The day her father died was forever etched in Avery Kane's mind, a violent rupture that split her world into two halves: the before and the after. The day the sun no longer shone with its usual warmth, and the stars no longer seemed as bright.
She had been just sixteen when her father was murdered—far too young, far too naive to understand the gravity of the darkness that had always lurked at the edge of her life. Raised in silk and privilege, with everything she could ever need at her fingertips, she had never known fear. Not until that night.
The house was her sanctuary. It was always filled with warmth and the subtle fragrance of her mother's favorite lavender perfume. But on the night her father died, there was no fragrance. Only the sharp, acrid scent of gunpowder in the air. The night her father was taken from her, she had been in her room, reading a book she had long since forgotten. Her mother had been gone for years, taken by a relentless disease—a rare, cruel affliction that had ravaged her body and stolen her from Avery's arms when she was still young. Leukemia. It had been a slow, drawn-out battle that no amount of wealth or doctors could stop. But her mother's death had been a distant ache, a scar that never truly healed.
Her father had been the pillar of her world—the strong, silent man who had carried the weight of their family after her mother's passing. And now, he was gone too.
It was late, well past midnight, when the shots rang out.
The first shot had shattered the quiet of the night. Avery's eyes snapped open, her heart pounding in her chest. Then came the second shot, louder this time. The house felt alive with danger—alive in a way it never had before. She heard her father's voice shouting down the hallway, commanding, strong—just like always. But then, the third shot came.
Silence.
The kind of silence that screamed louder than any gunshot.
Avery had rushed down the stairs, her legs heavy and uncooperative. She found her father's body sprawled across the floor of the living room, blood soaking into the plush carpet. His face—forever etched in her mind—was frozen in shock. His eyes were wide, still wide with fear or pain, or maybe disbelief. The man she had known, the man who had always been so untouchable, was gone. And in his place was only a broken shell.
The police arrived, but their efforts were useless. The man responsible had already disappeared into the shadows. Ethan Carrington. A name spoken in whispers, a man feared by everyone, even those who were closest to him. His reputation had preceded him for years, and now, Avery knew it was him—the mafia lord who had just taken everything from her.
But what could she do? She was just a girl, lost in a world she had never prepared for.
Months passed. The funeral came and went. Life, it seemed, continued. But Avery felt like a ghost in her own life, moving through the motions, smiling when expected, speaking only when necessary. She was the heir to a legacy, but without her father, it meant nothing.
Her grandfather, who had stepped in to care for her after her mother's death, had tried to offer comfort, but it never quite reached her. Avery found herself speaking in half-formed sentences, in quiet whispers to herself. Nothing felt real anymore. Nothing felt worth it.
Then came the moment they told her.
They told her that Ethan Carrington was dead.
"Gone," her grandfather had said in a quiet voice, his gaze never meeting hers. "The whole empire is falling apart. He's gone. The mafia is… crumbling."
Avery hadn't reacted. She hadn't felt relief. No closure, no sense of justice. Just emptiness. The very name that had haunted her for months—no, years—was now just an echo in the past. She was supposed to feel something, but she didn't. How could she? Ethan Carrington's death didn't bring her father back. It didn't fill the hollow space that had opened inside of her.
A year passed. The city of Venhart, once vibrant and alive, now seemed to crumble beneath the weight of its own lawlessness. The streets grew darker, the violence more frequent. And yet, Avery could only watch from the sidelines, her life no longer a journey but a quiet, unending cycle of emptiness.
It was one of those nights when she found herself standing at her bedroom window, looking out at the darkened sky. She could feel the weight of everything pressing down on her—the memories of her father, the pain of losing her mother, the coldness of a world that had moved on without her.
Her fingers brushed the glass, tracing the cold lines of the windowpane as she stared at the stars. The universe above her felt so distant, so unreachable. She could see the same stars that had once twinkled in her father's eyes when he used to tell her stories of the world beyond. A life full of hope, of promise.
But now, there was nothing left but the ghosts.
Avery closed her eyes, allowing herself a moment to grieve for everything that had been stolen from her. She thought of her father. She thought of her mother, and of the emptiness she had carried ever since. And then, she wished.
"If only I could go back," she whispered, the words so quiet they seemed to disappear into the air. "If only I could fix everything. Stop it before it happened. Stop him before he ever…"
Her voice trailed off, her wish incomplete, but deep in her heart, she felt it—desperately, achingly. The desire to change the past, to save her father, to stop Ethan Carrington before he could ever destroy everything.
She didn't realize she was holding her breath until she saw it. A streak of light—a flash across the sky, bright and sudden. Her heart skipped a beat. A shooting star.
Without thinking, Avery pressed her hands to the glass. She closed her eyes tightly, wishing with everything inside her. "Please," she whispered to the stars, to the universe, to anyone who might be listening. "Take me back. Let me fix this. Let me change it all."
The sky flickered as if in response, and a sudden pressure, a weight, fell over her. The room felt as though it was shifting, warping. She stumbled back from the window, her feet unsteady as the world began to tilt. The air seemed to hum with energy, and the walls of her room stretched and twisted. Her pulse quickened, her mind spinning as she reached for something—anything—to steady herself.
And then, before she could even scream, the world fell away.
Avery's body jerked, her feet lifting off the ground as the world around her blurred into a swirling vortex of light and shadow. Her breath caught in her throat as she felt herself falling, plummeting through the fabric of reality itself.
She landed with a soft thud on the ground, the air knocked from her lungs as she scrambled to regain her bearings. Her heart pounded, the remnants of her fall still echoing in her chest. She pushed herself up from the ground, only to find that the world around her was nothing like what she had known.
The road she had been standing on—the very street outside her window—was gone. In its place, there was nothing but rolling green fields and the distant hum of a city she did not recognize.
A city that seemed both familiar and foreign.