Chapter 1

In my previous life, I was the center of attention, the only daughter in a wealthy family.

Just because my friend said, "We're best friends." I turned my back on my parents, left everything behind, and spent more than ten years raising her daughter.

I poured my heart out for my adopted daughter, spent every penny I had, but my so-called best friend just sneered at my adopted daughter behind my back.

She said, "She can't have kids, she's twisted inside. Raising you is just her way of atoning for her own sins."

When I was barely hanging on with late-stage stomach cancer, my adopted daughter took off with my life-saving money and hung up on me with an impatient sigh.

She said, "You're not my real mom. Stop bothering me."

Then, just like that, I woke up back on the day my adopted daughter turned eighteen.

She was still acting all sweet and innocent, just like in my last life, thinking I'd keep spoiling her.

But this time, I cut her off without a second thought. Ignoring her begging, I said coldly, "From today on, don't spend another cent of my money."

*****

In my previous life, I died on a rainy autumn day.

With late-stage stomach cancer, I was curled up on the floor of my rented apartment, in so much pain I could barely move. Before I blacked out, I called my adopted daughter.

I begged, "Bethany, please, can you come back and stay with me for one night? Just one night..."

On the other end, it was noisy, music from the mall, women laughing.

"You're not my real mom, quit acting pathetic," she snapped, her voice dripping with impatience. "I'm shopping with my mom, gotta go."

She thought she'd hung up and tossed her phone back into her bag.

I was shaking all over from the pain, so weak I couldn't even make a sound.

Half-conscious, I realized the call was still connected, and I heard her talking to Wanda Reid.

"Mom, do you think this bag looks good? I put it on her card. It cost me ten thousand dollars," Bethany said.

Wanda asked, "It's beautiful, honey. You really have an eye for these things. By the way, how's your adoptive mom doing?"

Bethany replied, "Her time is up. The doctor said it's late-stage, probably just a few days left. Once she's dead, I'll head over to her parents' place and get my hands on their fortune. She's their only kid, so all the money's mine."

I closed my eyes.

The pain in my heart was worse than anything my body felt.

On the day of my funeral, I lay in the morgue. Suddenly, my body felt weightless. I swear I could hear their voices.

"She's finally dead," Bethany said, twirling around in her new dress and waving the deed to the penthouse my parents left me. "Now nobody can tell me what to do. Mom, the house and the cash are all ours."

Wanda was touching up her makeup nearby. "See? I told you, her family's loaded. What's the big deal if she took care of you for a few years? Besides, you've been her daughter all these years. Of course, you deserve to spend her money."

On the other side, over at Amethyst Manor.

My parents, who hadn't heard from me in years, were hit with the news of my death. My mom froze, completely overwhelmed as despair crashed over her like a tidal wave. My dad couldn't handle the sudden blow. His vision blurred, and he almost passed out.

The massive living room was drenched in a thick sense of hopelessness.

I watched it all happen from the sidelines.

I wanted to cry, but the tears just wouldn't come.

I wanted to scream, but I couldn't.

I could only hate myself. Why did I ever break things off with the parents who loved me? Why did I throw away the people who cared about me most, all for that heartless mother-daughter duo?

The regret inside me felt like it was ripping me to shreds.

Mom, Dad, I was sorry.

"Ms. Walton? Ms. Walton?"

I snapped my eyes open.

Once again, the blinding sunlight made me squint, and only then did I see everything clearly.

Standing before me was a young man in a crisp white shirt and glasses, holding a stack of forms.

"Have you discussed your child's college application forms yet? The deadline is just a few days away," the teacher said.

College application.

I glanced down at my hands. They looked healthy, my nails clean and neat, nothing like the frail, skeletal hands.

I reached for my stomach. There was no pain at all.

"Ms. Walton?" the teacher asked, looking at me, puzzled.

I said, my voice shaky, "Excuse me, could you tell me what year it is? What's the date today?"

"It's June 25th, 2037. The day the SAT scores come out," the teacher replied.

June 25th? 2037?

Bethany was eighteen, the scores were out, and it was time to pick colleges.

I had returned from the dead!

Tears flooded my eyes, and I clamped a hand over my mouth, fighting to keep the overwhelming joy from bursting out in sobs.

"Are you alright, Ms. Walton?" the teacher asked.

"I'm fine," I said, wiping away the tears and taking a steady breath. "As for the college application, let Bethany handle them herself. From this moment on, anything to do with her is no longer my responsibility."

The teacher stood there, completely taken aback.

I didn't bother explaining. I put the form down and walked out of the office.

At the end of the hallway, Bethany was chatting with her friends. When she saw me come out of the office, her eyes lit up, and she ran over.

"Mom! You're out! I scored 1550 on the exam! My friends say I can get into a top university! I'm going to study law and make loads of money to take care of you!" she said.