Chapter 1

In my previous life, I took three deadly blows for Karson Graham. I spent three years barely hanging on in a hospital bed, teetering between life and death, almost losing everything right there.

I poured out half my life's energy, only to wake up in a ruined body. When I finally came to, full of hope, I was hit with the most gut-wrenching truth.

Camille Jordan, the cousin I cherished, had already stolen my place, moving in and making herself the queen of my world.

She strutted around in the designer dresses made for me, lived in the mansion under my name, and brazenly lay beside the man I nearly died for, enjoying every bit of what should have been mine.

Everything I gave, heart and soul, ended up as nothing more than her stepping stones to the top.

My parents pointed right at me, calling me petty and ungrateful. My brother shot me a cold look, saying I was being reckless and never cared about anyone else.

Even Karson, the man I nearly died for, looked at me with that frosty attitude, not giving me a single ounce of sympathy. "I've never forgotten what you did for me, but she's the one who truly belongs by my side."

*****

I time-traveled and landed right back on the day Karson Graham was attacked.

The air was thick and muggy, the dim lights in the underground parking lot flickering on and off. I stood next to that black Maybach, my nails digging so hard into my palms that the pain kept me awake and clear-headed.

The memories from my previous life were like a scorching iron, burning through my insides, making me shiver.

When I closed my eyes, I could still feel the burning poison sliding down my throat. I remembered the people I loved most standing by my hospital bed, their eyes cold as ice, calling me ungrateful right to my face.

And there was Camille Jordan, my dear cousin, right in the middle of them, tears streaming down her face. She said, "Yvette, don't be mad at me. I'm holding onto everything that should be yours."

Everything I was supposed to have? How ironic.

What I really got was three years in a hospital bed, seventeen scars carved into my body, and that one cold line. "I remember what you did for me."

They remembered. Then they moved on and forgot me.

"Yvette, what are you spacing out for?" Karson's deep voice echoed from nearby, and I looked up.

I loved Karson for ten years in my previous life. He was the youngest head of Liverside's business empire.

I took bullets and blades for him, spent three years barely alive in a hospital bed, and when I finally woke up, he told me Camille was the one who truly belonged by his side.

Right now, he was standing at the corner of Zone C in the parking lot, his tall, lean frame wrapped in a dark gray suit. His face was cold, his brows slightly furrowed, and he shot me an annoyed look.

He was waiting for me to come running, like always, open his door, straighten his cufflinks, do all those trivial and humble things for him.

I didn't move.

His frown deepened.

"Yvette? Didn't you hear me calling you?" Karson's impatience cut through me like a blade.

I looked at him, and suddenly, I couldn't help but find it funny.

To Karson, even saying my name felt like he was doing me a favor.

"Coming," I replied, taking my time as I walked over to him.

My footsteps echoed in the empty parking lot. Every step felt like I was retracing the bloody path I'd walked in my previous life.

Karson turned and got into the car, not sparing me a glance.

He never really looked at me. To him, I was a loyal lapdog, at his beck and call, dismissed whenever he felt like it.

Hell, he didn't need to wave me over. One look from him, and I'd come running happily.

How could I have been such an idiot in my previous life?

I opened the passenger door and got in.

The car was filled with the scent of his signature fir cologne, crisp, expensive, and cold enough to keep anyone at arm's length.

I leaned back in the seat, my fingers slowly tightening around the seatbelt.

There were three minutes left.

In my previous life, at this exact time, in this very parking lot, Karson would be ambushed, a hit that had been set up in advance.

Three masked men would burst out of the fire exit in Zone C, knives in hand, going straight for the kill.

At that moment, without a second thought, I jumped in front of him and took all three stabs meant for him.

One knife pierced my left shoulder, another slashed across my back, and the deepest one plunged into my gut, nearly ending my life right there.

I was stuck in the ICU for two months, then trapped in a regular hospital room for three long years.

Those three years were the best days of my youth and the brightest moments of my life, all burned away in that sterile hospital room.

But when I finally healed and dragged my scarred body out of the hospital, I realized that the world had already moved on without me.

Camille was wearing my clothes, my jewelry, living in the apartment I'd turned into a home, and snuggled up in Karson's arms.

She mimicked my smile, my voice, the way I brewed coffee for Karson. She faked the tiny mole at the end of my left eyebrow with makeup, copying every detail to perfection.

She turned herself into my carbon copy. And then, she replaced me.

I stormed into Karson's office, demanding to know why he'd treat me like this.

He was sitting in that black leather chair, not bothering to look up.

His voice was as cold and detached as if he were commenting on the weather. "I remember what you did for me, but she's the one who fits better by my side."

Fit? He used the word. Not like, not love, but fit?

It was like I was an old, out-of-shape piece of clothing he tossed aside, like yesterday's trash.

I ran home to my parents, crying my eyes out. My mom, her eyes red, said, "Camille's had it rough. She's been keeping the house together for three years, taking care of Karson, and looking after us.

"While you were gone, she was the one doing your job as a daughter. Don't be so ungrateful."

She also called me ungrateful.

My brother, Henry York, pulled me aside and whispered, "Yvette, calm down, okay? Camille's been worried sick about you.

"If she hadn't been running around finding doctors and hospitals for you these past three years, you'd be dead by now. Seriously, have a little conscience."

If I were not the one with a conscience, then nobody was.

Somehow, they twisted every stab I took, every drop of blood I lost, and every bit of pain I went through into Camille's achievement.

I went to find Camille and asked her why she did all this.

She bowed in front of me, her mascara a mess, tears streaking her face as she grabbed onto my skirt. "Yvette, I'm so sorry. I love him so much.

"I can't control myself. Slap me, scream at me, whatever you want, but please, don't make me leave. I really can't live without him."

But when I reached out to help her up, she leaned in and whispered something in my ear.

Her voice was soft but cold as a knife. "Yvette, what do you have to compete with me? You threw your life away for him, but did he ever look at you?

"If you know what's good for you, walk away on your own. Don't make me kick you out."

I froze.

She got up, wiped away her tears, and instantly switched to a whole new act.

Turning to Karson, who had rushed in, she played the victim, sobbing. "Karson, please don't blame Yvette. It's all my fault. I shouldn't have stayed here. I'll leave right now."

Karson shot me a look like I was some crazy bitch causing trouble.

I have no wish to dwell on what happened afterward.

I tried arguing, pleading, crying, and begging. In the end, all I got was the same coldness and disgust from everyone.

They locked me up in a psych ward, claiming I was completely out of my mind and a threat to others.

When Camille came to visit me, she brought a bottle of wine.

She smiled and said, "Yvette, this is your favorite wine. I made it myself. Try some."

It wasn't until I drank it that I realized what she'd really put in there.

The way that poisoned wine burned down my throat. I would never forget it.

But I was time-traveling, back to the day everything began.

*****

Outside the car window, the parking lot lights flickered on and off.

I glanced down at my hands. My fingers were long and slender. My skin was flawless. There was no single scar, no bulging veins marred by endless IV drips. These were hands untouched by pain, a fresh start, the new me.

"Yvette, you're acting kind of off today," Karson said, his voice carrying a hint of suspicion.

I turned to face him, and for a moment, his features felt so strange.

I loved him for ten years. I took knives and bullets for him, yet in the end, he did not even care if I lived or died.

"Am I?" I curled my lips into a slight smile. "Guess I didn't get much sleep last night."

Karson stared at me for two seconds, like he was trying to figure out if I was telling the truth.

But he quickly looked away, dropped his gaze to his phone, and said in that flat voice, "Stay close during the signing ceremony later. Don't let anything go wrong."

It was so funny. In my previous life, I followed him so closely, and that was why I ended up losing everything, even my life.

I stayed silent, my gaze shifting to the car window.

The fire exit door in Zone C wobbled ever so slightly.

They were here. My heart raced, not out of fear, but from an almost cruel anticipation.

In my previous life, I threw myself in front of him, taking every stab, lying there in a pool of blood.

Karson didn't give me a single look. His first move was calling for his bodyguards, his driver, and the police.

I was the last one they bothered to load into the ambulance.

Because Karson claimed his injuries were worse than mine.

All three blades hit me, and he came out without a scratch. Yet somehow, he believed he was the one suffering more.

It was laughable.

"Mr. Graham," I suddenly spoke up.

"Huh?" He didn't lift his head.

"Ever wonder what you'd do if someone tried to kill you?" I asked.

Karson's fingers paused, and he looked up at me, his gaze sharp as a blade. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," I replied with a casual smile. "I'm asking."

He stared at me for several seconds, his mouth turning down like he wanted to say something but thought better of it.

In the end, he let out a cold snort. "You're acting weird today. Go home and get some rest. Don't bother coming to the signing ceremony."

In my previous life, if I'd heard that, I would've been on the verge of tears, scrambling to explain I was fine, begging him not to replace me.

But now, I nodded calmly. "Sure."

Karson was taken aback. He clearly hadn't expected me to agree so easily.

In his mind, I would never leave his side.

He was right. But that was the old me.

The fire exit door rattled again, this time harder than before.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted the hem of a black coat sticking out from the crack.

It was still those three people, like in my previous life.

Karson was buried in his phone, totally blind to the danger creeping up on him.

He'd always been this way, thinking the whole world should revolve around him, convinced everyone owed him, and believing disaster could never touch him.

Little did he know that in thirty seconds, everything was about to blow up.

I slowly unbuckled my seatbelt and leaned back into the seat, pulling myself in a bit, not to hide but to see everything more clearly.

There were twenty seconds left.

Joseph, Karson's driver, glanced at me in the rearview mirror, looking like he had something to say, but kept it to himself.

Joseph was an honest guy. In my previous life, he was pretty good to me, but when it really mattered, he stayed silent.

In this world, honest people had one thing in common. They would never speak up for others when it counted.

Ten seconds were left. I heard the fire exit door being shoved open.

Karson finally looked up, frowning in the direction of the noise.

Just then, the fire exit door was kicked open, and three masked men burst out, brandishing gleaming knives.

Karson's pupils shrank in fear, and he instinctively tried to retreat, but the tight space of the car left him nowhere to run.

"Yvette, help," he shouted, as he did in my previous life.

Deep down, he always saw me as the one who'd throw myself in front of the knife for him.

When he called my name, it wasn't to tell me to get out of the way. It was to order me to take the hit.

I sat in the passenger seat, not moving a muscle.

Karson's eyes went wide as he stared at me in utter disbelief.

He was stunned. He never imagined Yvette would sit there and let him face the danger alone. But I did. I didn't move an inch.

The first masked guy rushed up to the car door and slammed his knife against the window.

Glass went everywhere.

Karson jerked to the side, but the shards cut open his face, and blood dripped down his jaw.

"Yvette," he yelled my name again, this time with pure panic and rage in his voice.

I sat there, unmoved.

The second masked man moved around to the driver's side. Joseph was cowering in his seat, clutching his head, frozen in fear.

The third masked man swung the car door open, the tip of his knife pointed right at Karson's chest.

Karson's expression shifted. His anger melted into fear, and then that fear twisted into pure hopelessness.

It finally hit him that this time, no one was going to take the blow for him.

As the knife was about to hit his chest, someone screamed from the parking lot entrance, "No."

Everyone froze for a moment.

I turned my head, a slow smile creeping across my lips.

Camille was here.

She was dressed in a white dress, her hair falling loosely over her shoulders, makeup flawless, stumbling toward us in her high heels, eyes red and tears streaming down her face.

"Don't hurt him. Please," she cried, every step echoing through memories I couldn't shake.

I had seen this play out in my previous life.

Back then, she rushed over like this. Before anyone could react, she made it look like she was risking everything for Karson.

But that was only after I'd already taken all the hits for him, after I was lying in a pool of blood, and after I'd carried all the danger on my own.

All she had to do was rush over, cry a little, and throw herself at him, and like that, in everyone's eyes, she was the hero.

This time, I didn't step in to take the blow. Now, she had to face the real blade.

I watched Camille dash toward the car, tears streaming and determination written all over her face. Suddenly, the whole scene struck me as absurdly ironic.

She'd learned to mimic me so well. Even her so-called heroics in moments like this were spot-on.

But she forgot one thing. I was truly fearless when it came to death. But she was terrified to the core.

The third masked man turned, his blade pointed right at Camille as she rushed over.

Camille's steps suddenly faltered, and a clear panic flashed across her face.

For a moment, her heroic mask cracked, exposing the raw fear underneath. But there was no turning back for her now.

Karson was watching her, Joseph was watching her, and the parking lot cameras were recording everything.

She had to go through with it. Camille squeezed her eyes shut and lunged forward, waving her arms helplessly like a frightened rabbit.

The blade slashed across her arm, blood spattering.

She let out a scream and went limp in Karson's arms.

"No, Camille." Karson grabbed her, his voice raw with panic and worry.

I watched quietly, my fingers tapping softly against the car door.

As Camille collapsed, her eyes barely opened a crack.

She looked at me. Her eyes held triumph, provocation, and arrogance, as if she had already won.

I looked right back at her, a slow, mocking smile curling on my lips.

Did the stab Camille threw herself in front of the block save herself? No, she did it for me.

Because if I didn't take the hit, she had to.

Otherwise, how was she going to be the one who fit best by Karson's side?

I tore my gaze away, pushed open the car door, and walked out, steady as ever.

Behind me, Karson was clutching Camille, his voice tight with panic. "Call 911. Hurry."

Camille leaned into his arms, her face very pale, lips trembling, looking delicate. "Karson, are you alright? I was so afraid you'd be hurt."

It was so touching and heartwarming.

I stood a few steps away, watching this whole show play out. Suddenly, memories from my previous life hit me. When I was bleeding out on the floor, Camille had rushed right into Karson's arms, like now.

She'd said, "Karson, Yvette was so brave."

Back then, everyone saw her as the sweet, gentle, considerate one.

And I was the ungrateful, crazy girl.

The ambulance arrived. The police showed up too.

Two of the masked men managed to escape amid the chaos, while the last one was pinned to the ground by security guards who rushed in.

Karson insisted on taking Camille to the hospital himself. He didn't look my way.

No, actually, he did look at me. Right before getting into the ambulance, he turned around and glanced at me.

His gaze held so many complicated emotions, like disappointment, anger, confusion, and something I couldn't quite put my finger on.

"Yvette, you've changed," he said, then turned and climbed into the ambulance.

As the ambulance doors closed, Camille lifted her head from Karson's arms and flashed me a triumphant grin.

I stayed rooted to the spot, my eyes following the ambulance as it drove away.

The wind swept through, carrying the parking lot's signature damp and musty scent.

I drew in a deep breath, feeling every bit of my lungs greedily soaking up the air of this time-traveling life.

Karson was right. I had changed. I was not that idiot anymore, the one who would've risked everything for him.

This time, I was going to make sure every last one of them knew what true despair really felt like.

My phone buzzed. I glanced down. It was a message from Camille.

Camille: [Yvette, thanks for not taking the stab for him today. Since you didn't jump in, it was my turn. Guess what? Do you think he'll fall for me harder after this?]

Attached was a photo of her lying in the ambulance, Karson holding her hand, his gaze soft and gentle.

I stared at the photo for three seconds before sending a message. [Those three stabs were my debt to him in my previous life. This time, it's your turn to pay him back.]

After sending the message, I blocked Camille.

Then I dialed a number. "Hello, is this Wealth & Success Magazine? I've got an exclusive story about Karson, CEO of Graham Group. Interested?"

The person on the other end immediately perked up. "What kind of news?"

I looked at the Maybach in the parking lot, its windows shattered, and began, my tone deliberate. "Karson was attacked right before the signing ceremony, but his personal bodyguard and assistant, Yvette, stood by the whole time and took no action to protect him.

"As a result, his girlfriend, Camille, who has never had any security training, had to shield him with her bare hands and ended up seriously injured.

"Do you think this story is explosive enough?"

There was a brief silence on the other end, then an excited voice came through. "Absolutely, this is huge. Ms. York, can we set up a meeting to talk in person?"

"Tomorrow at ten in the morning. I'll send you the location." I hung up and slipped my phone into my pocket.

In my previous life, they all let the gossip and rumors drive me completely insane.

This time, it was their turn to get ripped apart by the media and feel what real payback tasted like.

I stepped out of the parking lot, squinting as the sunlight stabbed at my eyes.

My phone buzzed again.

This time, the message was from Karson.

Karson: [Yvette, you really disappointed me today.]

Karson's so-called disappointment was nothing compared to the despair he made me feel.

I took a screenshot of his message and saved it in a brand new folder. The folder's name was Revenge.