Birthday Do-Over

Elena spent the night roaming her dorm room, jumping at every creak of the floorboards. By sunrise, she had scribbled two things on her wall with her red lipstick:

SAVE DAD.

DESTROY LIAM.

Jess stumbled out of bed at 7 a.m., focusing at the what Elena had written on the wall. "Since when do you hate Liam? Isn't that your cousin's dog's name?"

"Long story," Elena muttered, scrubbing the words away with a wet sock. Her hands still shook, but her mind felt sharp. Clear. Like someone had wiped fog off a window. Today was July 13th, her 22nd birthday. The day she had first met Liam at the campus café.

"Not this time", Elena said to herself.

She dressed in baggy sweatpants and a hoodie, hiding her hair under a beanie. "Tell anyone who asks I've got fever," she told Jess, jumping back onto her bed.

"You look like a sneeze," Jess said, throwing her a granola bar. "But sure. Drama queen."

At 10 a.m. exactly, the knock came. Three polite knocks. Elena's heart slammed against her ribs.

"Elena?" Liam's voice oozed through the door, sweet as poisoned honey. "I heard today is your birthday".

She immediately squeezed her eyes shut. Don't answer. Don't look at him.

"I brought coffee! Pumpkin spice, extra whip?"

Elena stomach churned. In her past life, she would have melted at that gesture. "You remembered my favorite!" she would have rushed and flipped the door open. But now, she pressed a pillow over her face, breathing in the stale cotton smell until she heard his footsteps fade away.

Jess peeped out the window. "Hot guy alert! Who was that?"

"A cockroach in human skin," Elena said, voice muffled.

"Cool. Can I date him?"

"Only if you want to die poor and alone."

Her victory lasted until noon.

Richard Hart arrived unannounced, his limo parking outside the dorm like a sleek black panther. Elena watched from the window as he adjusted his red tie, not blue, and sneered at a student skateboarding by.

Dad.

Tears formed in Elena's eyes. Her dad looked younger. Less gray in his hair, fewer lines around his frown. In three years, Liam's poison would stop his heart. "But i wont allow it this time," She said confidently.

She met him in the lobby, where he handed a gift bag to her. "Happy birthday."

Inside was a small luxurious box. Elena already knew what it held: 5% shares of Hart Industries. Last time, she had screamed and hugged him. This time, she stared at the tiny stock certificates, her throat tight.

"You are... giving me part of the company?"

Richard cleared his throat. "You'll graduate soon. It's time to act like an adult."

An adult. Right. The man who had once called her "his little songbird" now spoke like a robot. Elena clutched the box tight until her knuckles turned white.

"Dad." The word felt rusty. "Can we talk about Mom?"

His face shut like a vault. "Not today."

"But Daddy about her accident, I found some files"

"Enough." He shut her up and checked his watch, a $200,000 habit. "I have a board meeting. Read the shareholder manual."

He left without a hug. Without even a smile. Elena stood frozen as her dad's limo pulled away, the gift box burning in her hands.

Back in her room, she dumped her old diaries onto the floor. Dozens of pink notebooks filled with doodles of wedding cakes and Mrs. Elena Blackwood in fancy letters.

"Yikes," Jess said, poking one with her toe. "Who's Liam Blackwood? Your imaginary vampire boyfriend?"

"Worse." Elena flicked a lighter. "He's the reason I need therapy."

The flames ate the pages hungrily. Smoke curled up, carrying the smell of burned sugar (she had once sprinkled the diaries with vanilla perfume). Jess coughed, fanning the air.

"Arsonist much?!"

"Rebirth," Elena corrected, watching her naivety turn to ash.

Her phone buzzed. Another text:

Unknown Number:

Good girl. Now check the locket.

She pulled the necklace off, almost dropping it. And inside it, beside her mother's photo, was a tiny key taped to the back.

What the..?

"Whoa, secret spy stuff!" Jess grabbed the key. "Looks like it's for a safe deposit box."

Elena's head pounded. Her mother had given her the locket on her tenth birthday, some hours before the car crash. "Keep this close, songbird," Clara had whispered, her breath smelling of jasmine tea.

Had she known? Had she planned this?

The campus bank closed at 5 p.m. Elena ran the whole way, Jess following her behind with a half eaten popsicle.

"Slow down, Elena! I am in flip flops!"

The safe deposit box was small, tucked in the back of a dusty vault. Inside of it were three things:

A faded photo of Clara holding a baby Elena, standing in front of a lab with a sign: Project Echo.

A receipt for two plane tickets to Switzerland dated the day Clara died.

A handwritten note:

If you are reading this, I'm gone. Trust no one. Not even Richard.

Elena's legs and hands began to shake. She sat on the cold floor, staring at her mother's beautiful handwriting. "Trust no one."

Jess whispered. "Your family's like... way more interesting than mine."

That night, Elena dreamed of the crash.

Rain. Shattered glass. Her mother's arms around her, screaming "Hold on!" Then headlights bright, blinding and a truck swerving into their lane.

But this time, she saw the license plate: VNOMOUS.

And the driver a man with icy blue eyes and a scar on his jaw.

Adrian Voss.

She woke screaming.