text. I had held onto the house, so I never met the buyer. But in this life, the buyer was a man named Tyler Duncan—Roxy's younger brother. The moment I saw him at the closing, my blood had run cold. He had the exact same cold, predatory eyes as the man who had kidnapped, assaulted, and ultimately murdered me on the night of my wedding in my past life. After my death, my soul had lingered. I had watched as Roxy wore my wedding dress, telling the guests I had run away in a fit of jealousy, and successfully married Ryan in my place. Within days, my body was found. As my legal spouse, Ryan inherited my mother's redeveloped property, making him and Roxy wealthy beyond their wildest dreams. But their victory had been short-lived. A week later, the city actually did release the geological survey, canceling the buyout. Their dreams of easy wealth shattered instantly. My murder hadn't been a random act of violence. It had been a calculated execution, orchestrated by Roxy from the very beginning. I stared at Ryan, a dark, venomous seed of suspicion blooming in my chest. Was he in on it, too? Was he the one who helped her kill me? "Get the bracelet back," I whispered, my voice cold and dead. "Get my one point two million dollars back. If it’s not in my account by tomorrow, I’m calling the police." I grabbed my suitcase and walked toward the front door. Behind me, Roxy let out a loud, mocking laugh. "See, Ryan? I told you she only cared about your money. She’s a parasite. Honestly, it's a blessing her mother died when she did. Otherwise, that old woman would still be draining your bank account." I froze. I turned around slowly, locking eyes with Ryan, who had quickly reached over to cover Roxy's mouth. His face had gone entirely pale. "What did she just say?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper. Ryan stammered, unable to meet my eyes. Roxy yanked his hand away, rolling her eyes. "Oh, please. It’s been a year, Gwen. Who cares? I’m the one who ran her over." The room seemed to tilt. "I didn't mean to," Roxy continued, crossing her arms. "But when I hit her, her lower half was completely crushed. She was going to be a vegetable anyway. She saw my face, and I knew she’d sue me for everything I had. Ryan told me to wait in the car. We waited thirty minutes before calling the ambulance. Just to make sure she was gone." She scoffed. "It cost me over a thousand dollars in car repairs, by the way. I didn't even ask you to pay me back." I staggered backward, hitting the wall. The pain in my chest was so sharp, so physical, it felt like my heart was tearing in two. A year ago, I had been working late when Ryan called to tell me my mother had been in a hit-and-run. By the time I reached the hospital, she was already gone, covered in a white sheet. The shock had triggered a miscarriage; I lost our three-month-old baby that night. When I finally woke up days later, Ryan told me the driver was a destitute, single father dying of cancer. He begged me to sign a liability release to "spare the poor man's family," promising me it was what my mother would have wanted. I had trusted him blindly. I never knew the driver was Roxy. They had sat in a car, watching my mother bleed to death on the asphalt, waiting for the light to leave her eyes. "Gwen, listen to me," Ryan said, stepping forward and grabbing my shoulders. His grip was tight, desperate. "It was an accident. Your mother was old, she probably stepped into the street on purpose to get insurance money. If we had tried to save her, the medical bills would have ruined us. She would have been a paralyzed burden for the rest of our lives. I did what was best for us. I freed her from the pain, and I freed us from the debt." Three years ago, Ryan’s liver had failed. He needed a transplant, and my mother hadn't hesitated to give him a portion of hers. She had spent months in bed, her health permanently weakened, just so he could live. He had knelt at her bedside, weeping, swearing he would treat her like his own mother. And then he had watched her die. "We’re getting married in three days," Ryan pleaded, his hands shaking as he held my face. "Don't ruin this. I let Roxy wear your dress just to get it out of her system. You can wear a bridesmaid dress for the ceremony, okay? I love you. I’m marrying you. She’s just a tomboy, nobody wants her. But you have me." The wedding. I thought of the horror of my past life, of the cold ground, of the breath leaving my body. I clenched my teeth, forcing the hatred down into the darkest corner of my soul. "Okay," I whispered. We would settle everything. Every single debt. On the morning of the wedding, I sat in the bridal suite, dressed in a plain bridesmaid gown. The door clicked open. A man wearing a medical mask slipped into the room. Before I could scream, a sweet, chemical-smelling rag was pressed over my nose. My vision faded to black as I was dragged out the back door. An hour later, the venue was in absolute chaos. The bride was missing, and the guests were growing restless. Roxy, already zipped into my intricate lace wedding gown, stood in the center of the dressing room, her face twisted in a look of smug satisfaction. "I knew she was petty," Roxy sighed, shaking her head. "She couldn't handle me wearing the dress, so she threw a tantrum and ran away, leaving you to look like a fool in front of your entire family." Ryan had dialed my number dozens of times, getting nothing but voicemail. His face was a mask of cold, humiliated rage. He walked out to the altar and announced to the crowd that I had run off, but that his "best friend" had graciously stepped in to save the day. The crowd applauded. Just as Ryan took the ring and prepared to slide it onto Roxy’s finger, the heavy double doors of the banquet hall were slammed open. A dozen uniformed police officers marched down the aisle, their badges gleaming under the chandeliers. "Roxy Duncan," the lead officer called out, his voice echoing through the vaulted ceiling. "You are under arrest for the kidnapping of Gwen Ives. Please step away from the altar."
? Continue the story here ?? ? Download the "MotoNovel" app ? search for "522968", and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel