Chapter 1
During the hospital chaos, I intentionally stirred up the patient's family with my words.
Enraged, he pressed a knife to my neck and forced me onto the rooftop.
Standing on the edge of life and death, I was strangely calm inside.
Because in my previous life, this was exactly when I got framed as the perfect scapegoat for a murderer.
She slaughtered my boyfriend Orson right there in the studio, no mercy at all.
The surveillance footage made it look like I was the one who did it, capturing every second of the so-called "murder".
With no alibi to clear my name, I got labeled as the killer.
Orson's parents went live to drag me through the mud, and before I knew it, I was executed.
Next thing I knew, I woke up two hours before Orson's murder.
*****
The moment I got a new life, I grabbed my phone and dialed Orson. "Orson?" I said.
"Yeah?" Orson replied.
Hearing his voice, I almost broke down in tears. I forced myself to calm down. "Listen to me. Leave the studio right now and go somewhere crowded."
Orson sounded confused. "Why?"
I didn't know how to explain my new life. And seriously, I didn't know how to tell him the truth. He'd be killed in two hours.
After thinking for a second, I said, "I just read your fortune, and it looks like you're in for some bloody bad luck today. Seriously, don't stay in the studio."
Orson chuckled and called me superstitious. Actually, he was even more into that stuff than I was.
Any other reason, he'd just ignore me. But this, he'd actually listen.
"Better to believe it than risk ignoring it, you know?" I said.
After all that persuading, Orson finally gave in.
I let out a sigh of relief. Even if I was thinking about breaking things off, I never wanted him dead. Especially not by my own hands.
I just hoped this time, I could actually change what happened in my last life.
After hanging up, I called a cab straight to the hospital.
Last time, I didn't have a shred of evidence. This time, I was determined to cover my bases and get all the proof I could.
As soon as I got to the hospital, one of the patient's relatives was still shouting and causing a scene.
He was waving a knife around, and nobody dared get close or try to talk him down.
I spotted someone in the distance already streaming the whole thing live.
Then I checked the time. It was exactly 2:30 PM.
With everyone watching, I took a deep breath and stepped up to him.
Every time he was about to calm down, I'd say something to set him off again.
Sure enough, after a few rounds of this, he glared at me, eyes blazing with fury. He stormed right up to me.
The man pressed the knife against my throat and forced me up to the hospital rooftop.
At that moment, it was exactly 3 PM.
The courtyard below was packed with onlookers. Everyone was watching me, all looking anxious and on edge.
Seeing all those security cameras around, I finally breathed a sigh of relief.
The cops showed up in no time. They stood right next to the hospital management, talking down the guy who was holding me hostage.
Even more people jumped on the live stream bandwagon.
The place was going wild, everyone was yelling for the guy to let me go.
But the more they pleaded, he just held on even tighter. The knife nicked my cheek, and a thin line of blood trickled down.
Here I was, staring death in the face, but weirdly enough, I felt totally calm.
Because in my previous life, this was the exact moment I got set up as the perfect fall guy for a killer.
She slaughtered my boyfriend Orson right there in the studio, no mercy at all.
The surveillance footage caught the whole thing, making it look like I was the one who did it.
But the only thing I remembered was being fast asleep.
With that ironclad video playing on repeat, I didn't stand a chance to defend myself.
I didn't have a shred of proof. And the chat logs showed I was the one who reached out to Orson first.
I was confronting him about that other woman, causing a scene and demanding Orson give me an explanation.
In the end, I was so furious I hopped in a cab and showed up at his place.
Then we got into a heated argument. Blinded by anger, I snatched the knife off the table and killed him.
The surveillance footage caught my face, my every move, my expression, clear as day, it was all me.
The outfit in the footage was my custom-made piece. Literally, there was only one like it in the whole world.
All the evidence painted me as the killer, driven by love twisted into jealousy and hate.