Killed by Them, Now I'm Her to Pay Back

Claire

The steering wheel was slick with sweat as I navigated the winding mountain road.

I'd forgotten to give Macy her scarf—expensive cashmere. The kind of thoughtful gift that had defined our friendship for three years.

God, I was such an idiot.

The mountain road curved sharp ahead. I hit the brakes. Nothing. The pedal went straight to the floor with a sickening thud.

"Shit, shit, SHIT!"

My Porsche shot down the steep incline like a missile. The guardrail rushed past in silver streaks.

I yanked the wheel left, then right, but physics had already claimed me. The car punched through the barrier like it was made of tissue paper.

As we tumbled through empty air, I caught a glimpse of something that froze my blood—brake lines hanging loose under the dashboard.

Cut clean. Professional work.

But Austin had checked my brakes just yesterday. Said everything looked perfect.

FUCK!!!

The impact came in waves. Metal crushed inward. Blood filled my mouth, warm and metallic. My vision darkened around the edges.

'Austin did this.'

The thought echoed in my dying mind as consciousness slipped away.

I should've stayed dead.

Instead, I found myself floating above my own mansion like some cosmic joke.

The colonial-style house looked exactly the same. Except now I was dead.

And apparently, the afterlife came with front-row seats to my own personal hell.

I drifted through the front door—because locked doors meant nothing when you were incorporeal—and followed voices toward my bedroom.

Our bedroom. The master suite I'd shared with Austin for two years of marriage.

The door was cracked open. What I saw inside made me want to die all over again.

Macy's naked body writhed beneath my husband on the sheets. Her red hair—the same shade I'd always envied—spread across my pillows like spilled wine.

Austin's hands roamed her pale skin with desperate hunger he'd never shown me. Not even on our honeymoon.

"The brake job was clean," he panted between thrusts. "Cops'll rule it accidental. No questions asked."

Macy arched beneath him, breathless and cruel. "Thank fucking God. I was getting so tired of playing the grateful little charity case. Do you know how disgusting it was? Letting that bitch think she was saving me?"

My throat would've closed if I'd still had one.

Three years. Three years of believing Macy was my closest friend. The struggling art student I'd rescued from poverty and put through college.

Three years of her sleeping in my guest room, eating my food, wearing my clothes. Planning my murder.

"The insurance payout alone is two million," Austin continued, his movements becoming urgent. "Plus the house, the stocks, everything. We'll be set for life."

"Better than set." Macy's laugh was sharp as broken glass. "Claire was always such a bleeding-heart control freak. Made it so easy to manipulate her.

'Oh, Macy needs help with tuition!' 'Oh, Macy's family is broke!' What a pathetic, gullible cow."

Rage filled what remained of my soul. I lunged toward them, desperate to wrap my ghostly hands around their lying throats.

However, I passed right through them.

"MURDERERS!" I screamed, but no sound came out. They couldn't see me. Couldn't hear me. Couldn't feel the hurricane of hatred I was broadcasting at maximum volume.

I was nothing. Less than nothing.

But then something impossible happened.

Brilliant white light erupted from the top of Macy's head. So bright it would've blinded me if I'd still had functioning retinas.

The light pulled at me with the force of a black hole, dragging my consciousness toward my betrayer's skull.

"No!" I fought against the pull, clawing at empty air. "I won't be trapped in that bitch's body! I WON'T!"

The suction intensified. I felt myself being compressed, folded, shoved through a space far too small for a human soul.

Pain beyond description tore through my essence as I was forced into Macy's living flesh. Squeezed into the spaces between her thoughts and memories.

Everything went black.

I woke up to the worst possible scenario. Austin's face inches from mine, his breath hot against my skin as he moved above me with practiced rhythm.

'Oh God, oh God, OH GOD.'

My stomach lurched violently. I shoved him away with both hands, scrambling backward until I hit the headboard.

Every inch of skin he'd touched felt contaminated.

"What the hell?" Austin's face twisted with confusion and irritation. "Macy, what's wrong with you? Last night you couldn't get enough, and now you're playing shy?"

'Macy.' He'd called me Macy.

I looked down at my hands. Slender, pale, with chipped black nail polish I'd never have worn.

My body felt wrong. Foreign. Like wearing clothes that belonged to someone else. Smaller breasts, different curves, skin that smelled faintly of vanilla perfume.

I was inside her. Inside my murderer's body.

"Don't fucking touch me," I managed.

My voice came out in Macy's British accent instead of my own. The words felt thick and strange on my tongue.

Austin's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Since when do you have a problem with me touching you? You've been begging for it for months."

He reached toward me again. I flinched so hard I nearly fell off the bed.

The irony was suffocating. I was trapped in the body of the woman who'd conspired to kill me. About to be groped by my murderous husband.

If there was a God, He had one sick sense of humor.

"I said don't touch me!" I snarled, channeling every ounce of executive authority I'd ever possessed. "Get your hands off me, you piece of shit!"

Austin jerked back like I'd slapped him. His face went from confused to angry in seconds. "What the fuck is wrong with you today? You're acting like a completely different person."

'If only you knew.'

I needed to think. Fast.

How long had they been planning this? How long had Macy been sleeping with my husband behind my back? The betrayal cut deeper than the actual murder.

At least Austin had married me for money—I'd always suspected that. But Macy? I'd genuinely loved her like a sister.

"Maybe I am a different person," I said carefully, testing how much I could get away with. "Maybe I'm tired of being your dirty little secret."

That seemed to calm him down.

He sat back on his heels, running a hand through his dark hair. "Baby, you know it's not like that. We just had to wait for the right moment. Now that Claire's gone..."

Hearing him say my name so casually made my skin crawl. Like I was already forgotten. Just an obstacle they'd removed.

"How long?" I asked. "How long have you two been planning this?"

Austin's smile was cold and satisfied. "Six months of planning. But we've been together for over a year. You played your part perfectly, Macy. She never suspected a thing."

A year. They'd been laughing at me for a year.

But they'd made one crucial mistake. They'd killed the wrong woman if they thought death would stop me from getting my revenge.

I was going to destroy them both. From the inside out.