Reset to the Day They Killed Me
On the day of my prenatal checkup, my husband's childhood sweetheart, Maya Crane, volunteered to drive me to the hospital herself.
Halfway there, she suddenly let out a cold laugh.
"Lara Quinn. You don't deserve Mason Sterling.
"You don't deserve to carry his baby."
My heart dropped. I clutched my stomach and tried to jump out of the car.
However, before I could move, she jerked the steering wheel–sending my side of the car straight toward an oncoming truck.
The truck swerved at the last second. Her side slammed into the guardrail.
Maya was dead at the scene. I was hemorrhaging, and the baby almost came too early.
In her last breath, dying in the wreck, she sent Mason a message.
[Mason… Lara did this to me on purpose…]
The police investigated for half a month and ruled me innocent.
Mason grieved, but he stayed by my side, caring for me with obsessive tenderness while I recovered.
The day I was discharged, he took me to the seaside.
Then he shoved me into the ocean. His voice was cold and merciless.
"Don't think destroying the evidence means you're safe. You caused her death. Pay for it with your life."
The sea filled my lungs.
And when I opened my eyes again–I was back to the day of my prenatal checkup.