My first life ended in the icy, unforgiving grasp of the Hudson River. The memory of the dark water choking me, burning my lungs, was as real as the silk sheets I lay on now. Ethan' s voice, a blade to my soul, still pierced me: "You deserve it, Ava, for stealing Chloe' s life." Noah, the kind cousin who, despite his weak heart, desperately tried to save me, struggled and disappeared beneath the waves alongside me. Then, miraculously, I gasped awake in my opulent SoHo bedroom, sunlight warming my face, a stark contrast to the cold dread that now gripped me. My phone buzzed with a reminder: "Lunch with Ethan, 1PM." Panic surged – it was today. The very day Chloe Jenkins, a deluded scholarship student, had convinced my fiancé, Ethan, that she was the real Miller heiress, leading him to betray me. The brutal memories weren' t a dream; they were a chilling premonition, every detail of my impending kidnapping and murder replaying in vivid terror. How could the man I was to marry so easily believe such an insane lie, so readily trade me for a perceived better option? His betrayal had been a fresh wound even in my last moments, and now it was a ghost haunting my every breath. Ava Miller, the Miller heiress, was alive, but the exact script of my agonizing death was already written, the cruel actors in place, their roles meticulously cast. I remembered Chloe' s smug face at the desolate pier, just before she snatched my phone, relishing the thought of me begging for my life. But this time, I wouldn' t repeat the past. I wouldn't call Ethan. My trembling fingers scrolled past his name, reaching instead for Jackson, my fiercely protective brother and the CEO of the Miller empire. Then, a cryptic text to Noah Williams, the gentle soul who died trying to save me. This time, I would rewrite the ending.
My first life ended in the icy, unforgiving grasp of the Hudson River.
The memory of the dark water choking me, burning my lungs, was as real as the silk sheets I lay on now.
Ethan' s voice, a blade to my soul, still pierced me: "You deserve it, Ava, for stealing Chloe' s life."
Noah, the kind cousin who, despite his weak heart, desperately tried to save me, struggled and disappeared beneath the waves alongside me.
Then, miraculously, I gasped awake in my opulent SoHo bedroom, sunlight warming my face, a stark contrast to the cold dread that now gripped me.
My phone buzzed with a reminder: "Lunch with Ethan, 1PM."
Panic surged – it was today.
The very day Chloe Jenkins, a deluded scholarship student, had convinced my fiancé, Ethan, that she was the real Miller heiress, leading him to betray me.
The brutal memories weren' t a dream; they were a chilling premonition, every detail of my impending kidnapping and murder replaying in vivid terror.
How could the man I was to marry so easily believe such an insane lie, so readily trade me for a perceived better option?
His betrayal had been a fresh wound even in my last moments, and now it was a ghost haunting my every breath.
Ava Miller, the Miller heiress, was alive, but the exact script of my agonizing death was already written, the cruel actors in place, their roles meticulously cast.
I remembered Chloe' s smug face at the desolate pier, just before she snatched my phone, relishing the thought of me begging for my life.
But this time, I wouldn' t repeat the past.
I wouldn't call Ethan.
My trembling fingers scrolled past his name, reaching instead for Jackson, my fiercely protective brother and the CEO of the Miller empire.
Then, a cryptic text to Noah Williams, the gentle soul who died trying to save me.
This time, I would rewrite the ending.
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