Chapter 1

In front of tens of thousands of viewers, I picked up a brick and smashed thirty‑eight shared bicycles lined up by the road.

As the comments exploded, "She's insane", I smiled and calmly held out my hands to the police officers rushing out of the station.

"Sir," I said pleasantly, "please arrest me. I can't wait."

In my previous life, I was the perfect scapegoat for my roommate and my boyfriend.

They committed a fraud and theft case that shook the entire campus, then used my electronic signature and fingerprints to frame me as the sole perpetrator.

I studied law for four years, only to become a casualty of the law itself.

I spent ten years in prison. My parents died consumed by grief and hatred.

I thought that once I served my sentence, I would finally see daylight again. Instead, the day before my release, they arranged an "accident" inside the prison and killed me.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the very day they were preparing to close the net.

Since they could fabricate evidence placing me at the scene, then I would create an alibi the entire world could never deny.

*****

I was standing right outside the downtown police station, livestream running on my phone for a solid ten minutes.

The chat was going absolutely wild. Comments like "This streamer's gone crazy!" "Somebody call the cops!" and "She's out of her mind!" were flooding the screen nonstop.

I grabbed a brick off the curb and set my sights on the perfectly lined-up row of rental bikes.

I gave one of them bikes the first hit, and the seat crumpled in.

I swung at it, and the wheel bent out of shape.

I gave it a third strike, and it came crashing to the ground.

I kept going, bike after bike, each hit vicious and precise.

The chat was blowing up. Some people were trying to dig up my personal info, while others were saying they'd screenshot everything and call the cops.

I smiled.

This was exactly the reaction I was hoping for.

Sirens blared as I smashed the fifth bike.

I chucked the brick aside and flipped off the camera. "Remember this moment, October 23rd, 2023, 8 PM sharp. Rosemary Elliott is committing a crime right here."

Three cops came running over, and the lead one tried to snatch my phone.

I raised my hands and shouted, "Yeah, I did it! Arrest me! Let me keep going!"

The young cop frowned. "What's your deal? Did you just get dumped or something?"

"Dumped your ass," I shot back, shaking off his grip and bolting toward the squad car. "Come on, hurry up and cuff me! I can't wait to do time!"

The officers stared at one another in stunned silence. They were probably thinking they'd never seen anyone this eager to be locked up.

Inside the interrogation room, I leaned back in my chair, cocky to the point of provocation.

I openly admitted to smashing the shared bikes, flatly refused to pay compensation, and demanded they detain me immediately.

A middle-aged officer tried to reason with me. "Do you even know what detention means?"

I recited the law without hesitation, as if reading off a menu. "Intentionally damaging public or private property results in five to ten days of detention, plus a fine of up to one hundred and fifty dollars."

He stared at me, clearly caught off guard.

I continued calmly, "If it's classified as a serious offense, that's ten to fifteen days in custody, with fines up to three hundred. I destroyed five bikes. The damages exceed six hundred dollars. That qualifies as serious, doesn't it?"

He blinked. "Are you studying law?"

"Yes," I replied coolly. "So believe me, I know exactly what I'm doing."

My parents called after seeing the livestream, but I hung up without hesitation and shrugged at the officers. "They don't control me either."

With no choice, the police followed procedure and escorted me into the holding cell.

I sat against the wall and closed my eyes.

In my previous life, at this exact moment, Jovanni and Nathaly Stanton were in the school's computer lab, completing the final transfer.

They used my student ID to access the room, my fingerprints to unlock the terminal, and a prerecorded voice sample to authorize the transaction.

Every trace pointed to me.

But this time, I was sitting inside a police station's holding cell.

If the police themselves provided my alibi, who could possibly overturn it?

I couldn't help laughing when I remembered my answer in my last life, how weak and helpless it had sounded, when the judge asked, Where were you at the time of the crime?

This time, my answer was ironclad. "I was in custody."

Not long after, hurried footsteps echoed outside.

My mother rushed in, her eyes red and swollen. The moment she saw me, she wrapped me in a desperate embrace.

"Rosemary!" she cried, her entire body trembling.

My father followed close behind, his face dark with fury.

"Rosemary! Have you lost your mind? Do you have any idea what you're doing?" he roared.

The officer frowned, watching our family scene with visible irritation.

My father immediately bowed deeply, his voice shaking. "Officer, I'm so sorry. She must be under extreme stress. We'll pay for everything. Please just let us take her home."

My mother clutched my hand, sobbing uncontrollably. "Rosemary, please. Come home. Whatever's wrong, we'll deal with it together. Don't do this here."

Looking at their desperate expressions felt like someone carving my heart out piece by piece.