Chapter 1

My sister called, battered and bruised, begging for help. Protecting her, I accidentally killed her husband. But in court, she refused to testify for me.

She blamed me for taking Leo's father away.

Mom and Dad joined in, accusing me of ruining Brooke’s life.

I was convicted of manslaughter and sentenced to ten years in prison.

They tormented me day and night, until I died of depression behind bars.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the moment Brooke called for help…

“Cassidy, save me!” Brooke’s heartbroken scream tore through the phone, a wild, beast-like roar echoing behind her.

“I’ll kill you! I’ll absolutely kill you!” Julian’s enraged voice mixed with Brooke’s pleas, followed by a series of brutal thuds against a door.

One, two…

I froze. This scene, I’d lived through it before!

And it was just six months before I died.

I took a deep breath, my mind reeling back to that night.

Six months ago, Julian had come home dead drunk. Brooke had simply asked where he’d been, and he’d grabbed her, slapping her a dozen times.

She’d cried, begging for mercy, but he wouldn’t let up. He’d sworn she dared to meddle in his business and that he was going to kill her that night.

She’d shrieked, fleeing into the bathroom, locking herself inside, and risking everything to call me, her voice trembling.

When I’d arrived, I was greeted by a scene from hell, unlike anything I’d ever witnessed:

Julian stood amidst shattered glass and broken things, a cleaver raised in his hand, furiously hacking at the bathroom door.

One, two… His eyes were bloodshot, like a wild animal's, roaring that he’d smash the door down and hack Brooke to death.

Brooke’s cries, Julian’s roars, the brutal thuds of the cleaver against the door, the hissing, spitting sound of something boiling over on the stove… All sounds mashed together, instantly igniting something primal in me.

No! He couldn't kill my sister! My first instinct was to charge, to wrench the knife from his grasp. I didn't even stop to consider if I'd become another casualty in his rampage.

I’d never felt death so close. I stared into those bloodshot eyes, the eyes of a grim reaper. He held the knife in an iron grip, and I desperately clung to his wrist, fighting to stop him from bringing it down.

Blood began to drip, drop by agonizing drop. My strength was draining away, little by little.

And my *dear* sister? She stayed locked behind that bathroom door, utterly still.

I don’t remember what happened next. When I regained consciousness, Julian was lying in a pool of blood, and Brooke was crying, shaking him.

Then, the piercing wail of ambulances and the blare of police sirens filled the air. One phrase echoed relentlessly in my mind:

“It was her! *She* did it! She killed my husband! Arrest this murderer!”

Just then, Brooke wailed again:

“Cassidy, hurry, save me! He’s gone crazy!”

Cassidy? She still knew my name. But when she’d been 'grieving' her precious husband, she hadn’t called me that.

She’d not only screamed "murderer" at the police, demanding I pay for murder with my life.

She’d also adamantly refused to testify for me in court. Her reasoning? She argued that the charge wasn't severe enough. Manslaughter? No, she insisted it should be premeditated murder. Because if it was only manslaughter, the chance of me getting the death penalty would be far too low.

Even after I was sentenced to ten years, she’d visited me in prison, staring at me coldly, asking how I dared to still be alive.

“You monster! Do you have any idea what you’ve done? You made me a widow! You took Leo’s father away!

How dare you only get ten years? Is this what our tax dollars are for? To keep *you* alive?

You’re depressed? Will your depression bring my husband back? What will you give to atone for this? You murderer! Murderer!”

I’d heard those words countless times in prison.

“Cassidy, why aren’t you saying anything? Cassidy?”

I took a deep breath. From start to finish, she was only desperate for me to rescue *her*.

But she’d never once considered if *I* might be killed by him. Nor had she ever suggested I call the police to arrest her husband.

She just wanted me to 'make peace,' so she could reconcile with Julian, *after* he’d had his fill of hitting her, and go back to her 'happy' life.

How could I have been so blind to such selfish thoughts in my previous life?

But this time, I wouldn't interfere with her "happiness" ever again.