Three months later, the neon lights of Times Square bled through Bryn's transparent form. She floated in front of a massive jumbotron, staring at the breaking news ticker.

On the screen, Keifer walked out of a federal courthouse. His hands were cuffed in front of him. His perfectly styled hair was a greasy mess, and his handsome face was pale with absolute terror.

The news anchor's voice announced that the Holcomb family had all their assets seized by the federal government due to massive tax fraud and perjury charges.

The screen cut to a new image. Fabiola stood in a courtroom wearing an orange jumpsuit. She looked exhausted, her face devoid of makeup, facing life in prison for wire fraud and conspiracy to commit murder across state lines.

A rush of pure adrenaline hit Bryn's chest. The revenge felt good, but a hollow, freezing emptiness quickly followed.

She realized Dominic hadn't been in the news. He hadn't appeared anywhere in the last three months. A sickening panic gripped her throat.

The giant screen flickered. A violent, invisible force grabbed Bryn's soul and yanked her backward.

She slammed back into reality, standing in the middle of the Pine Grove Cemetery in Seattle. The storm was gone. The sun beat down on her back.

Her grave had been completely rebuilt. The new, massive headstone was surrounded by hundreds of fresh white lisianthus flowers.

Dominic stood quietly in front of the stone. He was wearing a pristine, perfectly tailored white tuxedo.

His hair was combed back flawlessly. A diamond brooch caught the sunlight on his lapel. He looked like a man about to walk down the aisle.

Bryn dropped to the grass in front of him. She looked up at his face. His skin was ashen, completely drained of blood. Her heart felt like it was being crushed in a vice.

Dominic slowly crouched down. His long fingers reached out and gently traced the porcelain photo of Bryn on the headstone. A soft, genuine smile touched his lips.

He whispered to the stone. He told her it was finally over. The people who hurt her were rotting in hell, and now, he could finally come pick her up.

Bryn's eyes went wide. Panic exploded in her chest. She waved her hands frantically, screaming at him to stop, begging him to just live his life.

Dominic reached into the pocket of his white jacket. He pulled out a silver surgical scalpel. The sharp blade gleamed in the bright sunlight.

He didn't hesitate for a single second. He pressed the blade hard against the radial artery of his left wrist and pulled.

Bright red blood sprayed through the air. It splattered across the pure white fabric of his tuxedo, blooming like crushed red roses in the snow.

Bryn let out a blood-curdling scream. She threw herself at his arm, trying to press her hands against the open wound, but her ghostly fingers slipped right through the hot blood.

Dominic slumped backward. He leaned heavily against the granite headstone. He didn't try to stop the bleeding. He just let his life drain away, his dark eyes fixed tenderly on her carved name.

He used the very last ounce of his strength to lean forward. He pressed his pale lips against the cold stone, leaving a bloody kiss right above her name.

Bryn fell to her knees beside him, sobbing uncontrollably. The truth hit her with the force of a freight train. This man had loved her with his entire life.

Dominic's chest stopped moving. Those aggressive, hostile eyes slowly fluttered shut, leaving behind a face of total peace.

The moment his heart stopped, the air around Bryn violently warped. A sickening vertigo twisted her stomach inside out.

A blinding white light swallowed the cemetery. It swallowed Dominic's bleeding body. It swallowed her soul.

A sharp, high-pitched ringing pierced her ears. Bryn gasped for air and snapped her eyes open.

She wasn't floating. The soles of her shoes were planted firmly on a hard linoleum floor. Her back was pressed tight against a row of freezing metal lockers.

The deafening noise of high school teenagers shouting and slamming doors hit her eardrums. The air smelled like cheap body spray and industrial bleach.

Bryn held up her hands. They were solid. Her skin was warm. Around her right wrist was the braided lucky bracelet she used to wear when she was sixteen.

She whipped her head to the side and stared at the digital clock mounted on the brick wall. The red numbers glared back at her: September 14, 2018. 8:15 AM.

She was back in high school. Three years before she died. The gears of fate had just violently shifted into reverse.

Bryn closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. The stale, dusty air of the hallway filled her lungs. She felt the heavy, rhythmic thumping of her heart beating against her ribs. She was alive.

Heavy, arrogant footsteps echoed from the end of the hall. The loud chatter died down instantly. Students parted like the Red Sea, pressing themselves against the lockers to make way.

Bryn opened her eyes. She looked straight through the crowd and locked onto the tall figure wearing a custom-tailored blazer.

Seventeen-year-old Dominic Hutchinson walked with one hand shoved in his pocket. His eyes were cold, rebellious, and completely unapproachable. He radiated a hostility that kept everyone ten feet away.

He walked straight toward Bryn. His dark eyes flicked over her pale face for a fraction of a second before his lips twisted into a mocking sneer.

Dominic raised his hand and slammed his palm against the metal locker right next to Bryn's ear. The loud bang made the students nearby flinch. He boxed her in between his body and the cold steel.

He leaned down. The crisp scent of wintergreen mint and faint tobacco washed over her face. He lowered his voice and told her she looked like a complete idiot today.

Whispers broke out down the hall. Everyone assumed the school tyrant was just starting his daily routine of bullying the Callahan heiress.

In her past life, Bryn would have bristled like a cornered cat and screamed right back at him.

But right now, Bryn didn't flinch. She tilted her chin up and looked directly into the deep, dark abyss of his eyes.

She looked past the arrogant smirk. She saw the broken man kneeling in the mud, crying over her ashes in the freezing rain.

Heat rushed to Bryn's eyes. Without thinking, she lifted her hand. Her warm fingertips lightly brushed against the tense, sharp line of his jaw.

Dominic's entire body went rigid. A flash of absolute, naked panic shattered the coldness in his eyes.

He yanked his hand off the locker and stumbled backward like he had just touched a live wire. A dark, furious red color rapidly spread across the tips of his ears.

"Don't be a psycho," Dominic snapped at her, trying to sound vicious, but his voice came out an octave lower and dangerously raspy.

Bryn watched him panic. A bright, genuine smile broke across her face. She looked at him softly and said, "Good morning to you too."

That simple, gentle greeting dropped like a bomb in the hallway. The whispers instantly died, replaced by the collective sound of fifty teenagers gasping for air.

Dominic stared at her like she had grown a second head. His Adam's apple bobbed hard. He spun on his heel and practically sprinted down the hallway to get away from her.

Bryn watched his broad shoulders retreat. She made a silent vow to herself right then and there: in this life, she would never let him suffer for her again.

"Bryn!"

A loud, overly confident voice called out from behind the crowd.

Keifer Holcomb strutted toward her, wearing his blue and gold varsity football jacket. He flashed his trademark blinding smile, looking incredibly pleased with himself.

In her past life, that smile made her stomach flutter. Now, a wave of hot bile rose in the back of her throat. She felt physically sick looking at him.

Keifer stopped in front of her. He casually reached out to drape his heavy arm over her shoulders, moving with the entitled confidence of a boy who owned her.

Bryn's eyes turned to ice. She took a sharp step to the right. Keifer's hand awkwardly grabbed nothing but air.

His smile faltered for a second. But his massive ego immediately kicked in to protect him. He assumed she was just playing hard to get to make him jealous.

He leaned in close and used a patronizing, gentle tone. "What's this?" he asked, a smug grin playing on his lips. "Are you playing hard to get because I didn't text you back last night? Is this your new little trick to get my attention?"

Bryn stared at his fake, concerned face. The image of his twisted, violent expression as he shoved her off the cliff flashed behind her eyes.

She dug her fingernails into her palms to stop herself from slapping him across the face. She slowly lowered her gaze, staring pointedly at the brand-new, limited-edition sneakers on his feet.

Bryn let out a short, cold laugh. She crossed her arms over her chest and looked Keifer up and down like he was a piece of trash on the sidewalk.

She cleared her throat. She made sure her voice was loud enough for every single person in the hallway to hear exactly what she was about to say.

Bryn kept her eyes locked on Keifer's pristine Air Jordans. Her gaze dripped with undisguised contempt.

Keifer noticed where she was looking. He proudly shifted his weight, tapping the toe of his shoe on the floor. He thought she was admiring the shoes he bought using his scholarship stipend.

Bryn snapped her head up. Her voice rang out, sharp and cold. She demanded he pay her back for the shoes he ruined last week. Right now.

The hallway went dead silent. Every single pair of eyes shifted to Keifer's suddenly frozen face.

His eyes bugged out of his head. He stuttered, asking if she was joking, reminding her that they never kept track of money between them.

Bryn let out a harsh laugh. She told him that was when she was stupid, but from now on, every penny was accounted for.

She spoke clearly, enunciating every syllable. She stated the exact price of the limited-edition Jimmy Choo heels: eight hundred and sixty-five dollars.

Blood rushed to Keifer's face, turning his cheeks a dark, humiliated purple. He was a charity case at this school. He didn't have eight hundred dollars in his bank account, let alone in cash.

He dropped his voice to a frantic whisper. He reached out to grab the sleeve of her blazer, begging her to stop making a scene in front of everyone.

Bryn slapped his hand away like he was a diseased rat. She took a large step backward, putting a safe physical distance between them.

She raised her voice even louder. She mocked him, saying that if he was too broke to pay it all at once, she would accept a payment plan.

Bryn unzipped her designer bag and pulled out her iPhone. She tapped the screen a few times, pulled up her Venmo QR code, and shoved the bright screen directly into his face.

A low wave of laughter rippled through the crowd of students. For a narcissist like Keifer, being publicly exposed as poor was worse than taking a bullet.

Keifer clenched his fists. The veins in his neck popped. He convinced himself she was only doing this to humiliate him into begging for her attention.

Desperate to save face, he forced a tight, arrogant smirk. He pulled out his own phone, scanned the code, and hissed that he was sending the money, telling her not to come crying to him later.

Bryn watched the green notification pop up on her screen. She immediately hit accept. She looked up and loudly announced that their debt was settled, and they were officially done.

Before he could react, she added one last sentence. She wished him and Fabiola a very happy life together.

The hallway exploded. Gasps and shocked whispers bounced off the lockers. Students pointed at Keifer, their eyes filled with disgust at the implication that he was hooking up with her adopted sister.

Keifer's face went from purple to chalk white. He threw his hands up, stammering wildly, trying to explain that he and Fabiola were just like brother and sister.

Bryn didn't care to listen to his pathetic lies. She turned her back on him, her posture straight and untouchable, and walked away.

The loud, piercing shriek of the warning bell echoed through the hall, shattering the heavy tension.

The crowd broke apart, but every single student immediately pulled out their phones, furiously typing on Snapchat and the school's anonymous gossip forum.

Keifer stood frozen in the middle of the hallway like a statue. He felt the mocking stares burning into his skin. His massive pride was shattered into a million pieces on the linoleum floor.

Bryn walked toward her AP History classroom. Her chest felt lighter. The suffocating weight of her past life was finally starting to lift.

She reached the heavy wooden door of the classroom and stopped. Dominic was leaning against the brick wall right next to the frame.

He had clearly watched the entire execution. His dark eyes were fixed on her, analyzing her with a deep, intense curiosity.

Bryn didn't look away. She held his gaze and gave him a quick, playful wink, like they were sharing a private joke.

Dominic's breath hitched. He pushed himself off the wall so fast his shoulder bumped the brick. He let out a defensive scoff to cover his reaction.

But instead of throwing a cruel insult at her, he reached out and pulled the heavy wooden door open for her.

Bryn smiled. She whispered a soft "thank you" and walked into the classroom, her head held high, ready to start her new life.