Pain. That was my last memory. Searing, white-hot pain as my body tumbled down the marble staircase of the Hayes mansion, my engagement ring catching the chandelier light one final time before everything went dark. The betrayal in my heart hurt worse than my broken body—Ethan's cold eyes watching me fall, Mia's hand possessively on his arm, the documents I'd discovered clutched in my hand revealing how they'd systematically stolen everything from me.

"Ms. Reed? Are you ready to order?"


I blinked, disoriented by the voice. A waiter stood beside me, pen poised over his notepad, looking expectantly at me across a table set for lunch. Not the cold hospital room where I'd taken my last breath. Not the darkness that had enveloped me as the doctor pronounced me dead from internal bleeding.

My hands flew to my chest, my head, checking for injuries that should be there. Nothing. I was whole. Alive.

"I... I need a minute," I managed to stammer.


The waiter nodded and stepped away. I grabbed my phone from the table—my old phone, the one I'd replaced three years before I died. The date confirmed what I was beginning to suspect: March 15, 2019. Five years before my death. The exact day I first met Ethan Hayes.

My stomach lurched. I rushed to the restaurant bathroom, barely making it to a stall before emptying the contents of my stomach. Bracing myself against the cool marble, I tried to make sense of what was happening. I'd died. I was certain of it. I remembered the doctor's voice, the beeping machines going silent, the feeling of slipping away as my body gave up.


Yet here I was, back at the beginning of everything that would destroy me.

I splashed water on my face and stared at my reflection. Younger. Softer. The woman in the mirror hadn't yet built a successful event planning business. Hadn't yet fallen for Ethan's practiced charm. Hadn't yet brought Mia in as a partner, giving her access to everything. Hadn't yet been betrayed, humiliated, and murdered.

"Get it together, Olivia," I whispered to myself. "This is impossible, but it's happening."

As I returned to my table, I spotted him entering the restaurant. Ethan Hayes. Tall, impeccably dressed in a navy suit that highlighted his athletic build, his dark hair perfectly styled. In my previous life, this lunch meeting had been a chance encounter—he'd spilled coffee on my portfolio, apologized profusely, and insisted on buying me lunch. I'd been charmed by his smile, his attention, his apparent interest in my fledgling business.

Now I saw what I'd missed before: the calculated way his eyes assessed me, measuring my value to his ambitions. The practiced nature of his "accidental" encounter. The way he'd scanned the room to ensure the right people saw him being gallant.

My heart raced as he approached the coffee station near my table. This was the moment—he would turn, coffee would spill, and the next five years of my life would begin their inevitable march toward my destruction.

Not this time.

I quickly gathered my portfolio and stood, deliberately stepping away from his path. Ethan turned, coffee in hand, and found empty space where I should have been. Our eyes met briefly as I moved toward the exit. Confusion flickered across his handsome face—this wasn't how the script was supposed to go.

"Excuse me," he called after me, that smooth, confident voice that had once made my heart flutter. "Haven't we met somewhere before?"

I paused, a chill running down my spine. For a moment, I wondered if he somehow remembered too—if he knew what he would eventually do to me. But no, this was just another line, another practiced move in his repertoire.

"No," I said firmly, meeting his gaze directly. "We haven't. And we won't."

The shock on his face was worth savoring, but I didn't linger. Outside the restaurant, I gulped in fresh air, my mind racing with possibilities. I had been given something impossible—a second chance. Knowledge of a future I could now prevent.

My phone buzzed with a text from Mia: "How's the client meeting going? Dying to hear!"

Mia. My best friend since college. The woman who would sleep with my fiancé behind my back. The woman who would help embezzle nearly two million dollars from our company. The woman who stood by silently as I fell to my death.

I stared at her message, memories flooding back. The night before my death, I'd been working late at our office when I accidentally discovered financial discrepancies. Digging deeper, I'd found evidence of systematic theft over the previous year—money transferred to offshore accounts, client payments diverted, contracts altered. All requiring both Mia's and Ethan's signatures. When I confronted them at what was supposed to be my engagement party, their masks had finally dropped. Ethan's cold laugh still echoed in my mind: "You were always a means to an end, Olivia. Your connections, your talent—useful, but temporary."

And Mia, her face twisted with years of hidden resentment: "You always had everything handed to you. It was so easy taking it away."

Then the push. The fall. The darkness.

I deleted Mia's message without responding and hailed a cab to my old apartment—the small studio I'd lived in before success allowed me to upgrade. As the city passed by outside the window, I made a decision. This wasn't just a second chance at life; it was justice waiting to be served.

My hands trembled as I unlocked my apartment door. Everything was exactly as I remembered—cramped, with design samples stacked in corners and a small desk overflowing with sketches and business plans. On the wall hung my vision board, filled with magazine cutouts of high-profile events I dreamed of planning. Dreams that had come true, only to become my nightmare.

I sank onto my bed, the full weight of my situation hitting me. I was back at the beginning, with nothing but my talent and the knowledge of what would come. Ethan didn't know me yet. Mia was still just my friend, her betrayal years away. My business was in its infancy.

I pulled out my laptop and began searching for news about Ethan Hayes. As expected, he was already making a name for himself at his father's law firm, representing wealthy clients and cultivating political connections. Articles praised his "bright future" and "commitment to community service"—the perfect cover for his ruthless ambition.

Next, I looked up James Blackwood. In my previous life, he'd been a competitor who became a hotel magnate. We'd had minimal interaction—a missed opportunity, I now realized. According to current news, he was in the early stages of expanding his first successful boutique hotel into a chain.

Finally, I checked my business accounts. The modest savings I'd scraped together to launch Reed Events was barely enough to keep me afloat for three months. In my previous life, this was when I'd started panicking about finances, making me vulnerable to Ethan's offer to introduce me to his wealthy clients.

I closed my laptop and walked to the window, looking out at the city that had once been the backdrop to my rise and fall. Everything was the same, yet everything had changed. I was no longer the naive, trusting woman who had died on those marble stairs. I was a ghost with a purpose, a woman with knowledge no one else possessed.

My phone buzzed again—another text from Mia: "Hello? Earth to Olivia! Did you land the Hendersons' anniversary party?"

I stared at her name on my screen, remembering her face the night I died—not a trace of remorse as she watched me fall. The woman I'd shared dreams with, celebrated victories with, cried with over breakups and disappointments. The woman who had helped plan my engagement party while sleeping with my fiancé behind my back.

"Not yet," I texted back, forcing myself to sound normal. "Meeting rescheduled. Coming over later to strategize."

I needed to see her—to look into the eyes of the woman who would betray me and see if there were signs I'd missed. I needed to understand when and how the seeds of her resentment had been planted.

As I prepared to face Mia, I caught my reflection in the mirror again. My eyes had changed already—harder, more focused. I touched my own face, making a silent promise to the woman who had died.

"They took everything from you," I whispered to my reflection. "Your business, your love, your life, your dignity. This time, we take everything from them."

I straightened my shoulders and took a deep breath. Five years. I had five years to build myself up, to lay traps, to ensure that when the day of my death arrived in the previous timeline, I would be the one watching them fall.

This wasn't just a second chance at life. It was a resurrection with purpose.

And I intended to rise from my ashes like a fury.