Chapter 1
I had trouble walking, so when I won a million dollars in the state lottery, I asked my son, Timmy Gray, to claim the prize for me.
But the second he had the winning ticket, he vanished.
For an entire month, the only contact I had with him was a daily text message, simply asking how my health was.
Staring at the empty balance on my screen, I couldn't figure it out. Did he not even care about the money?
It wasn't until a group of violent debt collectors kicked my door in at midnight that I found out the horrifying truth. Timmy had used my identity to take out a million-dollar loan from an underground syndicate.
The enforcers shoved me against the wall, threatening to beat me to death if I didn't pay up.
Out of options, I called Timmy, begging him to save me.
But his voice over the phone was utterly careless. "Oh, the lottery thing? Yeah, that was a scam. I just needed you to sign the paperwork so that I could get the loan."
"Don't worry about paying it back," he scoffed. "You've got terminal cancer anyway. Once you croak, the debt gets wiped clean."
In the months that followed, my cancer progressed rapidly. As the agonizing pain tore through my body, I begged him over and over again to come back.
He refused. He wouldn't pay for my treatments, and he wouldn't even spare a few dollars for a single shot of morphine. He just let me lie there in a filthy room, screaming in agony until my heart finally stopped.
When I died, the debt collectors hauled my corpse to his doorstep, trying to force him to pay his debts.
He just chuckled, "She's dead. Why would I care? Do whatever you want with her."
The despair I felt in those final moments was absolute.
But then, my eyes snapped open. I had been reborn on the exact day they told me I hit the jackpot.
*****
The moment my eyes locked onto that lottery ticket, a sickening realization washed over me. I was reborn.
I found no pleasure in the moment; in fact, I felt a profound sense of loathing.
Because I knew that ticket was a complete fake. It was nothing but bait to trick me into signing my name on a predatory loan contract.
"Mom, with your bad legs, you'd have to take a train all the way to claim the prize," Timmy said smoothly. "Why not just sign here and let me take care of the logistics for you?"
His voice jolted me back to the present.
I stared at his fawning smile. Slowly, it morphed and overlapped with the sinister sneer I remembered from my previous life.
A wave of absolute dread swept over me. My hands began to tremble uncontrollably.
I started to push my chair back to stand up, but Timmy slammed his hand down over my wrist.
"Mom, just sign it," he urged, his grip tightening. "Once the money clears, we'll buy a massive house. You'll live out the rest of your days in absolute luxury."
His wife, Chloe Gray, immediately jumped in to assist. She grabbed my other hand, trying to force my thumb onto an ink pad. "Exactly. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. You really shouldn't let it slip by."
Yeah, what a wonderful opportunity.
In my last life, I believed their lies. And it left me utterly destroyed.
The money did come in.
Timmy and Chloe bought a sprawling mansion, leased two luxury cars, and abandoned me in my crumbling apartment.
I didn't know the truth until those vicious-looking men came knocking at midnight. My own son had used my identity to borrow from loan sharks.
Panic surged through me as those thugs pressured me for payment. With trembling hands, I dialed Timmy, only for him to act like he couldn't care less.
"It's not my debt," he said. "So why should I pay it? Look at the signature. It's your name, Mom. Tell them to take it up with you.
"Besides, you guys are wasting your time anyway. Dead people don't pay debts."
I froze. What was he talking about?
"You've got late-stage cancer, Mom," he said coldly. "You won't last much longer anyway."
Before I could even process the words, the line went dead. He hung up, leaving me completely alone in a room full of violent criminals.
For weeks, the thugs harassed me. They beat me.
Desperate, I begged Timmy to let me move into his new mansion to hide. "No way," he replied. "Oh, by the way, I sold your apartment. You're being evicted today."
I was floored. Was he even human?
"How could you do that?" I screamed into the phone. "Where am I supposed to go?"
"Relax, you aren't going to be homeless," he said.
He texted me an address, claiming he had set up a peaceful retirement suite for me.
When I arrived, I found myself standing in a cramped, windowless storage closet attached to a public restroom.
The stench of urine and rot was suffocating. If I took a step, cockroaches scattered. If I looked in the corners, rats stared back.
But the ultimate betrayal was during my final days. As the cancer took hold, I begged for help, but he refused to pay for even a shot of morphine.
"You're on your deathbed," he said. "What's the point of wasting money on someone who won't be here tomorrow?"
He let me writhe in agony until the cancer finally killed me.
Now that I had been given a second chance, I could see these heartless bastards for who they truly were. As they hovered over me, waiting for my signature, I simply slid the contract away.
"No thanks," I said. "I'm not signing."