The sterile white of the hospital room was a stark contrast to the burning inferno in Ava Smith's chest. Each breath was a shallow, ragged gasp, a fight she was rapidly losing. Her vision, blurred at the edges, struggled to focus on the two figures looming over her, their faces contorted into grotesque masks of malicious delight.
"Look at her," a sickly sweet voice purred, dripping with feigned sympathy that made Ava's stomach churn. It was Lila Hayes, her best friend, the confidante she'd shared every secret with, the one who'd smiled while twisting the knife. Her perfect blonde hair, usually a halo of innocence, seemed to mock Ava in the dim light.
Beside her, Julian Anderson, her fiancé, the man she'd planned forever with, offered a chillingly serene smile. His aristocratic features, once the epitome of dashing charm, now held a cold, predatory gleam. "Such a pity, isn't it, darling?" he drawled, his voice a smooth, low rumble that once thrilled her, now curdled her blood. "All that promise… gone."
A wave of nausea hit Ava, her body screaming in protest. The drug – she knew it now. The same slow-acting poison that had taken Alexander, her brilliant, laughing twin. Her brother, who was supposed to live a life full of dreams and innovations. They'd given it to her too.
"Surprised?" Lila's laugh was a high-pitched titter, devoid of any genuine mirth. "Oh, sweet Ava. You were always so easy to manipulate. So trusting. Did you really think Julian would ever marry you? A Smith, yes, but the one no one cared about. The unwanted granddaughter."
Julian leaned closer, his breath hot on her face, reeking of expensive cologne and contempt. "Your father was always too preoccupied with appearances, and your grandfather… well, let's just say he had bigger fish to fry than his 'useless' older granddaughter. It was so easy for Victoria and Eleanor to paint you as the problem child, the social outcast. They handled the family, we handled the rest."
The words hit her like physical blows, each one a fresh stab to her already failing heart. Victoria and Eleanor. Her stepmother and stepsister. They had not only poisoned her family relationships but had also paved the way for these two vultures to feast on her life.
"Your little car crash?" Lila continued, her voice gaining a cruel edge. "Julian paid for it. A clean, efficient job. And the driver? Let's just say he won't be talking. We just wanted to make sure you had plenty of time to… reflect." She gestured around the room, a mocking queen surveying her dying subject. "Think of all those missed opportunities, all those relationships you squandered. Your mother, your brother… all because you were too busy chasing ghosts and living in a fantasy."
A blinding flash of realization surged through Ava, piercing through the fog of pain. Her mother. Her vibrant, loving mother, gone too soon in a tragic accident. It wasn't an accident. It was them. All of it was them. The isolation, the whispered rumors, the subtle manipulations that alienated her from her family, from her own mother, from Alexander. They had systematically dismantled her life, piece by agonizing piece.
Regret, sharp and unbearable, twisted in her gut. The countless arguments with her mother, the missed calls from Alexander, the withdrawn silence from her father and grandfather, all fueled by the insidious lies of Victoria and Eleanor. She had wasted so much precious time, lost so many opportunities for connection, for love. And for what? To be betrayed by the very people she'd considered her closest allies.
As her breath grew shallower, and the darkness began to creep in around the edges of her vision, a fierce, burning resolve ignited within her. It was a vow whispered not with her lips, but with every fiber of her being, a promise forged in the fires of betrayal and despair. If I get a second chance, she raged silently against the dying light, if I get another moment, I swear I will make them pay. Every single one. I will take back what was stolen, protect those I loved, and destroy everything they hold dear.
A jarring jolt. A gasp.
Ava's eyes flew open. Sunlight, warm and golden, streamed through a familiar window. The scent of lavender and old books, not antiseptic, filled her nostrils. She was in her childhood bedroom, the one she hadn't seen in years. Her breath came easily, deeply, her chest free of the crushing weight.
"Ava! Alexander! Get up, you two are going to be late for school!"
Her mother's voice. Strong, vibrant, alive. It sliced through the lingering haze of her nightmare, sending a shockwave through her entire body. Tears, hot and uncontrollable, welled in her eyes. It wasn't a nightmare. Not entirely.
Scrambling for her phone, her fingers fumbled, sticky with sweat. The screen glowed to life, displaying the date. June 28th, 2015.
Ten years. Ten years in the past. A week before her father was scheduled to send his driver to pick them up, the day her family's life, and her own, would irrevocably change. The day her relationship with her stepmother and stepsisters would truly begin to sour.
A manic energy surged through her. This was it. The second chance. The opportunity to rewrite her past, to reclaim her future. She flung herself out of bed, grabbing a worn notebook and a pen. Her mind raced, a torrent of memories and knowledge flooding her. She began to furiously jot down names, dates, crucial events, and critical turning points. The betrayals, the manipulations, the "accidents" – every detail of her past life, a roadmap for her revenge. She had to start by making a strong first impression on her father and grandfather, unlike her past life where her shyness and impressionability, manipulated by Victoria and Eleanor, had painted her as insignificant.
A soft knock echoed from the door. "Ava? You in there? Mom says get up or I'm coming in!" Alexander. His voice, playful and teasing, sent another wave of emotion through her.
She flung the door open, practically tackling him in a fierce hug. Alexander, startled, stumbled back. "Whoa! What's wrong with you? Did you hit your head?"
Before he could react further, her mother's footsteps pounded up the stairs. "What's all the commotion? Ava, honey, why are you crying?"
Ava just clung to Alexander tighter, burying her face in his shoulder. "I… I had a really, really bad dream," she mumbled, her voice thick with unshed tears. "You… you both died. It was awful."
Her mother's arms wrapped around both of them, a comforting, familiar embrace she hadn't felt in years. "Oh, sweetie," she murmured, stroking Ava's hair. "It's okay. It was just a dream. We're right here." Alexander, still a bit bewildered, patted her back awkwardly. They held her close until her sobs subsided, unaware of the profound weight of her dream, or the incredible truth of her reawakening.
A week later, the familiar sleek black car pulled up to their modest house. A tall, impeccably dressed man stepped out, his gaze sweeping over their humble abode with an air of barely concealed disdain. He was Mr. Davies, her stepmother's personal assistant, and in her past life, he had made her feel like dirt every time they interacted.
As he approached the door, his lips curled into a faint sneer. "This house is absolutely disgusting," he muttered, just loud enough for her to hear, his eyes already assessing the peeling paint on the porch. "I can't believe people actually live here."
Ava, standing beside Alexander on the porch, felt a spark ignite within her. In her past life, she would have shrunk back, humiliated. But not anymore. A strange, humming sensation resonated in her head, a soft echo of his thought.
Her gaze hardened, meeting his supercilious stare directly. "Excuse me?" she said, her voice clear and steady, astonishing even herself. "My house is not disgusting. My mother worked incredibly hard to make this a home, and you will show it the respect it deserves. Be careful what you say."
Suddenly, from inside the house, a porcelain vase on the hall table vibrated, then toppled over, shattering on the wooden floor with a resounding crash.
Mr. Davies jumped, his eyes wide with alarm. He looked around wildly, then back at Ava, his face a mixture of confusion and fear. "Did… did I say that out loud?" he stammered, his polished composure cracking.
Ava simply gave him a small, enigmatic smile. The humming sensation in her head intensified, and she realized something profound and exhilarating. She had heard his thought. Not his spoken words, but his thought. And the vase… she hadn't touched it, but she had been intensely focused on his disrespect, on wanting him to shut up.
As Mr. Davies continued to stammer excuses, a thrill unlike anything she'd ever known coursed through her. A second chance, yes. But also… a new power. She could read minds. And she could move things. The possibilities were endless. Her revenge just got a whole lot more interesting.
Her new game was just beginning. She had a school to change, a family to protect, and a long list of debts to collect. Beverly Hills High, the prestigious school her stepsisters attended, was about to get a new student. And Ava Smith, the girl they had tried to bury, was about to rise from the ashes.