Chapter 1: The Day Everything Changes
I can't breathe.
My lungs are burning, my throat is closing, and the hospital room ceiling is spinning above me. I try to lift my hand, but my arm feels like it weighs a thousand pounds.
"Adrian..." I whisper, but the word comes out as barely a rasp.
The door bursts open. Adrian Sinclair rushes in, his face pale, his eyes wide with panic. He's still in his suit from work. He must have come straight from the office.
"Elena!" He grabs my hand. "Elena, stay with me. The doctors are coming, just hold on—"
But I'm not looking at him. I'm looking past him, at the doorway.
Vanessa is standing there.
My stepsister. My sweet, delicate stepsister who I gave up everything for. She's leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching me die.
And she's smiling.
Not a big smile. Just a small curve of her lips. Satisfied. Triumphant.
The tea. The tea she brought me this afternoon, saying she wanted to apologize for our argument last week. The tea I drank while she sat across from me, chatting about wedding plans, about how happy she was that Adrian and I were finally getting married properly after all these years of a cold engagement.
She poisoned me.
My own sister poisoned me.
"Elena, please—" Adrian's voice cracks. His hand is shaking as he holds mine.
I want to tell him. I want to warn him about Vanessa, about my father, about all of them. But my tongue won't work. My vision is narrowing to a tunnel.
Twenty-eight years old. I'm twenty-eight years old, and this is how I die.
I gave her everything. My education. My inheritance. My life.
I gave up Oxford so she could go to the local university she wanted. I gave up my trust fund money so Dad could pay for her lifestyle. I gave up my mother's jewelry so she could wear it to parties. I played the perfect daughter, the perfect sister, the accommodating fiancée who never complained when Adrian worked late, who never asked for more.
And this is how it ends.
Vanessa's smile widens just a fraction.
Everything goes black.
I jolt awake gasping for air.
My hands fly to my throat. No pain. No burning. I can breathe.
I'm breathing.
I sit up so fast my head spins. I'm in a bed, but not a hospital bed. This bed is soft, familiar. The walls around me are cream-colored with gold trim. There's a vanity across from me with a mirror, and posters on the wall of bands I haven't listened to in years.
This is my bedroom.
My old bedroom at the Hartwell estate.
No. No, that's impossible. I moved out of this room when I was nineteen, after I gave up Oxford and started working as Dad's assistant to "learn the family business." This room was redecorated for Vanessa after I left.
I grab my phone from the nightstand with shaking hands.
The screen lights up.
June 15th, 2015.
I stare at the date. Read it again. Check the year three times.
I'm eighteen years old.
I drop the phone on the bed and press my hands to my face. My skin is smooth. No fine lines around my eyes. No tension headache from stress. I run to the vanity and look in the mirror.
An eighteen-year-old girl stares back at me. Round face, clear skin, wide eyes. My hair is longer than I've worn it in years, falling past my shoulders in natural waves. I'm wearing an old sleep shirt with a university logo on it.
I look exactly like I did ten years ago.
This is real. This is actually real.
I died. And I came back.
My legs give out and I sink onto the vanity chair. My mind is racing, trying to process this. I remember everything. Every single moment of the last ten years. The family meeting tomorrow. Giving up Oxford. Working for Dad while Vanessa went to university. Meeting Adrian at nineteen, awkward and forced. The cold, distant engagement that lasted years. The way he finally started to warm up to me when I was twenty-six. The proposal last month, a real one this time, with a ring he chose himself and words that actually meant something.
And then Vanessa, with her tea and her smile.
I press my palms against the vanity top to steady myself.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow is the day everything went wrong the first time.
Tomorrow morning, Dad will call a family meeting. He'll sit me down in his office with Claire and Vanessa. He'll put on his serious face and explain that he's been thinking about my future. That Oxford is so far away, so expensive. That Vanessa is more academically inclined, more serious about her studies. That maybe I should consider staying local, working with him instead.
Claire will dab at her eyes with a tissue. She'll talk about how hard it is to afford two university educations, how much stress it puts on the family. She'll say she just wants what's best for both her girls.
Vanessa will stay quiet, looking down at her hands, playing the part of the guilty younger sister who doesn't want to be a burden.
And I'll agree. I'll smile and say of course, family comes first. I'll give up my spot at Oxford. I'll give up my dream.
That's what happened before.
But not this time.
I stand up and walk to my closet. Everything is exactly as I left it. My clothes from ten years ago. The dress I wore to graduation last week. The acceptance letter from Oxford pinned to my bulletin board.
Oxford. I got into Oxford. I earned that spot with my grades, my essays, my interviews. And I gave it up for Vanessa, who barely graduated high school and only got into a local university because Dad made a donation.
I yank the acceptance letter off the board and read it again. The words are the same as I remember. Congratulations. We are pleased to offer you admission. Please confirm your enrollment by June 30th.
I have two weeks to confirm.
In the original timeline, I never confirmed. I sent a polite email declining the offer, and that was the end of it.
Not this time.
I grab my laptop from my desk and open it. My hands are steadier now. My mind is clearing, focusing. I know exactly what I need to do.
I pull up my email and start typing.
To whom it may concern,
I am writing to confirm my enrollment at Oxford University for the upcoming autumn term. I will be attending. Please proceed with all necessary arrangements.
Best regards,
Elena Hartwell
I hit send before I can second-guess myself.
Done. It's done.
My heart is pounding, but it feels good. It feels right.
What else? What else do I need to fix?
The money. Dad has been draining my trust fund for three years now, ever since I turned fifteen and he got control of it as my guardian. My mother left me everything when she died—twenty million dollars, properties, jewelry, shares in companies. It was supposed to be mine when I turned twenty-one.
By the time I turned twenty-one the first time, most of it was gone. Dad transferred money to his accounts, claiming it was for my education and care. He gave my mother's jewelry to Vanessa. He sold properties and pocketed the cash.
I never fought him on it. I trusted him. I was stupid.
But I know someone who tried to help me. Someone who sent me letters for years, trying to warn me.
James Reeves. My mother's lawyer.
I pull up my contacts and find his number. It's late—almost midnight—but I don't care. I send him a text.
Mr. Reeves, this is Elena Hartwell. I need to discuss my mother's trust fund. Tomorrow, 9 AM. I'll come to your office. This is urgent.
I stare at the message for a moment, then add:
I'm ready to fight for what's mine.
Send.
I set the phone down and take a deep breath. My hands are shaking again, but not from fear this time.
From anger.
I gave them everything. I let them take everything. And they still killed me.
Vanessa wanted Adrian. She pursued him for years in the original timeline, showing up at his office, at his events, trying to get his attention. It never worked. Adrian was loyal. He married me, even if he didn't love me at first.
But Vanessa never stopped wanting him. And when Adrian finally fell for me, when he finally proposed properly, she couldn't stand it.
So she killed me.
Well, guess what? This time I'm taking Adrian first. Not because I love him—I barely know him right now. But because I remember what he becomes. I remember his company growing from a small tech startup to a fifty-billion-dollar empire. I remember the way people respect him, fear him.
And I remember that he's loyal. Once you're his, he protects what's his.
I need that protection. I need that power.
And Vanessa? Vanessa can watch me take everything she ever wanted.
My phone buzzes. I grab it.
It's a text from Claire, my stepmother.
Elena, sweetie, your father wants to talk to you tomorrow morning. 10 AM in his office. It's important. Family meeting.
Right on schedule.
I type back:
Tell him I'll be out. I have an appointment with my lawyer.
I don't wait for her response. I turn off my phone and plug it in to charge.
Tomorrow morning, I'm going to James Reeves' office. Tomorrow morning, I'm going to get my inheritance back. And tomorrow, I'm going to set everything in motion.
I climb back into bed and pull the covers up. My heart is still racing.
Ten years. I have ten years of knowledge that no one else has. I know which companies will succeed. I know which investments will pay off. I know who to trust and who to avoid.
And most importantly, I know exactly who my enemies are.
I close my eyes and let myself smile.
This time, I'm taking everything.