Vivian's POV
Three of us.
Three versions of my sister standing in this ballroom, and I'm the only person who isn't shocked.
Because I remember everything.
I remember pushing Mira's car off that bridge five years from now. I remember the guilt that ate me alive afterward. I remember dying myself in a jail cell, alone and hated.
And I remember waking up six months ago, back in my old bedroom, with a chance to do everything differently.
But I'm not the only one who came back.
Mira did too. My sister, with her perfect memory and her secret plans. I've been watching her for three months, waiting for her to show that she knows what I did. Waiting for her revenge.
Instead, she stole Adrian.
My Adrian. The one I was going to marry. The rich one. The powerful one.
She left me with Ethan—the backup brother. The second choice.
And now there are three of her, which means something has gone horribly, impossibly wrong with our second chance.
"Vivian?" Ethan touches my arm, confused. "Why are there three Miras?"
I can't answer. My throat is too tight.
Because I'm starting to understand something frightening. If there are three Miras, maybe there are—
"Ladies and gentlemen!" Another voice rings out across the hall. "I believe there's been some confusion about tonight's arrangements."
Everyone turns.
A woman goes into the ballroom. She's wearing an expensive dress, her makeup is beautiful, and she's smiling like she owns the place.
She has my face.
"No," I whisper.
But she's already moving toward Mr. Blackwell, bold and confident. "I apologize for the wait. Traffic was bad. But I'm here now, ready to make my choice."
Mr. Blackwell frowns. "Who are you?"
"Vivian Chen," she says easily. "The oldest daughter. The one who should have been here from the beginning."
"I'm Vivian Chen!" I shout, but my voice comes out weak. Scared.
The other Vivian—the confident one—turns to look at me. And her smile is cold. Knowing.
"Are you?" she asks softly. "Are you really?"
My stomach drops.
Because suddenly I'm not sure.
I remember dying in jail. I remember waking up in the past. But what if I'm not the real Vivian? What if I'm just a copy? A mistake?
What if the real Vivian is standing in front of me right now, and I'm the imposter?
"This is insane," Ethan mutters beside me. "There can't be two Vivians and three Miras. That's not possible."
But it is possible. Because we're living it.
Mr. Blackwell lifts his hands for silence. "Everyone, please calm down. We'll sort this out. Marcus, call security. We need to—"
"Wait." One of the Miras steps forward. The one standing closest to Adrian. She looks scared but determined. "I can explain. Or at least, I can try."
"Please do," Mr. Blackwell says coldly.
"We're all from different timelines," Mira says. Her voice shakes but stays steady. "Different versions of the same people, all pulled back to this moment. Some of us remember the future. Some of us are living it for the first time. And someone—" she looks around the room "—someone is doing this on purpose."
"Why?" Adrian asks. He's still holding her hand. My Adrian. The one I was going to marry.
"Because they want to change which version survives," Mira answers. "They want to replace the original Vivian and Mira with copies they can control."
I feel sick. "Who would do that?"
"Someone who needs us gone," Mira says, looking straight at me. "Someone who gains from our deaths. Someone who—"
A gunshot blasts through the room.
Everyone screams. People dive for cover.
But I don't move. Because I'm watching one of the Miras fall.
Not the one with Adrian. A different one. She crumples to the floor, blood spreading across her dress.
"No!" Another Mira runs toward her fallen copy. "No, no, no—"
The third Mira stands absolutely still, her face blank.
And I realize with horror that she's smiling.
"One down," she says quietly. "Four to go."
"Four?" Ethan gasps beside me. "What does that mean?"
The smiling Mira turns to look at all of us. "Did you really think there were only three of me and two of Vivian? How naive." She laughs—a cold, empty sound. "There are six copies in this room right now. Three Miras. Three Vivians. All fighting for the right to live."
"That's impossible," I breathe.
"Is it?" She tilts her head. "Tell me, Vivian—which one are you? The original who killed her sister? The copy who came back to fix things? Or the third version who doesn't remember any of it?"
I open my mouth but no words come out.
Because I don't know.
I remember dying in jail. But do I remember being born? Do I remember childhood? Or are those just implanted memories? Stories I was told?
What if I'm not real?
"The rules are simple," the smiling Mira announces to the room. "Only one Mira and one Vivian can leave this night alive. The others must die. And whoever survives—" she looks at Adrian and Ethan "—gets to choose which brother they want."
"This is insane!" Adrian shouts. "I won't participate in—"
"You already are," the happy Mira interrupts. "You picked me. Or her. Or maybe the one who's bleeding out on the floor. But you picked a Mira. And that choice counts. It chooses which version gets to live."
Security guards rush in, but they freeze when they see the scene. Multiple identical women. Blood on the floor. Chaos.
"Nobody move!" Marcus orders. "Everyone stay calm!"
But peace is impossible.
Because the other Vivian—the confident one who walked in late—is walking toward me now. Her smile is wicked.
"I know which one you are," she says. "You're the guilty one. The killer. The one who doesn't deserve to exist."
"Stay away from me," I warn.
"Or what?" She laughs. "You'll kill me too? Add another murder to your list?"
"I didn't—" I start, but she cuts me off.
"You did. You will. It's what you do, Vivian. It's who you are." She leans closer. "And that's why you're going to die tonight. Because the world doesn't let murderers have second chances."
She reaches into her bag.
I see the flash of metal.
A knife.
"Vivian!" Ethan yells, grabbing my arm. "Run!"
But I can't run. My feet won't move.
Because I'm looking at the knife in the other Vivian's hand, and I'm remembering something.
This knife. I've seen it before.
In prison. In my cell. The tool I used to— "Oh God," I whisper. "I didn't die in prison, did I?"
The other Vivian's smile gets wider. "No. You didn't. You escaped. You ran. You found a way to move back in time. And then—" she raises the knife "—you killed the real Vivian and took her place."
The words hit me like a truck.
I'm not the real Vivian.
I'm the killer who stole her body. "That's right," the other Vivian says. "You're the fake. And I'm the original, come to take back what you stole."
She comes at me with the knife.
Ethan shoves me aside.
The blade sinks into his chest.
My backup brother. My second choice. My husband-to-be.
He falls, blood pouring from the cut, his eyes wide with shock.
And the last thing I hear before everything goes dark is Adrian's voice, cold and deadly: "Wrong brother."