Chapter One: The Day I Died
They dressed me beautifully for my funeral.
That was the cruelest joke of all.
White lilies surrounded my coffin, their scent heavy and suffocating, as if even the air wanted to remind me I was dead. My body lay still beneath the glass—pale, peaceful, unrecognizable. They had erased the bruises. The needle marks. The truth.
I stood beside my own coffin, barefoot on cold marble, staring down at the face that used to be mine.
So this is how it ends, I thought.
A single tear slid down my cheek, but it didn't fall. It hovered, weightless, just like me. I raised a trembling hand and pressed it to my chest, yet felt nothing. No heartbeat. No warmth. Only a hollow ache that stretched endlessly.
People filled the hall—black dresses, dark suits, bowed heads. Soft sobs echoed, rehearsed and polite.
My father stood closest to the coffin.
He looked devastated.
His shoulders were hunched, his eyes red-rimmed, his hands clenched as if he were barely holding himself together. He stared at my body like a man who had lost everything.
I almost believed him.
Beside him stood my aunt—no, my stepmother. The woman who had once smiled sweetly while pouring poison into my life drop by drop. She dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief, her lips trembling.
"My poor child," she whispered loudly enough for everyone to hear.
Behind her, my stepsister clung to my father's arm, crying softly, her face buried against his shoulder.
And then there was him.
My fiancé.
He stood at the head of the hall, dressed in black, his expression tortured, grief etched so convincingly into his features that my chest tightened.
I loved him.
Even now.
I floated closer, desperate, aching.
You cared, I told myself. At least you cared.
The priest finished speaking. The guests murmured prayers. One by one, they approached my coffin, offering flowers, condolences, tears.
Lies.
All of them.
Hours later, the hall emptied.
The last guest left. The doors closed with a heavy thud.
Silence fell.
That was when everything changed.
My stepsister was the first to break character.
She straightened abruptly, wiping her face. "God," she scoffed, tossing her blonde hair back. "I'm exhausted. Crying is hard work."
The sound echoed like a slap.
My spirit froze.
My fathexr exhaled sharply, loosening his tie. "You did well," he said. "All of you did."
I stared at him, my mind screaming no, no, no.
My stepmother laughed—a soft, delighted sound. "Did you see their faces? They actually believed we were grieving."
Grieving?
My knees buckled, though I didn't fall.
My fiancé let out a low chuckle. "They always were fools."
The world tilted.
My stepsister walked up to my coffin and peered down at my body with a sneer. "She looks prettier dead," she said. "Finally learned how to stay quiet."
I screamed.
No sound came out.
Tears poured down my face as I beat my fists against the invisible barrier between us.
My father leaned over my coffin, his expression cold, calculating. "Your mother was a mistake," he muttered. "And you were the reminder."
My breath hitched.
"Her wealth should've been mine," he continued. "But she was clever. Leaving everything to you… a child."
My stepmother smiled. "So we corrected her mistake."
Corrected.
My stepsister clapped her hands excitedly. "And now everything will be mine!"
My father shook his head. "No. It will be ours. Once the will is… adjusted."
I felt like I was being torn apart.
My fiancé stepped forward, placing a glass of wine atop my tombstone. "To think," he said casually, "she believed I loved her."
My heart shattered.
"You never—?" I whispered, though he couldn't hear me.
He laughed. "Love? Please. I loved your inheritance. And your obedience." My one and true love is right here, he said kissing my stepsister passionately while they burst into jeering laughter…
The room spun.
My stepmother raised her glass. "To patience," she said. "It took months to weaken her."
My stepsister smirked. "The slow poison worked beautifully."
Poison.
My memories rushed back—my dizziness, my collapsing, the doctors' confusion.
I had trusted them.
I had loved them.
They clinked glasses and drank, laughing beside my grave.
That was when the doors slammed open.
Heavy footsteps echoed through the hall.
Men in black flooded in, guns raised, eyes sharp and merciless.
And then he walked in.
The air changed instantly.
Tall. Dangerous. Commanding.
The mafia CEO. Andre
The man I had rejected over and over again.
My breath caught.
My father spun around. "Who the hell are—"
"Kill them," the man said calmly.
Gunshots rang out.
Screams. Blood. Chaos.
I watched, frozen, as the people who destroyed my life fell one by one.
My stepsister collapsed first, her wine glass shattering.
My stepmother screamed until her voice was cut short.
My father reached for his gun—too slow.
My fiancé tried to run.
He didn't make it.
Silence returned.
Andre walked past the bodies like they were nothing and stopped in front of my tomb.
He dropped to his knees.
For the first time… he cried.
My heart clenched painfully.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, pressing his forehead to the stone. "I should've taken you away."
My spirit drifted closer, sobbing.
"I loved you," he said, his voice breaking. "From the first day. Even when you chose him. Even when you pushed me away."
Flashbacks slammed into me—his dark eyes watching me from across rooms, his quiet protection, the way his jaw tightened whenever my fiancé touched me, the way he looked at me when I confessed my love to my fiancé…
I had been blind.
He pulled out a small vial from his pocket.
"No," I screamed. "Don't!"
He smiled faintly. "I'll see you soon."
He drank.
And fell.
I dropped to my knees, wailing, clutching his lifeless body.
"This is my fault," I sobbed. "Give him back. Please."
I looked up, tears streaming.
"If anyone is listening," I begged. "Give me another chance."
Darkness swallowed me whole.
Then—
Light.
I gasped.
Air burned my lungs.
My eyes flew open.
I was alive.
And this time…
I would make them all pay.