로그인"Elena, please. I made a mistake. We can start over—" My ex-husband was on his knees in my penthouse, tears streaming down his face. The same man who pushed me down the stairs. Who murdered my unborn daughters. Who watched me die. I looked at him—really looked at him—and felt nothing. "You want to apologize?" My voice was steady. Cold. "You should have thought of that before you killed our babies." His face crumpled. "Elena—" "It's too late to apologise." ★★★ When Damien pushed me down the stairs, I died knowing he'd destroyed me. My cheating husband and my best friend—his pregnant mistress—stood over my bleeding body and smiled. But death gave me a gift: I woke up three days before he destroyed my life. This time, I wouldn't be his victim. This time, I exposed his affair at our gender reveal party. Served him divorce papers in front of everyone. Took back everything he stole. Then Calloway Sterling appeared—the ruthless billionaire CEO my ex feared most. Six feet of dangerous power with storm-gray eyes. "Marry me. One year. He'll never touch you again." A contract marriage. Just revenge. Until Calloway's possessive touches felt too real. Until a paternity test proved he was my baby's father—not my ex-husband. "Three months ago, you went to a fertility clinic," Calloway told me. "The sample wasn't your ex-husband's. It was mine."
더 보기Six months after the bathtub incident, life began to feel almost normal.Almost.I sat in Dr. Reeves' office for what she promised would be our final session. Six months of twice-weekly therapy. Six months of processing trauma, memory recovery, and learning to live with the knowledge that my daughter had survived three deaths."How are you feeling?" Dr. Reeves asked."Honestly? Better." I settled into the familiar chair. "The nightmares have stopped. The anxiety is manageable. I can let Rosie take a bath without having a panic attack.""That's significant progress." She made a note. "And your memories?""Fully restored. Everything from the past three years. My relationship with Calloway, Rosie's birth, the kidnapping, the trial—all of it." I paused. "Even the time loop. I remember both timelines now. The one where I died and the one where I survived.""And you've made peace with that?""As much peace as anyone can make with dying and coming back.
I was moving before my brain caught up.Shoving past Victoria. Into the bathroom. Plunging my hands into the water.Rosie's body was limp. Heavy. Wrong.I pulled her out, water streaming everywhere. Her lips were blue. Eyes closed. Not breathing."No, no, no—" I laid her on the bathroom floor. Tilted her head back. Started compressions. "Not again. Not again!"Calloway dropped beside me. "I've got breaths."One. Two. Three. Four. Five compressions.Breathe.One. Two. Three. Four. Five.Breathe."How did she get in there?" Marcus's voice from the doorway. "The tub was empty. I checked the bathroom an hour ago.""Someone call 911!" Sienna was on her phone already.One. Two. Three. Four. Five.Breathe.Rosie remained still. Blue. Gone."Come on, baby," I sobbed. "Come on. You survived twice already. You can do this. You can—"One. Two. Three. Four. Five.Breathe."Elena, let me—" Calloway tried to take over c
"You want to do what?"The contractor stared at me like I'd lost my mind. Maybe I had."Fill in the pool," I repeated. "Completely. I want it removed."We stood in the backyard of the Sterling estate—Victoria's property where family gatherings were held. Where a beautiful infinity pool overlooked the gardens.Where, in 2.5 years, Rosie would drown."Mrs. Sterling, that's a fifty-thousand-dollar pool. Custom designed. It would cost nearly as much to remove it as it did to install.""I don't care what it costs." I crossed my arms. "I want it gone. This week."The contractor looked to Calloway for support. For reason.Calloway just nodded. "You heard her. Fill it in. Replace it with a garden. Whatever she wants.""But—""We're paying you to do a job, not to question it." Calloway's tone left no room for argument. "Can you do it or not?"The contractor sighed. "I can do it. But I'm telling you, it's a waste of—""Then get started." I
The dreams came every night after that.Different scenarios. Different ages. But always the same ending.Rosie dying.The second night, I dreamed of her at age five. Playing in a park. Running. Then—nothing. Just her small body on the ground. Paramedics. People crying.The third night, she was seven. In a school. Fire alarms. Smoke. Her face in a window, screaming.The fourth night, ten years old. Swimming. Going under. Not coming back up.Each dream was vivid. Detailed. Specific. I could see the clothes she wore. Hear the exact words people spoke. Feel the temperature of the air.They weren't normal nightmares.They were premonitions.By the end of the first week, I looked like death. Dark circles under my eyes. Hands shaking from too much coffee and too little sleep. I was terrified to close my eyes. Terrified of what I'd see."Elena." Calloway found me in the kitchen at three AM, staring at cold coffee. "You can't keep doing this."
Sienna Brooks stood at the bottom of the stairs, her eyes scanning the basement until they landed on me. On Charlotte. Her expression was unreadable. Cold. Determined. "Oh, there you are, Damien." She called up the stairs. Her voice
"Hello, wife." Damien's voice was calm. Almost pleasant. Like we were old friends catching up. "Miss me?" I couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't scream. Charlotte squirmed in my arms, sensing my terror. "Don't." The word came out s
I sat on the bed, holding Charlotte's car seat, listening to Calloway's muffled voice through the door. He was on the phone with Marcus. Then the police. Then what sounded like a private security company. Every sound m
I woke to Charlotte's crying. My body ached. Every muscle screamed in protest as I shifted on the thin mattress. The concrete floor beneath had offered no cushioning, no comfort. How long had I slept? Minutes? Hours?






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