Chapter 3

"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.