**Trigger Warning - Graphic violence in the first section**

"Tim, why?" I choked out the words, my vision blurring as a searing pain shot through my side. I staggered, trying to support myself, but my legs felt like jelly. Tim's left hand shot out to grasp my shoulder, his nails digging into my flesh. The ring on his finger, the one I had given him three years ago, was all I could focus on. It seemed to mock me, a symbol of the love that now felt so twisted. The pain was overwhelming, forcing me to arch my back in a futile attempt to escape the sensation. I struggled to focus through the haze of pain, my gaze finally meeting Tim's across the space separating us. His brown eyes stared back at me, holding an icy emptiness that chilled me to the bone.

"You've outlived your usefulness to me, Nicole. It's time for me to move on," Tim explained, his eyes fixed on mine. His voice lacked the warmth that our five-year relationship should have fostered, as if it had become inconsequential.

"Are you insane?" The words, tinged with a desperation born of fear, escaped my lips. I never spoke that way to Tim because he would get too angry. Perhaps it was the blood loss affecting my judgment. His lips tightened, the muscles in his jaw working visibly as he struggled to control his reaction, retracting both hands from their positions against my body. Before he could say anything, I collapsed to my knees, my hands instinctively going to my side. Blood soaked my fingers, but I couldn't bring myself to look at the wound. The pain, a blinding white-hot agony, cleared the haze of confusion, sharpening my understanding of his intentions: my family's wealth.

After my parents' untimely passing last year, I inherited their vast estate. As the sole heir, I was confronted with the daunting task of managing their legacy. I turned to Tim, my trusted husband and advisor, to help with the practical aspects of the estate. Yet, a curious restriction in my parents' trust prevented anyone outside my grandfather's direct lineage from inheriting the family business, suggesting my parents may have had unspoken reservations about Tim's intentions.

"You'll never get away with this. You can't just kill me and take over the company," I managed to say, feeling my life slipping away. I wanted to scream for help, but the cabin's isolation guaranteed no one would hear. The idea of retreating to this secluded cabin had seemed so romantic, a way to distract me from my parent's death anniversary. How had I gotten everything so wrong?

"Oh, but that's exactly what I'm doing. Your cousin will give me more control than you ever did. She's content with being a figurehead," Tim said, kneeling and propping me against the old sofa.

"Lisa? Are you and Lisa..." I couldn't find the words to finish my sentence.

"We were together long before you and I met. Much of this was her idea. She wanted to be here, but having an alibi was better for her. She's with her parents on the coast, far away from here." His touch on my face almost seemed gentle. "I don't hate you, Nicole. In fact, I prefer you over Lisa, but you're too stubborn."

My eyelids grew heavy. His words sent shivers down my spine. Who was this man I had married? How had he concealed his true self so thoroughly? I rested my head on the sofa, and the knife slid from my flesh, relieving some of the pain. A burning smell reached my nostrils, and liquid saturated my hair and clothing. Before my stomach could churn out the contents of our breakfast, I let the darkness take over, giving in to the inevitable.

***

As I gradually woke up from what felt like a deep sleep, I sensed a cold, unyielding metal surface pressing against my back. I knew something had happened to me, but I couldn't remember what. Slowly, the events of the cabin filtered into my mind, and I suppressed a shiver of fear. I should have been in agony, but I felt nothing. Maybe my burns were so severe that I had lost all sensation.

After a few moments, I mustered the courage to open my eyes. Everything around me was gray and empty. My eyes adjusted to the dim light, and I noticed a woman standing before me, typing away on a tablet. She appeared to be in her mid-forties and wore glasses that concealed her eyes. Her blonde hair was tied in a playful ponytail, contrasting with her severe appearance.

I sat up, my mind reeling with confusion and disbelief. How could I be alive? Instinctively, I reached for my wound, but to my surprise, it was gone. No pain, no blood, and the golden skin on the back of my arms showed no signs of being charred. It was as if nothing had ever happened. I looked around, trying to make sense of my surroundings.

"Who are you?" I asked the woman, feeling confused and disoriented. The woman stopped typing and looked at me with surprise.

"You shouldn't be awake. Your story hasn't started yet," she replied, her voice tinged with annoyance.

"Where am I? How did you save me?" I lifted my arms, and the loose cotton fell back, revealing more unblemished skin.

"Do you remember dying?" she inquired.

"Yes, but..." I couldn't fathom being dead, especially while conversing with a woman wearing business attire covered by a loose sweater.

"I'm sorry about that. There seems to have been a mistake. Something went wrong," she muttered, tapping her tablet. "Ah, the reader is unsatisfied with your ending. We'll have to send you back to the beginning."

"Send me back? What do you mean?" My heart pounded at the thought of staring at Tim's evil eyes again.

"The reader is displeased. So, we need you to please try again," she explained, a smile forming as she pressed buttons on a panel next to the bed.

"Try again? I don't understand." Was I going to have to fight Tim? How could I? He was so much stronger than me.

"You'll start from the beginning, but this time, you'll retain your memories to avoid making the same mistakes," she clarified, reopening her tablet and resuming typing. Drowsiness washed over me, and I could no longer question her.

***

My eyes fluttered open again, but this time, I was greeted by a blurry tan face with piercing blue eyes.

"Miss, are you alright?" the man asked. I felt damp. Why was I wet? "Can you get up?"

"Yes, I think so." I pushed up with my arms behind me, and the handsome man helped me stand and guided me to a deck chair. My shoulder leaned heavily against his sopping-wet dress shirt, allowing me to feel the layer of muscles beneath it before I realized I wasn't in the cabin or a void but in a hotel garden next to a pool. The place seemed vaguely familiar, and I struggled to recall why.

"I was worried there for a minute. I almost left to get help, but you're awake now," he said as he eased me down onto the cushioned wooden lounger. "What happened?"

"I don't know," I answered automatically, then I looked around a bit more and realized where we were. This had been my favorite hotel; Tim's family owned it, and it was where we had met. Two years later, we had held our wedding here. But I was wearing jeans and a sweater, not an elaborate Vera Wang dress. "No, I remember, my cousin and I were walking, and I tripped and fell in." The memory of that day rushed back to me, but it now held an entirely different meaning. "I can't swim anymore, but where did my cousin go?"

"Any more?" The man muttered, but not loud enough to be a genuine question. Then, he shook his head and looked around. "Is your cousin male or female?"

"A woman, her name is Lisa. Did you see her?" As the strange woman suggested, I must have actually traveled back in time. However, things seemed different. The blue-eyed man wasn't there the first time. Tim's chocolate brown eyes met mine instead.

"No, oh, is that her over there?" The man pointed behind me, and I turned to see Lisa pulling Tim towards the pool. I felt the man tense behind me, but I couldn't tear my gaze away from Tim's angry face. Then, when he saw me staring, his face softened into his salesman smile until his eyes widened as he glanced behind me. Merciless fear gripped my heart as my murderer approached. With each of his steps, I unconsciously shifted back, pressing against my savior's chest. Instead of pushing me away, the man wrapped a dry towel around my front and allowed me to lean against his chest.

"Yes," I whispered, shivering into the towel, not just from the cold mid-winter air blowing against my wet clothing.

"Nicky, oh, thank God you're alright." Lisa rushed towards me as soon as she was within range, and I tried to raise my arm to defend myself from her embrace, but it caught on the tight towel. A strong arm encircled me and pulled me away from Lisa's advance.

"The young lady is very wet. It is probably best we get her inside to dry off," my savior advised, his low voice rumbling through his chest and into mine.

"Oh, right." Lisa stopped mid-movement, then awkwardly stood straight and clasped her hands together. "Maybe this gentleman can help carry her inside." Her hand waved toward Tim in an attempt to recover. When I failed to move, she began talking nervously again. "I rushed off to find someone when you fell in, Nicky. You know I can't swim, and I found Mr. Lamb here."

"There is no need for two of us to get wet. I can bring her to the changing room. Can you collect some dry clothes for her?" The man who saved me effortlessly lifted me into his arms, the abruptness of the gesture silencing any protest I might have had.

"Oh, of course, um, but Mr. Lamb can help."

"I've got it," he assured Lisa without glancing at Tim.

Caught off guard, Lisa stammered incoherently, trying to say something, while my savior's protective embrace gave me a sense of safety. My heart raced, and my body trembled, but I felt secure with him. As we walked away from Lisa and Tim, I noticed Tim remained unusually silent. He usually talked excessively and craved attention but didn't utter a word the entire time. Maybe he realized that Lisa had attempted to harm me, which wasn't his intention. Or perhaps it was that his plot to rescue me and become a hero had failed. Tim would get angry whenever any plan went awry, and silence could be a sign of the depth of his fury. The absence of his voice, for whatever reason, brought immense relief to me. At that moment, I couldn't bear hearing him speak.

"Thank you," I breathed as the man set me in front of the women's dressing room. The welcome warmth of the space began to reinvigorate my mind, and I started to think about how different this outcome was from my previous life.

I almost drowned that day. Lisa and I had been shopping and stopped by the hotel for a quick lunch. She wanted to walk around the pool before heading home, and I hadn't thought much of it. But then, somehow, I lost my balance near the deeper edge of the pool and fell in. Immediately, my panic overwhelmed me, and from there, I didn't remember more than vague impressions of drowning until someone rescued me. I returned to consciousness in Tim's arms, but his clothes weren't wet. At the time, I hadn't thought of it, but with my savior's wet clothes clinging to every curve of his body, I realized how odd Tim it was that had been dry. Had this man saved me in my previous life but left to find help before I woke up? Was the only difference this time that I woke up in his arms?

"You're welcome," he answered, with a slight smile that turned into a frown as he looked out the glass entrance windows. "May I give you a word of advice?"

"Of course," I answered, following his eyes to watch Lisa rush away from Tim, whose dusky complexion had flushed slightly red.

"If I were you, I would stay away from Tim Lamb," his voice lowered to almost a growl.

"Oh, I plan to," I assured him, touching the door behind me. Before entering the dressing room, I realized I didn't know this man's name. "Sorry, I should have asked for your name to thank you properly."

I took a moment to examine his square jaw and prominent brows as I awaited his response; he was really quite attractive. His face was vaguely familiar, but the context was all wrong, and I couldn't recall who he was.

"Robert," he replied with a seductive half-smile. "Robert Lamb, and you?"

The name hit me like a wall: Robert Lamb, Tim's uncle and the heir to the Lamb family fortune. He must have just returned from New York. But in my previous life, I had never had the chance to meet Robert Lamb before he died in a car crash.

"Nicole Mason," I answered, racking my brain for a way to prevent my savior's death.

"Well, Ms. Mason, it has been interesting, but I need to head back to the airport. I should dry off and change as well."

The word 'airport' triggered something in my brain, and the memory flooded back.

A year after I started dating Tim, we were having dinner at his house, and his mother had brought up Robert. When she spoke about him, her face dropped in genuine sadness.

"He went to the airport to pick up Dad, and the truck came out of nowhere. The driver swerved to avoid a collision, but Robbie's car tumbled off the freeway onto an underpass. No one survived." Tears filled her eyes, but I didn't recall any emotion in Tim. "I don't think you had even met Tim yet."

"It was the day we met," Tim corrected.

"Oh, how ironic—one of the best things on the same day as one of the worst." Lydia smiled at me. She had always been so kind to me, but maybe she didn't know what type of man she had raised.

"Yes," Tim's curt answer had struck me as strange then. I didn't know how to take it. But, with a new perspective, I realized Tim must have thought both were fortuitous events. Most likely, he had engineered both of them to occur.

"Um, could I trouble you to take me with you?" I reached out my hand to stop Robert from walking away.

"To the airport?" Robert turned back to me, his voice filled with genuine surprise.

"Um, yes, um, I have a friend flying out today," I lied. I didn't know how to cover up the lie, but I hoped he wouldn't question me further.

"Really?" Robert raised an eyebrow but didn't wait for my response. "Well, I guess I could wait. I'll meet you in the lobby. I have to leave by four, so please don't take too long." His tone seemed off, but I couldn't quite place it. It was almost a suppressed happiness, but why would he be happy about taking me to the airport?

"Okay, I'll see you then." I blurted out and pushed him away as Lisa walked in with dry clothes.

"See him when?" Lisa looked curiously after Robert; my stomach clenched. I had hoped she wouldn't overhear. "Who is he?"

"Robert Lamb," I answered her last question.

"Oh, Tim's uncle," Lisa said, looking at him with interest. "He's even more handsome than I had heard."

"Who's Tim?" I asked. Although Robert mentioned his name, Lisa never said it when she introduced him to me.

"Oh, that's the man I brought to rescue you, Tim Lamb. Um, he must have come here to see his uncle."

"Why would he come here to see his uncle?" I probed.

"Robert Lamb, Tim's uncle, owns this hotel," Lisa answered with a predatory smile.

Lisa always had a knack for finding men with money. I used to find it charming, but really, it was a sign of her calculating nature. With my newfound understanding, I could almost see the numbers spinning in her head as she considered shifting her focus from Tim to his wealthy uncle. Robert Lamb had more money and was set to inherit the Lamb chain of hotels and the rest of the Lamb empire. In my previous life, she couldn't pursue him because he died, but I was determined to save him.

Well, if she pursued him, maybe I would, too. It would be satisfying to outsmart Lisa. After all, she had helped plan my death. It would surely anger Tim to have both Mason girls fixated on his biggest rival. It would be a two-for-one deal—I could beat Lisa at her own game and upset Tim. And maybe this time, I would survive them both.

But was survival enough? I thought about the knife in my stomach and shivered. No, it wouldn't be. I needed revenge, and saving Robert Lamb seemed the perfect place to start.

WC2868