Rain poured heavily over the small gray house, tucked away on the edge of the village. Inside, silence weighed like a stone, broken only by the muffled sobs of a woman curled up against a cold wall.
Jassy.
Her face was bruised, her lips cracked, her arms covered in blue and purple marks. A scene all too familiar, repeated too many times. That night, Maël had come home drunk—like so many other nights. But this time, he had been more violent. Crueler. He had thrown his plate to the floor, shouted that she was a dead weight, a disgrace. Then he hit her. Again.
And his mother, the dreadful Marlène, had watched in silence. Worse: she had smiled.
— "You asked for it," she said while picking up the broken pieces. "A woman should know when to shut up when her husband speaks."
Jassy had endured it all. The insults, the beatings, the humiliation. Because she hoped that one day Maël would change. Because she had nowhere else to go. Because she believed that love meant enduring everything.
But that night, she understood. He would never change. They would never change.
And she was going to die in that house — forgotten, hated, broken.
Later that night, her breathing grew shallow. Her chest tightened, and the taste of iron filled her mouth. Was it the poison Marlène had slipped into her soup, claiming she "cost too much to feed"? Or simply her heart, finally giving out?
She collapsed to the floor, her eyes vacant, her tears frozen on her cheeks.
Darkness swallowed her.
---
Darkness… then light.
A strange feeling. As if she were floating between two worlds.
Then… a jolt.
A scream.
Voices around her. The scent of antiseptic, the steady beep of a heart monitor. She opened her eyes suddenly.
But it was no longer her. It wasn't her body.
Her hands were slender, manicured. Her reflection in the mirror revealed a pale, elegant face, with piercing eyes and shiny brown hair. It wasn't her. And yet… she felt everything. She knew.
Her name now was Alys Delcourt. A powerful heiress, recently the victim of a mysterious car crash. But she—Jassy—was inside. Alive.
And this time, she would never be a victim again.
---
Her body felt unfamiliar—taller, stronger, refined. A nurse entered the room, visibly shocked to see her awake.
— "Miss Delcourt! You're awake… We thought… well… You've been in a coma for six days."
Jassy didn't respond right away. Six days? She looked again at her hands, then at the hospital bracelet: Alys Delcourt. Fragments of memory bubbled up—blurred images, screeching tires, a crash, someone screaming… Someone had tried to kill this woman. Just like she had been killed by those she once trusted.
Was it fate? Karma? A second chance? She didn't know. But one thing was certain: she hadn't come back by accident.
As she slowly sat up in the hospital bed, something shifted deep inside her. She was no longer the submissive, broken girl who begged for crumbs of affection. She had been reborn. And this time, she wouldn't cry. She wouldn't forgive. They had taken everything from her—her dignity, her youth, her life. Now it was her turn to take everything from them.
With her new face, her new name, and a social status she never dreamed of, Jassy — now Alys — was going to return to their world.
And they wouldn't even see her coming.