Chapter 1

After coming back to life, I locked eyes with Sloane Zamora, the poor student everyone saw as the class belle. She was caught stealing some bread. Ignoring her pleading gaze, I recorded the scene and left her with the angry shop owner.

In my previous life, as Sloane's classmate, I rushed to her defense without knowing why she was being beaten. When I found out she had stolen, I still paid ten times the price. Then I even provided her with 1,500 dollars a month.

I was smug about helping Sloane, never imagining she'd grow to hate me for witnessing her lowest moment.

Later, not only did she spend my money and steal my boyfriend while pretending to be my bestie, but she also conspired with him to destroy my family's company.

The day I was left homeless, Sloane appeared with some bread, her voice honeyed and venomous.

She sneered, "Romina, all these years, you kept me like a dog, probably feeling so proud of yourself. But did you ever think you'd end up being treated like a dog, too?"

She threw the bread to the ground and stomped on it over and over. Then she stood with her hands on her hips, watching me devour it hungrily.

But she'd laced the bread with poison. Blood streamed from my eyes, nose, and mouth. I died right there on the spot.

Now, Sloane staggered back into the classroom, her face a mask of bruises from beating. In front of the whole class, she pointed a trembling finger at me and sobbed, "You were there. How could you just stand there and watch?"

I sighed and stood up, facing the accusing glares, "You were beaten for theft. If I had stepped in, everyone would think we were in on it together."

*****

Sloane begged, "I'm sorry, ma'am. I was just starving; I wasn't trying to steal. When your husband is around, he always helps me out. I thought it would be okay.

"Please, cut me some slack, okay? Please don't go to my school and tell my teacher. I'm begging you."

The echo of her plea still hung in the air as my eyes fluttered open. It suddenly hit me that I was back in my senior year, standing right outside the bakery outside the school.

Sloane, the poor student everyone saw as the class belle, had been caught stealing by the baker owner, Kimberly. Kimberly snatched her by the hair, yelling about dragging her to the principal's office.

The street was quiet before the evening study hall. The only sound was Sloane, still begging for mercy. She refused to move, no matter what Kimberly said.

"You shameless girl!" Kimberly cursed. "You're so deceitful at such a young age. Is that all that pretty face is for? Flirting with married men for bread? Disgusting. I'm going to have a word with your teacher about what kind of student they're raising."

Back in my previous life, seeing Kimberly towering like a tank over the delicate and helpless Sloane, I instantly cast Kimberly as the bully and Sloane as the victim.

So I stepped in for Sloane. I paid for ten loaves of bread and even promised her 1,500 dollars a month out of my own pocket to see her through to college.

That day, Sloane's face was burning red, head down, silent, fists clenched so hard that her nails dug deep into her palms.

I thought she was just overwhelmed with gratitude, too choked up to say a word.

It took me dying once to see the truth that she was driven mad with jealousy, barely holding it together.

To help her get into college and turn her life around, I even invited her to my home for private tutoring. Thanks to a tutor who charged a fortune per session, she ended up at the same university as me.

I was so naive, just wanting to rescue her from hardship and share everything I had. But the more I gave, the more resentful she became, until all that was left was her hatred for me.

It wasn't until she teamed up with my crush, used my trust to steal secrets from my family business, and destroyed everything I had that I finally saw her for what she was. I actually nurtured a viper with my own hands.

Sloane abruptly stopped crying, her eyes frantically scanning the area for help.

When her gaze met mine, it lit up as if she'd found her lifeline.

Her voice cut through the air, sharp with blame.

"Romina, are you blind? I'm getting beaten up. Don't just stand there. Come help me," she snapped.

After a brief pause, I pulled out my phone, started recording, pulled my cap low, and headed straight to school.

In my previous life, Sloane had been too meek and shy to speak to anyone like that, especially not to someone from my wealthy background.

The thought sent a chill down my spine, and I hurried away without looking back.

Her roar only set Kimberly off again. Behind me, she started beating Sloane even harder.

Kimberly shouted, "How dare you threaten me, you shameless thief? Maybe I should just ruin that face you use to flirt with men."

Even from a distance, Sloane's screams followed me like a ghost, haunting every step.

I jogged all the way back to the classroom. Only when I saw those familiar faces and sank into my seat did I finally let out a long, shaky breath.

Sloane's sudden change in behavior left me almost sure of it. She had also traveled back in time.

I slowly unclenched my fist, my knuckles pale and my palm damp with sweat. Memories of the life she'd ruined were still painfully clear.

This time, even if Sloane died right in front of me, I wouldn't bat an eye.

I wanted to see how she and Quito Brooks would make it on their own, now that I was no longer there to carry them.