"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.

I was still caught in memories of my past life when Dana staggered toward me, eyes wild.

"Since you stole everything from me before, you can suffer for me this time," she hissed. "I'll take everything you care about."

She kept moving closer—then suddenly hurled herself backward.

"Ah! Claire, why did you push me?!"

Her forehead cracked against the floor, blood pouring instantly.

I didn't even get the chance to react.

A figure stormed into the room and slammed a kick into my side, sending me flying into the corner.

My back crashed against the cabinet, pain exploding up my spine as I collapsed, gasping on the floor.

Michael didn't even glance at me. He dropped to his knees beside Dana, scooped her up, and rushed to grab the first aid kit.

I coughed hard, body shaking as I tried to stand—but every time, I crumpled back down.

When he finally finished playing hero, Michael turned to me.

He grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked my head up, forcing me to kneel in front of Dana.

"Claire Chevron," he growled, "I told you—if last time wasn't enough, I'll make sure you live through it again."

Then he slammed my head into the floor.

Bang.

Bang.

Bang.

For a second, I wondered if I'd already died, and all that remained was the piece of me that refused to rest.

"This is your punishment," he said coldly. "Next time you push Dana, I'll round up ten men to push you around."

Only then did he let go.

I collapsed to the floor, too broken to even lift my head.

Dana looked down at me, finally satisfied.

"Michael, don't blame Claire. It's my fault for not knowing better. If she lashed out at me, I probably deserved it."

Michael scoffed. "Dana is always so thoughtful. Claire, for her sake, I'll let it slide—THIS time. But next time? You know what'll happen."

He scooped her up and walked out. "We're going to the hospital. If that cut leaves a scar, it'll be a problem."

I didn't know how long I laid there, aching and useless, before I finally managed to move.

I didn't take anything with me. Just dragged my bruised body into a cab.

When it stopped in front of the Baillieu estate, I finally exhaled.

At least there, I'd be safe.

At least they could protect me.

***

Claire skipped Michael and Dana's wedding.

When he didn't see her in the crowd, it bugged him. He meant to call—ask where she'd gone. Never did.

It wasn't until after the vows that he finally asked,

"Where's Claire?"

At her name, the Chevrons stiffened.

"She's at the Baillieu estate," Mr. Chevron said. "Told us she's done here—her lamb's dead, and the guy she loved married her sister. You made your choice, Michael. Live with it. Quit chasing what's not yours."

Michael blinked.

"The lamb's dead? What?"

Mrs. Chevron squirmed in her chair. "That day... Dana insisted on eating it. I tried to stop her, but..."

Then it clicked. The lamb on the table.

The Chevrons never served lamb.

And Claire? She treated that lamb like family. Pregnant or not, no one touched it. Definitely not for dinner.

"I'm getting her back."

He ripped off his jacket, stormed toward the door—only for Mr. Chevron to clamp down on his arm.

"Michael. She's already married into the Baillieu family now. Let her go."

Michael's hand curled into a fist. Voice like ice. "What did you just say? ALREADY MARRIED?"