Chapter 2

At that moment, only one thought flashed through my mind. I couldn't die here.

The car was jammed in the same tree, same spot, same branch—just like back then.

I crawled out and stared at him, hanging from the tree again, just like before.

He reached out to me, begging me to save him, "Savannah, help me."

"Savannah, help me," he cried.

I stared at him, my eyes cold and unmoving.

I was suddenly thrown back twenty years—to this very tree—where I'd clung to his hand with everything I had, gripping so hard I ruined my own.

I remembered all the years after, how he used that hand I saved to hold one woman after another.

I remembered the crash, how he steered them right over the cliff, grinning like it was all a game.

I fixed him with a cold, unblinking gaze.

He kept shouting, "Savannah, please."

I let out a small, bitter smile.

Then I turned and climbed back up to the top of the cliff.

Behind me came his agonized screams, then the sound of him falling, and finally—deathly silence.

I didn't look back.

Later, the cops tracked me down. They said my fingerprints were on his car. Someone saw us get into the car together, and I had every reason to want him dead.

I told them he was the one who tried to murder me.

They had no proof, and neither did I.

In the end, I got seven years.

Three years later, I died in prison—killed in a so-called "accident" during a fight.

Right before everything went dark, one thing burned in my mind. If I ever got another chance, I'd let him fall without a second thought.

My phone was still ringing.

I stared at Giovanni's name on the screen, my fingers trembling.

Then I picked up.

"Savannah, where are you?" Giovanni sounded urgent. "Come on, I'm out with the crew for dinner. We're all waiting for you."

I checked the time.

It was March 16, 2024, 7:37 PM, exactly the same as last time.

I was silent for a couple of seconds.

"I'm listening. Where are you?" I asked.

"Same place as always. Hurry up." Giovanni said.

He hung up.

I sat on the edge of the bed, staring out the window into the night.

It was early spring in Solenne City, and it got dark early. Outside, the city lights were scattered like stars across the night.

I stood up, walked into the bathroom, and looked at myself in the mirror.

I was twenty-five. My skin was still smooth and youthful, my eyes still sparkled. There was no scar that would come later, no gaunt look from depression, and no ugly wound on my right hand.

I was still whole, and I hadn't sacrificed my hand for him yet.

I hadn't been betrayed by him yet, and I hadn't killed anyone yet.

I hadn't been thrown in prison yet.

There was still time to change everything.

I smiled at my reflection in the mirror.

"Savannah," I said softly, "welcome back."

At eight o'clock, I arrived at the restaurant.

When I pushed open the door to the private room, the place was already rowdy with laughter and drinks. Seven or eight people were gathered around a round table, the table littered with empty bottles.

Giovanni was sitting at the head of the table, his face flushed from drinking. The moment he saw me, he waved me over.

"Savannah, over here, hurry up," he called out.

I walked over and sat down next to him.

He slung his arm around my shoulders and said to everyone at the table, "Check it out. This is my girlfriend, Savannah. Pretty, right?"

The table burst into laughter and cheers. I smiled, nodded, and let my gaze drift over everyone there.

Some faces were familiar, and some were total strangers. But one face hit me like a punch—Freya.

She sat across from me, wearing a white dress, her hair loose around her shoulders, smiling softly. When our eyes met, she lifted her glass and said, "Hey, Savannah, cheers."

I stared right back at her.

In my previous life, twenty-five years down the line, she was the woman Giovanni cheated on me with—the one who schemed with him through my divorce, the one who kept texting him, "Are you sure about this?" right before he tried to kill me.

But right now, she was just a new intern, barely twenty-one years old.

I smiled, raised my glass, and asked, "Who are you?"

"I'm Freya, the new intern," she replied.

"Oh," I said, "hello."

I barely touched my drink, just taking a tiny sip instead of finishing it.

Freya blinked, but quickly played it off and finished her own glass.

Giovanni muttered beside me, "She toasted you. Why didn't you finish it?"

I said, "I can't handle that much."

He just let it go.

The dinner dragged on. They were drinking, joking around, bragging, and playing games. I just sat quietly, keeping to myself, watching them with cold detachment.

Four hours from now, Giovanni would offer to drive Freya home. And on that winding mountain road, he'd lose control of the car—just like before.

In my previous life, I was stuck in the back seat, powerless as I watched the car fly right off the edge.

This time, there was no way I was getting in that car.

By 9:30, the dinner was wrapping up. Freya got up and said, "It's getting late. I'm heading out."

Giovanni immediately said, "Let me give you a ride."

My heart skipped a beat.

In my previous life, Giovanni never volunteered to drive Freya home. Freya had to mention she couldn't catch a cab before he finally gave in.

But this time, he made the first move.