Chapter 1

After I burned to death in a fire in the study room.

When I opened my eyes again, I was ten years in the future.

I dug my phone out of my backpack and carefully called Alexander Bennett.

"Can you come pick me up?"

He didn't answer.

All I could hear on the other end was slow, heavy breathing.

A little fear crept into my chest.

"If you can't, could you at least lend me some money?"

"Alexander?"

Alexander, who had been trying to kill himself, stumbled out of the bloodied bathtub.

Through clenched teeth, he said, "I don't care who you are. Wait for me."

Cold raindrops began to fall. I held my backpack over my head and waited for Alexander nervously.

He'd always been gifted, polished, and cold, the perfect heir the Bennett family had carefully raised.

But Alexander had never once looked kindly at me. In his eyes, I was a freeloader—stupid, nasty, and always up to no good.

I framed the scholarship girl he liked and even barged into his room in a flimsy nightgown while he was showering.

Back then, eighteen-year-old Alexander stood there in a towel, his face dark as hell.

"Emily Bennett, you're disgusting."

"Get out."

Those were the last two things he said to me in my previous life.

So when the study room caught fire and I was choking on smoke, almost suffocating, I used my last bit of strength to call him and apologize.

He didn't pick up.

After getting a second shot at life, I wanted to live under a different identity and never planned to contact him.

It's just...

I didn't have a single dollar in my backpack. My ID had already been canceled too.

The one person most capable of helping me, and the one who most wanted me to stay away from the Bennett family, was definitely Alexander.

As long as he'd lend me some money and help me sort out my papers...

This time, I'd turn over a new leaf and live right. And I'd stay far, far away from him.

I hadn't waited long before a Mercedes came tearing through the night. The window rolled down, revealing a handsome, mature face.

At twenty-eight, Alexander was dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit, steadier and more restrained than he had been at eighteen.

But his expression was just as distant as ever.

When his indifferent gaze swept over me, I lowered the backpack that had been hiding my face.

He froze.

Even when I ran over and greeted him through the car window, saying, "Alexander,"

he still didn't seem to snap out of it.

Ten years. To Alexander, I'd been dead for ten years.

In those ten years, countless women had dressed up like me and tried to climb into his bed.

Every last one of them got humiliated by him.

And now, I was standing right in front of him, just as young as the photo on my gravestone.

My eyes were clear, and when I looked at him, there was that same familiar timidness.

The white pleated dress and teddy bear backpack were exactly what I'd been wearing when he identified my body at the morgue.

Even the phone in my hand still had the crack he'd smashed into it.

"Get in."

His voice shook a little.

"Alexander, can you lend me some money?"

"My ID was canceled too. Can you help me fix that?"

Alexander was distracted. The car sped along, and streetlights flashed across his cold, sharp profile.