Chapter 1
I woke up on the same morning I was about to send another payment for my daughter's education.
In my last life, I paid for everything. Every year, without missing a payment.
Tuition. AP tutoring. Summer program deposits. Medical bills. Birthday gifts. The education fund.
Not one payment late. Not one skipped.
I only found out the truth after I died. My daughter wore a blazer that hung off her like a hand-me-down. She glued her shoes back together instead of throwing them out. She got mocked in front of her whole class for owing a two-thousand-dollar activity fee she should never have had to worry about.
She hated me for it.
She said, "You say you love me. So why was there never any money for me?"
I understood the truth only when it was too late to matter. It was never that I hadn't given enough.
It was that my husband had been siphoning it out from under me the whole time, spending it on another woman's family.
This time, I didn't wait to find out.
"Honey, it's time to pay for Nora's tuition for the second half of the year, plus her AP tutoring and the deposit for her Ivy League summer program. Just wire five million to my account and I'll take care of everything."
My husband Daniel Whitmore's voice came through the phone, warm and gentle as always.
I stared at the fingerprint verification screen on my phone, the "Confirm Transfer" button glowing under my thumb. My blood went cold, like it had turned to ice in my veins.
One second ago, I'd been lying in the ICU, watching Daniel pull out my oxygen tube. Watching him take Bianca Reyes's hand and laugh about how everything I'd bled for was finally theirs. My daughter, Nora Whitmore, had been dead for a year by then — sent to an illegal "internet addiction" boot camp under the excuse of depression, and worked to death there.
Now, one second later, I was five years in the past. Nora was fifteen, just starting tenth grade at her international school.
That five-million "education fund" was where the whole tragedy began.
"Honey? Are you there?" Daniel waited a beat too long, then let a note of hurt creep into his voice. "I know you're busy with that merger, but our daughter's education can't wait. I've been a stay-at-home dad for years now — when have I ever not handled things for Nora?"
I closed my eyes and took a slow breath. When I opened them again, there was nothing left inside but a flat, dead calm.
"Got it," I said, my tone even. "Bad signal on my end. I'll deal with it later."
I hung up and, without hesitating, called the private banking line straight away.
"This is Vivian Hale. I need both supplementary cards under my name cancelled. Right now."
The account manager paused. "Ms. Hale, those are the cards Mr. Whitmore has been using. If we cancel them—"
"It's not just the cards." I cut him off, speaking fast and clear. "Remove every family payment authorization linked to my primary card. And reset the door code on the penthouse under my name. Take Daniel's fingerprint out of the system too."
"Understood, Ms. Hale. I'll process it now."
Five minutes later, my phone buzzed nonstop. Messages from the bank confirmed everything — unlinked, cancelled, done.
I looked at those cold, flat words on the screen and felt the corner of my mouth curl into something close to a smile.
In my last life, I always believed I owed this family something. When Daniel offered to quit his job and stay home with Nora, I was so grateful I handed him control of every cent. I thought he was building our daughter a bright future. It wasn't until after I died that I saw the truth — my money had bought Bianca Reyes a Porsche and paid for her brother's wedding apartment.
Meanwhile my daughter wore a school uniform pilled thin from washing, and her classmates at that elite school called her a fake heiress behind her back.
My phone rang again, buzzing hard against the desk. Daniel.
"Vivian! What is going on? I was just at the grocery store buying seafood and my card got declined — it said the supplementary card was cancelled! Do you have any idea how humiliating that was?" His voice was sharp with barely contained fury.
"Oh. The card must have expired," I said, leaning back in my chair, turning a pen between my fingers.
"What about the five million? The school's been chasing us for payment! There's a lot more coming due too."
"What's the rush?" I was looking at his spending history from the past three years, pulled up on my monitor. My eyes went colder with every line. "The money's going straight to Nora. I'll deliver it myself."
I didn't give him the chance to say anything else. I ended the call, grabbed my keys, and walked out of the office.
He'd been careful enough keeping track of every cent he stole from our daughter. Now it was my turn to go through the books.
I drove to Nora's international school. The hallway was lined with rows of red American-style lockers on both sides. I arrived right in the middle of lunch break. Students in tailored uniforms clustered in twos and threes, Starbucks cups in hand, talking about someone's yacht party that weekend.
At the far end of the hall, in the corner, I found my daughter.
Nora was hunched over, working glue into the sole of a pair of white sneakers that had come apart at the seam. Her uniform blazer, which should have fit her, hung loose off her shoulders. There was a stain on the cuff that hadn't come out in the wash.
A few girls in heavy makeup walked by and kicked over the shoebox sitting at her feet — on purpose.
"Oh, sorry, Nora," the one leading the group said, hand over her mouth, laughing. "Still wearing those knockoffs? Didn't you say your mom's some big-shot at an investment bank, making millions a year? How can you not scrape together two thousand for the cheer squad training fee?"
Nora bit down on her lip. Her eyes went red, but she held the tears back through sheer stubbornness. "My dad said my mom's company is having cash flow issues right now. He told me to be understanding and not bother her over small stuff like this..."
"That's hilarious. Your dad doesn't work — what would he know? I bet your mom just doesn't want you."
I was standing ten steps away. It felt like something invisible had reached into my chest and crushed my heart in its fist.
