로그인“I want a second chance.”
My voice came out firm, almost desperate. The red-haired man stood before me with his hands in his pockets, eyes cool and unreadable.
I grabbed his sleeve, refusing to let go. “Please. Just tell me what I need to do. I’ll do anything.”
All I could think about was going back. Back to my body. Back to my parents. Back to Jason, if only to punch him square in the face for what he did. I wanted to wake up, hug my mother, and pretend none of this nightmare ever happened.
But Red only arched a brow, that mocking smile tugging at his lips. “You can’t return to your body. Not now. You’ll have to use another one.”
His words froze me. “What do you mean, use another one?”
Before I could argue, the ground vanished beneath me. The world blurred into streaks of light and wind. I screamed as we shot through the sky, weightless and terrified.
“Relax,” Red said, as if this was a normal Sunday morning. “You don’t have much time left. Try not to panic.”
“Not panic?! We’re flying!” I shouted, clutching at air.
“Exactly. And you’re lucky I’m even helping you.”
We landed, well, crashed inside a dimly lit room. I stumbled forward, grabbing a chair for balance. The place was a disaster. Clothes everywhere, half-eaten food on the desk, and an empty bottle rolling across the floor.
“What is this place?” I muttered in disbelief.
Red leaned lazily against the wall. “Your new home.”
I followed his gaze to the bed, where a woman was sprawled across it, snoring. Her makeup was smudged, her lipstick half gone, and she was drooling on the pillow.
“You can’t be serious,” I said flatly. “You don’t mean—”
He gave me a sly smirk. “Exactly what you’re thinking.”
“Absolutely not! I’m not possessing anyone!”
Before I could back away, something invisible yanked me upward. My vision blurred as I hovered over the sleeping girl. Panic clawed up my throat. “Stop! I don’t want this!”
Red’s voice hardened. “Unless you want to disappear forever, you don’t have a choice. A soul can’t linger without an anchor.”
Light burst around me, blinding and hot. Then everything went black.
When I opened them again, I was staring at a white ceiling. My fingers twitched. I inhaled sharply. Air filled my lungs.
“You’re not planning to lie there all day, are you?”
I turned toward the voice. Red was leaning against the window frame, watching me with that maddening smirk.
I sat up slowly. My voice sounded softer, different. “This isn’t my body…”
I stumbled to the mirror. The reflection staring back wasn’t mine. The girl’s hair was a mess, her eyes puffy, her face pale. I grabbed a brush and frowned. “What kind of life does this girl live? She can’t even wash her hair properly.”
Red chuckled. “Consider it karma for making me your guide.”
Something shimmered at my neck. I looked down and saw a small silver pendant glowing faintly.
“What’s this?”
“A link,” he said. “Press the button if you ever need me. I’ll appear, though I’d rather not.”
I opened my mouth to ask more, but before I could, he added, “One last thing. You only exist in the daylight now. Once the sun sets, you vanish until dawn.”
“What does that even mean—”
He was gone before I finished, the air rippling where he’d stood.
I groaned and turned toward the closet. “Great. Ghost girl by night, body snatcher by day.”
The wardrobe creaked open, revealing baggy jeans, oversized hoodies, and faded T-shirts. I almost cried. “You’ve got to be kidding me. No dresses? No heels? Not even a clean top?”
By the time I finished searching, the entire room looked like a crime scene.
I sighed, rubbing my temples. “Whoever this girl is, she seriously needs a stylist.”
It was almost eight a.m. I needed to go out, but there was no way I’d be caught dead in these clothes.
Out of frustration, I pressed the pendant repeatedly until Red appeared again, floating in midair with a glare. “What now?”
“I can’t go out looking like this,” I snapped.
He stared at me like I’d grown two heads. “I’ve guided a lot of souls, but none this stubborn.”
“I’m not stubborn. I just have standards.”
He sighed. “Fine. What do you want?”
“Money,” I said bluntly. “And better clothes. This girl’s wardrobe is a crime against fashion.”
Red gave a low whistle. “You really were an heiress, huh? Human greed runs deep.”
“Greed? Please. It’s called dignity.”
He flicked his fingers, and a box appeared on the bed. Inside were stylish clothes, familiar ones. My favorites.
My jaw dropped. “How did you—these are mine!”
He shrugged. “Let’s just say perks of being me.”
I grinned despite myself. “You have to teach me that trick.”
He smirked. “If I taught you how to do that, you’d spend eternity redecorating heaven.”
I rolled my eyes and started dressing.
As I buttoned up a black leather jacket and slid into ripped jeans with ankle boots, I felt a little like myself again. Not completely, but close.
Red was halfway through fading out when he turned back to me. “One more thing. Don’t ever reveal your real name. No one must know you’re Elizabeth.”
“Too many rules,” I muttered.
“Too little time,” he replied, and vanished.
I grabbed a bag from the table and hurried outside, determined to find Jason and demand answers.
I didn’t notice the man running after me until he called a name I didn’t recognize, one that sent a strange chill down my spine just before he caught my arm.
Elizabeth Pov I spend the whole day preparing for tonight, but no amount of preparation can calm the fear gnawing at my stomach.Midnight at Pier 47. An abandoned shipping district. Meeting someone who knows my biggest secret.Every logical part of my brain is screaming at me not to go. This is a trap. This is dangerous. This is exactly how people get killed.But I don't have a choice.If MK tells my father the truth, that his dead daughter is somehow alive in another woman's body, it will destroy him. He's already broken from losing me. Finding out I've been this close, watching him suffer, and never telling him? It would be too much. It might actually kill him.I can't let that happen.I sit on Claire's bed and pull out a piece of paper. My hands shake slightly as I write:If you're reading this, something went wrong. My name is Elizabeth Wakefield. I didn't die in that accident, I woke up in Claire Hart's body. I don't understand how or why. Jason and Jessica betrayed me. Marcus K
This woman is seriously strange. I can't figure out what she's trying to say. She doesn't recognize me, right? That would be completely insane.I shake off the thought and turn to walk away when suddenly a hand grabs my wrist. I spin around and see Jason standing there. His face is blank, unreadable.I yank my hand back immediately. The audacity of this man. His eyes widen slightly like he wasn't expecting me to pull away so forcefully. I can see the surprise flicker across his face before he tries to hide it."You look disturbed," he says, his voice softer than I expect. "Are you okay?"I stare at him for a moment, genuinely confused. What the hell is wrong with him? Who is he to ask if I'm okay? Since when does Jason Collen care about anyone but himself?I clear my throat and take another step back, putting more distance between us. "You don't get to stop me or grab my hand like that," I say firmly. "I don't want your wife to get the wrong idea.""She's not my wife." The words come
Elizabeth PovI didn't know what was wrong with me anymore.Claire's soul wouldn't let me concentrate. She kept pushing at the edges of my mind all morning, making everything feel foggy. Shouldn't she have been asleep by now? It was daytime. This was supposed to be my time.I remembered what Red said. Thirty days. That was all we had before everything fell apart. Thirty days to get my revenge, and I hadn't even really started.Just give me a week, I whispered inside my head. Hoping she could hear me. Hoping she'd back off and let me focus. Just one week and I'd figure the rest out.I shoved the report deeper into my bag. The one I'd taken from Jason's office that morning while he was in a meeting. I replaced it with a fake so he wouldn't notice. That report was important. It belonged to my father. Jason had no right to keep it.I stood up and headed for the door. Maybe some air would clear my head. But as I walked toward the cafeteria, something caught my eye through the big glass win
Rashford's Pov The taste of it was still in my mouth. The whole scene in Claire’s apartment, the broken lock, the knife on the floor, that piece of trash Danny pinned to the wall. And Claire, holding a phone with steady hands while her eyes were a storm of something I couldn’t name. The throw she’d used on Danny. That wasn’t a lucky shove. It was training. Expensive training.And then the way she’d broken in my arms afterward, but it didn’t explain the way she’d looked at me when she pulled away. That flicker in her eyes, gone in a heartbeat.Jessica’s furious words echoed: She’s lying about something!I’d dismissed it as jealousy. Now, I wasn’t so sure.I couldn’t sleep. I kept seeing two sets of eyes in the same face. The wide, lost ones of the waitress in my café, and the sharp, challenging ones of the woman who’d faced me down over coffee. Two different people. Or one very good actress.I needed answers that didn’t come from her lips. I called an old contact, a guy named Leo who
Elizabeth's Pov Sunset feels like a sigh.One moment, I’m anchored in the warm, solid weight of Claire’s body, feeling the ghost of Rashford’s embrace like a brand on my skin. The next, the world turns to watercolor. Colors bleed, sounds soften, and I’m slipping… up. Out.It’s not a choice anymore. It’s a law. Like gravity in reverse.The city passes beneath me in a smear of light and shadow. I don’t control the direction. I’m a leaf on a current, pulled toward the one place my soul still recognizes as home.St. Augustine’s Hospital. Room 407.I pass through the wall like it’s mist. The room is dim, lit only by the cold, green glow of monitors. The air smells like antiseptic.And there I am.Elizabeth Wakefield. Or what’s left of her.She’s paler than the sheets. A sculpture carved from wax and wire. Tubes and lines snake from her arms, her nose, connecting her to the machines that go beep… beep… beep… in a rhythm that’s supposed to mean life. It sounds like a countdown.I float clos
Jessica Wilson's POVHumiliation has a taste. It's all I've tasted for three days.That little nobody. That waitress. Smirking at me from the shelter of Jason's arms. Jason, throwing me out of my future husband's office. For her.I sat in the dim corner of a bar that was too expensive for its own good, swirling a glass of vodka I hadn't touched. The ice had melted. I didn't care. My reflection in the dark window was a ghost of the woman I was supposed to be, the elegant fiancée, the soon-to-be Mrs. Jason Collen. Now I just looked like a woman who'd been played.The door chimed. A man in a worn leather jacket slid into the booth opposite me. He didn't smile. His name was Kieran. He came recommended for being discreet and, more importantly, ruthless."You're the one with the problem," he said, not a question. His eyes were the color of dirty dishwater. They didn't look at me like a woman; they looked at me like a job."That problem," I hissed, leaning forward, "is named Claire Hart. I w







