My parents made Dana and me settle it with rock-paper-scissors. Loser had to marry the Baillieu heir—the so-called "freak."

I won. Then flipped the script.

"Cool. I'll take Blake. Dana can have the empire."

Last time? I was dumb in love with Michael—Dad's adopted golden boy. Chose the company, stayed behind, and handed Dana off to Blake Baillieu.

Big mistake.

Six months in, Dana was gone—wrecked by that marriage.

Right before she croaked, she texted Michael blaming me. Said I lost the game and ditched the deal, dumping Blake on her.

Michael? Snapped. Dude went full psycho.

Turns out, he and Dana had been sneaking around for years.

He dragged me behind the Baillieu estate and forced a dozen intellectually disabled men to assault me.

"If it weren't for your cruelty, Dana would still be alive! You'll pay for everything she suffered!"

I was over eight months pregnant—almost due.

Begged him to stop. Begged for my baby's life.

He didn't care. Kept ordering them to take turns. Even when my water broke, he just watched.

Both my baby and I died that night.

Now? I'm back.

And this time, I rewrote the story.

Step one: marry Blake.

When I said I'd marry Blake Baillieu in Dana's place, my parents swapped one of those quiet, relieved looks.

"You sure? No take-backs," Dad said.

The memory of suffocating still burned around my mouth. I nodded. "Yeah. I'm sure."

They didn't argue. Just nodded, all silent approval.

I let out a bitter laugh. 'Knew it.'

Last time, same setup. They called rock-paper-scissors the "fairest" way to decide.

Please. Like they didn't notice I always lost to Dana.

They never stopped to think I was losing on purpose.

But for Michael? I played for real.

When I finally beat her, they freaked. Tried to make it a best-of-three.

Didn't matter—I won ten rounds straight. They had no choice but to suck it up.

And now? Even though I won, I'm choosing Blake.

My parents were all in. Probably scared I'd flip again.

Dad locked it down fast. "Then it's settled. Claire marries Blake Baillieu. Dana gets the family business."

Just then, someone blew into the room like a freaking hurricane and yanked Dana into a full-on soap opera hug.

"Dana, this time, no one can tear us apart."

I froze. 'This time?'

Wait—Michael came back too?

His eyes lit up like some long-lost Romeo. Then he turned to my parents, all fake sincerity.

"Dad, Mom, Claire's just trying to weasel out of marrying into the Baillieu family. Dana and I are in love. Please let us be together."

Then came the glare. Straight at me. Pure venom.

"Give it up, Claire. No matter what tricks you pull, I'm not marrying you."

Watching the two of them cling, I could barely hold in a laugh.

If you two were so in love, why'd you marry me last time?

Oh right—money. Power. The usual.

Dad cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable.

"Michael, Claire's already agreed to marry into the Baillieu family. If you love Dana, we can start planning your wedding too."

Michael paused, then caught on fast. His eyes lit up. He scooped Dana up and spun her.

"Dana, we can finally be together!"

Michael grabbed her hand and bolted, probably off to broadcast their love story.

I watched them go, eyes ice cold, then turned to my parents.

Funny. Last time I told them about Michael and me, they acted like I'd committed a crime.

We were "siblings," remember? So it was suddenly some twisted, incest scandal.

They called me shameless. Disgusting. Immoral.

But now that it was Dana? Suddenly, it was a love story worth celebrating.

Realizing how loud their bias was, Dad cleared his throat.

"Claire, don't worry. We'll prepare a generous wedding gift. We won't let anyone look down on you."

I let out a soft laugh. "Alright."

I didn't expect anything from them anymore.

Might as well take whatever scraps they offered.

***

I went to a bridal fashion show to pick out a dress—and guess who was sitting in the same row?

Michael and Dana. All smiles, pointing at models and whispering about wedding styles.

In my past life, I'd wanted the same. A real wedding.

Michael shut it down.

"We're siblings on paper," he said. "If we go big, people will talk. Let's just do a small family dinner."

Now? Watching him fuss over every detail with Dana? Yeah, that stung.

I turned to leave. Dana stopped me.

"Well, well. What a coincidence, Claire. Dress shopping too? Where's my future brother-in-law?"

She gasped dramatically. "Oh right—I forgot. He's special needs, isn't he? Probably can't even leave the house."

Michael chuckled. "Since you're marrying a special-needs guy, why bother with a dress? You're just there to pop out an heir. Might as well skip the fabric and save him the effort."

I froze.

Never thought I'd hear something that vile—from him.

I slowly turned, ignoring Dana's smug little smirk and locked eyes with him.

"So that's what you really think?"

For a split second, guilt flashed across Michael's face. Then he looked away.

Didn't need a confession—his silence said it all.

Dana jumped in, voice dripping with fake concern.

"Michael's right. Your fiancé's a special-needs guy. Why bother with a dress? You're just playing dress-up for someone who won't even notice."

My face darkened. "I chose to marry into the Baillieu family to give YOU what you wanted. Don't forget—I WON that game."

Before I could go on, Dana's eyes filled with tears. "I know you like Michael too, but you're the one who wanted to marry into the Baillieus for their money. And now you're blaming me?"

Cue the waterworks. Tears rolling under the spotlight.

Michael panicked, rushing to wipe her tears.

"Apologize to Dana."

His voice? Ice-cold.

In that instant, I saw him for who he really was—the same monster who'd pinned me down, ordering those men to ruin me.

A cold shiver shot through me. I turned to leave—then crack. A slap sent me sprawling to the floor.

"That's for forgetting your place," he snarled. "Dana's your sister. Don't ever make her cry again."

Heat stung my cheek. I kept my head low, refusing to look at him—until he grabbed my chin and slapped me again.

"This one's to remind you—you don't get to have feelings for me."

Dana's eyes gleamed with twisted satisfaction before she stepped forward, pretending to shield me.

"Michael, Claire only acted that way because she likes you too much. Don't blame her. If it'll make things right, I'll marry into the Baillieu family instead."

The second Dana mentioned the Baillieu family, Michael's face darkened. He remembered exactly how her last life ended.

A cruel glint flashed in his eyes as he ground his heel down on my fingers.

Pain ripped through my hand, sharp and hot, shooting straight to my chest.

"Claire Chevron," he hissed, "you'd better marry into the Baillieu family—or I'll let those freaks have another go at you."

Then he walked off with Dana, leaving me on the floor, staring at my swollen fingers, the pain throbbing with every heartbeat.

"Michael... I get it now. I won't love you again. I can't."

***

I stumbled home in a daze and found my family casually eating dinner.

The moment I walked in, my parents looked up—awkward, surprised.

"Claire, what are you doing back? Weren't you supposed to stay at the Baillieu estate today?"

I glanced at the lamb on the table, my voice ice-cold. "Who told you that?"

No one answered. Just a quick glance between them and Dana.

That said it all.

I kept my eyes locked on the dish. My mom shot up from her seat.

"Claire, have you eaten? I'll tell the kitchen to make something—"

"No need." I forced a smile and turned toward my room.

When I was five—before Dana was even born—my parents gave me a lamb for my birthday. Alpie.

After Dana showed up, they forgot I existed.

But Alpie didn't. It stayed. Grew up with me.

Because of it, I banned lamb from the house. Everyone knew that.

But tonight... I came back late.

I didn't want to think about it. Just sprinted upstairs to find it.

Animals pick up on scent. I didn't want it panicked by the smell of lamb meat.

"Alpie! Alpie!"

I searched the whole house—nothing. Not a sound. Not a shadow.

A cold chill crept down my spine.

I raced back downstairs and grabbed Dana's arm.

"What are you eating?"

I stared at her lips, desperate for her to deny it—to tell me I was wrong.

She burst out laughing.

"We're eating your Alpie! And guess what? It actually tasted pretty good."

The soup glistening on her mouth made my stomach twist. I let go of her and staggered back, dry heaving.

But she wasn't finished. Oh no.

She leaned in with a smirk, voice dripping with cruelty.

"Claire, you should've seen it. That dumb lamb kept staring toward your room before it died—like it thought you'd save it. Isn't that hilarious? You're getting married anyway. Keeping it around was pathetic. So we made soup."

Her laugh cut through me like a blade.

Something in me snapped. Rage exploded in my chest. I slapped her—hard.

"Why?" I shouted. "I gave you everything! I chose Blake so you could be with Michael. Why won't you just leave me alone?"

Dana clutched her cheek, head lifting slowly, eyes blazing with hate. "Why? Because in our last life, YOU stayed behind and shoved me off to that Baillieu freak!

"I was trapped serving him, forced to have his kid! I only turned to Michael to give them what they wanted, and the Baillieus locked me up like some animal!

"Meanwhile, you took everything that should've been mine!"

And just like that, it all clicked.

That's why the Baillieus—normally so calm, so proper—had tortured her to death last time.

She'd betrayed them. Slept with Michael. Got pregnant with his child.

No wonder Michael lost it when she died.