Chapter 1

Sangaria City, Arlencia.

"Sasha, Mira's already engaged to Vincent. Stop messing with it. We booked your flight. You'll stay overseas until after the wedding."

The whole 'this is for your own good' routine was back. That's when Sasha Clarke realized—she'd been given a second shot.

Right to the day her parents forced her out of the country and made her give up Vincent Scythe.

Last time, she hadn't listened. She'd begged Vincent, tried to explain he'd fallen for her, not Mira. Pleaded with her parents to stop the act, to make Mira quit stealing her place.

All it did was make Vincent hate her more.

Even when she was bleeding out after the crash, he told the nurse on the phone, cold as ice, "What trick is she pulling now? Tell her to stop ruining my wedding with Mira."

She died on the operating table, eyes locked on the screen—Vincent sliding a ring onto Mira's finger, the whole world cheering them on.

But now? With a second shot at life? She wasn't crawling back.

"Fine. I'll go." She took the ticket, voice flat and calm—too calm.

Donald and Diana froze.

"You're really leaving?" Diana asked. "You're not planning something to ruin Mira, are you?!"

'Ruin?' What a joke.

Vincent had been hers.

They were the ones who handed him to Mira.

Over twenty years ago, when Mira was diagnosed with leukemia, Donald and Diana didn't blink—they had another kid. That kid was her.

Her cord blood saved Mira's life. From that moment on, she lived in Mira's shadow.

Mira was the sick one, the fragile one, so all the love went to her.

Sasha got used to giving things up—bedrooms, friends, competition spots.

But there was one thing she wouldn't let go of.

The boy she'd fallen for the second she saw him—Vincent Scythe, heir to the Scythe family.

He used to be untouchable, a golden boy in the clouds. Then a car crash after his birthday banquet left him blind and stashed away in some far-off estate.

Sasha never told anyone. She swiped the keys and climbed the wall every day after school just to be with him.

"I'll come every day."

In the dark, her voice—soft and clear—became the only thing holding Vincent together.

She never told him her real name. Just traced the letters in his palm: "Call me Twinkie."

He brushed her hair like it was glass, played piano for her, held her frozen hands against his chest when storms rolled in.

The night before his surgery, he kissed her fingertips.

"When my eyes are healed," he whispered, "you'll be the first person I see. When that happens... let's be together, okay?"

The surgery lasted twelve hours.

But when Vincent opened his eyes, he saw Mira.

Donald and Diana had found out Mira liked him too. So they drugged Sasha's water, knocked her out for a full day.

Then they lied. Told Vincent Mira had been the one by his side all those years.

And he believed it.

He fell for Mira, dated her, got engaged.

For three years, Sasha tried to tell him the truth—that she was the one he loved.

He never believed her.

Not until she died.

Staring at the two people who gave birth to her, Sasha felt nothing but dry amusement.

"You pushed me out over and over. Now that I'm saying yes, you don't buy it? Doesn't that sound a little messed up to you?"

"That's not what we meant," Diana said quickly. "If you're willing to go, that's for the best. You'll leave for Eurphie in two weeks. Use the time to pack and get your affairs in order."

Worried she'd change her mind, Donald and Diana tacked on a few more reminders, then left looking satisfied.

She turned and went back to her room.

The second the door shut, her phone buzzed.

A message from Vincent:

[Eight tonight. Grand Regency Hotel, 1808.]

Sasha stared at it, fingers curling just a little.

Last time, this message had made her heart race—she'd thought he was finally ready to listen.

Instead, he'd dragged her there to watch him screw Mira—like it was some sick, live show just to gut her.

She'd cried.

He'd looked her dead in the eye and said, "See it clearly? The only person I love is your sister."

Thinking about it now? It was pathetic. Almost funny.

She exhaled slow, then typed back:

[Okay.]

At eight sharp, she walked into the Grand Regency Hotel.

The door to 1808 was wide open.

Vincent had his arms around Mira, their bare bodies tangled together.

Used condoms littered the floor, and the air was thick with lust.

Mira jolted when she saw Sasha standing there.

Vincent didn't even flinch. He just kissed down Mira's collarbone, voice low and smooth.

"Don't be scared. I called her here on purpose. She needs to see it. Needs to understand I love you. That from now on, I'm only going to be her future brother-in-law."

Even after living through it once, watching it again still felt like getting gutted—bloody and raw.

But she had to get used to it.

Because Vincent wasn't hers. And he never would be.

After who knows how long, Sasha finally unclenched her fist. Her palm was carved with deep nail marks.

Vincent was walking toward her now, fully dressed.

"Did you see it clearly?" he said. "The only person I love is your sister. Don't forget your place. I'm your future brother-in-law. Stop doing those shameless things."

Her face didn't move. "Yeah. I saw. I get it."

He hesitated—like he didn't expect her to be this calm.

Then he picked up a wedding invite from the nightstand and handed it to her. "Mira and I are getting married next month. I hope you'll come."

Sasha took it. "I'll be there. Right on time. And I'll wish you both a long, happy life."

Vincent frowned, eyes fixed on her.

For some reason, Sasha was way too obedient today.

He didn't question it. He just laced his fingers with Mira's and headed out of the Grand Regency. Sasha trailed after them, her steps dragging.

Her head was down, thoughts drifting, when a sharp scream ripped through the air.

A huge overhead sign came crashing down.

Vincent reacted on instinct, yanking Mira back just in time.

Sasha was the only one still standing there.

The sign slammed into her. Blood splashed as she hit the floor.

Pain tore through her in brutal waves, shredding her nerves until she shook in a spreading pool of red.

Tears blurred her vision. Through it, she saw him holding Mira, shielding her.

Then she shut her eyes.

The boy who'd once belonged only to her was gone for good.

And she could finally let him go.