Chapter 1

In my previous life, I got kidnapped and was held captive for seven years before I finally escaped.

But when I got out, I found out my husband had married someone else. My son had a new mother.

I tried everything to fit back into their lives. I begged for their love. In the end, my son called me the "witch" who was ruining their happy little family.

I was so broken that I jumped off a building.

When I woke up again, I was back at the police station. A policewoman was asking if I wanted her to call my family.

I didn't even think twice. I said no.

Given a second chance, I'd only live for myself.

*****

"Emily Bright, do you remember your family's names? We can call someone to come get you." The policewoman's voice was soft.

She was scared that being too loud would break me. She'd probably met a lot of kidnapped women like me.

I thought for a second. Then I answered without hesitating, "I don't remember."

The policewoman gave me this look. Pity, mostly.

I knew that look. She felt sorry for me, a woman who'd been kidnapped for seven years, who'd run away all alone, and who couldn't even remember her family's names.

But she didn't know. I remembered everything.

I remembered Michael Dawn. This year, he'd be thirty-six. He ran a small company. We started it together. He and I came up with the name of the company together—Breaking Dawn.

I remembered everything about him. I remembered that we had a son. I was gone right after my son learned to say "Mama."

I remembered that afternoon seven years ago.

I went out to buy groceries and saw a pregnant woman fall down. She said her stomach hurt so bad she couldn't stand up.

I thought about when I was pregnant and fell in the street. Nobody stopped to help me.

So I helped her. I said I'd take her home.

She went home. I never did.

When I opened my eyes again, I was in a cramped room with rows of machines I didn't recognize. The door was steel, locked from the outside. The windows were painted over and bolted shut.

A bunch of people stood outside. Their shadows looked like demons staring at me.

Later, I found out they bought me for eight thousand dollars.

I remembered everything, including what happened when Michael came to get me in my previous life.

He showed up looking like he'd run the whole way, hair a mess and missing one shoe.

When he saw me, he had that same look in his eyes—the same one the policewoman had.

He stood there for a long time. He put his coat over my shoulders and said, "Let's go home."

I cried at those three words. I thought everything could start over.

I thought the seven years of hell were finally over.

I didn't know that was just the beginning.

*****

The policewoman finished her paperwork and saw me staring into space. "Do you have anyone else you want us to call? Parents? Siblings?"

I froze for a second.

Then I shook my head. "No."

My parents died in a car crash when I was nineteen.

At least they went before they knew I was kidnapped. They would've been destroyed.

The policewoman's pen stopped moving. "Then what are you going to do? We can help you find a shelter, or—"

"No. I'll be fine."

She looked at me for a moment, then pushed the paperwork aside. She pulled out an envelope from her drawer.

"This is emergency money. Five hundred dollars. Sign here. And here's a temporary ID. Use it until you get your real one replaced," she said.

I signed and took the envelope and the paper with the official stamp.

The policewoman hesitated. Then she said, "Emily, a woman out there alone... it's not easy. If you ever need help, come find us. That's what we're here for."

I took the thousand dollars and left the station.

I bought a jumbo burger from a fast-food restaurant.

Then I ate while I walked and thought about what to do next.

In my previous life, Michael took me home. I wasted two years in that house. Then I jumped from the seventeenth floor.

In this life, they didn't know I was back.

They were still a happy family of three.

And I was still me.

After I finished that burger, I decided my previous life was over. I needed my own life now.

I spent two days taking care of things. I got my ID replaced and used almost all my money to rent a tiny room. There was nothing in it but a bed. But the lock was solid.

In my previous life, when I escaped from that workshop, all I wanted was to go home.

I thought if I could just get home, everything would go back to normal.

But time waited for no one.

I got stuck in one place for seven years? Nobody was going to pause their life for me.

They moved on. They got married, had kids, and lived their lives.

And I became yesterday's news.

Not this time.

I wanted to live for myself, even if it hurt, and even if I had nothing.

The next morning, I woke up early and went to the temp agency.

Everywhere I went, they took one look at me—thirty-five, no work history, no diploma—and said no.

Then I met Briana Carter. She ran a clothing factory. She needed seamstresses.

The pay wasn't great. But it was enough to feed myself.

When she asked if I had experience, I nodded.

Briana gave me a suspicious look. "You can't lie about this stuff."

I gave her a small smile. "I'm not lying."

It was true. During the years I was held captive, I was at sewing machines from morning until night.

I worked day and night making clothes for those people to sell. That was how I avoided getting hit and going hungry.

Funny how the nightmare I ran from ended up teaching me my only skill.

I passed the three-day trial and got the job.

The pay was piecework. It was lower than I expected.

My first month, I made seven hundred dollars. After food and a little spending money, I saved three hundred.

But I was okay with it. At least I could take care of myself.

I never turned down overtime.

Overtime meant more money. Money meant safety.

Life in that workshop taught me one thing.

I couldn't rely on anyone. The only things that were really mine were the ones I earned myself.

The day I got my first paycheck, I bought myself a real bed and new blankets.

That night, I lay under those blankets and turned off the light. The room was pitch black. But outside the window, there was light.

In my previous life, after Michael took me back, I watched him and Cindy Brooks sleep in the bed that used to be mine. I dreamed about having my own place.

That way, I wouldn't have to walk on eggshells around anyone ever again.

I buried my face in the blanket. It smelled like sunshine and cotton.

I didn't cry. I'd stopped crying a long time ago.