Chapter One
The first thing I felt was the softness of the silk sheets, a luxury I hadn't known in the final, bitter months of my life. The second was the pounding headache, the kind that came after too many glasses of champagne and a dizzying spin on the dance floor. But the last memory I had wasn't of a gala. It was the screech of tires, the shattering of glass, and the cold, unyielding sensation of metal tearing through my car. I remembered the final, sickening crunch and a flash of blinding light, followed by a dark, echoing void.
I gasped, sitting bolt upright in a bed that was far too large and a room that was far too familiar. The air smelled of jasmine and expensive perfume, the same scent I had chosen for my younger self. This was my old room in my father's penthouse. The last time I had seen this room, I had been packing the last of my meager belongings, my reputation in tatters and my life a ruin.
Dazed, I stumbled out of the bed and toward the full-length mirror. Reflected back at me wasn't the broken, weary woman I had become, but the vibrant, wide-eyed girl I used to be. My long, dark hair was still perfectly styled, my skin was flawless, and a shimmering, diamond-encrusted bracelet was fastened around my wrist—a gift from my so-called best friend. I had sold that bracelet years ago just to afford a few days' rent.
A cold dread began to curl in my stomach. Was this some kind of sick, luxurious afterlife? Or a torment designed just for me? I fumbled for the phone on my bedside table, my hands trembling. The date on the screen was July 15th, 2015.
It was the day of Julian Hayes's annual charity gala.
The day I had publicly accused him of corporate sabotage, fueled by a half-truth fed to me by the very people who were now my "friends." My reckless words had been the first domino to fall in the long, tragic chain that led to my family's ruin and my own demise.
A knock on the door jolted me. "Elara? You'll be late for the gala." It was the voice of my personal assistant, a woman I had dismissed years later after discovering she was reporting back to my conniving stepmother.
My heart hammered against my ribs. I had a choice to make. I could go to that gala, say those horrible words, and start down the same path that would end with my death. Or I could make a different choice. A right choice.
This wasn't a nightmare. This was a second chance. And I would not waste it.