LOGINFawn Jones doesn’t get a chance to resolve the issues with her marriage. No, she gets murdered in her own bathtub. Drowned by the husband she hated after he had moved his mistress into their bed, Fawn’s last lucid thought is a promise before death. "I will not stay weak. I will make you pay. If not in this life, then the next." Then she wakes up. Different room. Different body. Different life. Cassandra Huntington – rich, infamous, beautiful in a way Fawn never had been. Cassie had been in a coma for six months after a car crash. Her billionaire husband, Blake, had just signed the paperwork to turn off her life support when she suddenly started breathing on her own. Now everyone thinks Fawn is Cassandra. The media calls it a miracle. Blake calls it complicated. The woman wearing his wife’s face is softer, sharper, funnier… and so tempting he hates himself for wanting her. Fawn calls it an opportunity for revenge. Her killers are still out there. Her old body is in the ground under a lie. And the only weapons she has now are Cassandra’s money, Cassandra’s reputation… and Cassandra’s husband. So, she plays the role. Learns to walk in six-inch heels. Smiles for the cameras. Seduces a man who once couldn’t stand his wife and now can’t seem to stay away from her. While she quietly buys into the company that ruined her old life. While she gets close enough to the man who killed her to watch him crack. They drowned the wrong woman. Now she’s awake. And she’s not done.
View MoreMonday 5pm
I should have known the quiet was just too quiet. That stillness before something bad always carries its own stench, one your body can’t help but recognize even if your brain refuses to admit it. You know the feeling… the one like how animals go quiet just before they scurry away as a disaster hits. How their survival instinct kicks in to save the furry little buggers.
I’m feeling that right now, but instead of it sending me into a dark corner to hide until the feeling goes away, I settle back in the bath I’d run, letting the hot water lap around me, seeping into my pores and temporarily washing away my worries. And trust me, I have a few.
This was my one true vice. I loved a hot bath as often as possible. I’d added lavender oil to help with the headache that had been threatening all day. But nothing helped the sense of dread that had been creeping up my spine since arriving home.
My husband, Richard, had been unusually polite this afternoon; he was never polite anymore. And Gemma… Gemma hovered just outside my bedroom like a cat circling a mouse. She grinned, all sharp white teeth, like she’d been waiting her whole life for me to enter my room, ready to pounce.
How had I become this pathetic, weak creature that let my husband move his mistress into the master bedroom and me into the guest quarters? And treat me like shit. If we didn’t have staff, I’m sure they would have had me serving them like a housekeeper. I tried to keep out of their way as much as possible.
I closed my eyes, pretending not to notice how uneasy I was feeling. In that moment, I made two huge mistakes: one was arguing with the feeling of unease, and two was closing my eyes. I had just signed my own death warrant.
The first sign that I wasn’t alone anymore was the sound of movement at my back. The presence was dark, which sent a shiver of unease down my back jolting me upright. My eyes shot open and I snapped my head around to find Richard there, sleeves rolled, his tie gone. What worried me most was the sickly smile plastered on his face, and he wasn't alone, Gemma leaned over the edge of the tub on my left, her hands grabbing my arms and pinning them together with a force that surprised me. She was willowy thin but tall.
“Fawn, honey… relax. You’ve had such a stressful day,” Richard cooed, but his voice was laced with danger.
It was then I knew I was going to die.
He placed his hands on my shoulders before pushing me down, shoving my head under the water. I had no time to collect lifesaving air into my lungs.
So this was what my marriage had come to.
We had no prenup, and Richard wouldn’t divorce me because he was worried I would take half of everything he owned. I could see that murdering me was the easy solution in his eyes.
Relax. Was he joking? I was supposed to relax while he and Gemma tried to kill me.
My legs flailed, hitting water and bubbles, my movements restricted by their firm grips, none of it stopping them. I was short, soft, curvy… cute, maybe, but weak. Weak was exactly what they wanted. Weak was exactly what I was.
I should have left. I should have packed my things and moved out the day Richard moved Gemma in. My lovely parents would have welcomed me with open arms. Now it was too late for regrets.
I swallowed water. My lungs burned. Panic clawed up my throat. And somewhere in the fray, rage flared. It was sharp and hot. A wildfire I had never known I could feel.
For the first time in my miserable life, I didn’t want to please. I didn’t want to cry. I wanted… everything they had taken from me. My life. I wanted to live. I wanted to make him pay.
Richard leaned closer as I struggled to bring my face out of the water to take gulps of much-needed air. As I broke the surface, I was surprised by how calm his face was, like killing me was easy.
I thought he loved me in the beginning, but it was all lies. The only person Richard loved was himself. Did Gemma know she was just an accessory? She made him look good, but he didn’t love her.
“Struggle all you want. It won’t help. It’s time for you to drown in your bath.”
I felt Gemma press harder against my arms, pushing them deeper into the water, trying to drag me under. By holding my arms, she was stopping me from grabbing onto anything as Richard again pushed my shoulders down. I thrashed my legs, trying to fight, but I could feel myself slipping and knew I couldn’t get out of this.
I was going to die.
My vision blurred. All the pain I had felt over the last six months of my marriage to Richard blurred into betrayal and red-hot rage.
I remembered my life in flashes: the yeses I had said when I really meant no, the career I had given up, the humiliation I had swallowed, the chances I hadn’t taken.
I vowed, right there between gurgles and bubbles, that if I survived this, I would never be weak again.
I will not stay small. I will not stay invisible. I will stop living a pathetic, miserable life. I will not stay dead.
I thrashed, kicking my legs, trying to break Gemma’s hold so I could claw for the side of the tub. I fought against Richard and Gemma, but it did nothing. Water sloshed over the edge, soaking the floor. My arms shook as my lungs burned, screaming for air.
And yet… somewhere beneath the panic, the terror, and the certainty of death, something else stirred. A spark of something I had never felt before. Anger, yes. Power, yes. A dark, delicious taste of what it might be like to actually fight back.
Richard’s hand gripped my shoulder tighter. Gemma leaned closer, her bracelet clinking against the side of the tub. Clink, clink, as I fought her hold on me. If only I could free my hands.
I felt their confidence, their certainty that they would drown me. I hated them with every fiber of my being.
And I laughed, a choked, gurgling laugh that burned as it left my lips.
“Well, isn’t this… ironic,” I thought, panic and adrenaline mixing like fire in my veins. “I’m drowning, and I have never felt so… well, alive.”
I remembered every insult I’d swallowed, every time I’d bent, every humiliation. All of it came back, rolling over me in a nonstop wave.
If not in this life… then in the next. I will make sure they pay.
Richard’s voice cut through the water like a knife. “Fawn… it’s easier this way. Just… let go. Nobody wants you.”
Easier? For who? For them, maybe. But not easier for me. I wanted to live, no matter how horrible it had been. I wanted to see my parents again. Get a chance to make better choices.
I will make them pay for taking it away from me. This is what I fought for. That promise. They will pay. They will regret this for the rest of their lives. It set a fire in my belly and made me fight harder.
But the fight was all for nothing, water poured into my mouth, cold, suffocating, burning my throat. My lungs were on fire. My arms started to go weak. I thought I would black out—that this was it, my short, pathetic life ending with a splash and a laugh I wouldn’t hear.
And then… something changed within me.
A weight lifted. A pull. Not from the water, not even from the ceiling. It came from somewhere outside the room. Somewhere behind my eyes, inside my chest, something untethered as an invisible hook latched into me. Tugged. Gently at first, then firmer. It was not letting up.
I gasped in surprise, even as my lungs screamed for air. Something was pulling me up. Away. I tried to fight it. Tried to kick, thrash, claw myself back into the body I had known for twenty-four years.
But it was too strong. And I wasn’t afraid. Not really. Not now. Nothing was as terrifying as being drowned by my husband and his mistress.
What was happening? Am I going to hell? Am I going to heaven?
Was I… good enough to make it to heaven? Had I lived a life that deserved salvation and happiness inside the pearly gates?
Then, all of a sudden, I floated above my body, looking down, horrified. My hair was plastered to my skull, brown eyes wide, limbs limp. Gemma’s wicked grin. Richard’s calm, evil smile. They had done it. They had finally done it. I heard them, their voices distant and muffled.
I tried to scream, but no sound came. I tried to move, but my body didn’t answer. I was untethered, a soul in the void, hovering over my own death.
And then I remembered: my vow.
If they think this is the end, they are wrong. I will come back. I will make them pay. Or I will haunt them forever.
“Now let’s clean up the water. We need to make this look like an accident.” Richard’s voice sounded distant, almost like there was a wall between the real world and my soul. I saw Gemma grab for some towels.
But I got distracted when I felt the tug strengthen, pulling me further from the room, from where my body lay unmoving in the bath. Darkness closed in from every direction. I saw everything clearly one last time, taking in the scene, then everything started to fade away.
I will make them pay. Every last one of them. If it’s the last thing I do.
A weightless pull became a forceful yank, as if the universe itself had decided I belonged somewhere else. I resisted. I clawed at the nothingness. I willed myself to stay tethered, to stay alive. I needed to see, watch over my body.
But the darkness wasn’t patient. And it didn’t care about my needs or desires; it was insistent.
I whispered one last promise to the void… I will not be weak next time. I will not be forgotten. I will not stay small. Not for them. Not ever. I will make them pay. I will make them suffer. I will burn their lives to the ground and laugh while I do it.
And then finally… I let go.
One last thought flickered through me: where the hell is my frigging white light or tunnel everyone talks about? Maybe I was going to hell after all.
The world collapsed into a swirl of shadows and silence, then I was nothing. Yet I was everything. I was neither here nor there. And yet, the fire inside me burned brighter than it ever had in life.
I didn’t know if I would wake again. I didn’t know if I would see the sun, or water, or breathe in fresh air. But one thing I knew: they had awakened something in me. Something fierce, almost immortal, it refused to be forgotten and refused to die.
And somewhere, beyond the darkness, beyond the tug, beyond the silence… I felt the first spark of the life I would take back. The life I would claim, and the vengeance I would have.
I was alive.
And I would make them pay.
Then everything went black.
Blake's POVI closed the laptop and rubbed my eyes. Fawn Jones's face was burned into my retinas now, soft features, genuine smile, eyes that looked like they'd seen too much pain but chose kindness anyway.Nothing like Cassie.And yet... the kindness and care for others were a match for the woman Cassie was now.I checked my watch. Seven forty-five. I had a meeting at eight thirty that I couldn't miss, and I still needed to get moving if I was going to make it on time.Standing, I grabbed my briefcase and headed toward the kitchen, where Ana was already setting out coffee and what looked like a fresh fruit platter."You off to work then, Mr. Huntington?" she asked with her warm smile.I set my briefcase on the benchtop. "Just about to leave, Ana." I looked toward the stairs. "Mrs. Huntington still isn't down?""No, sir. I still haven't seen her."I nodded. She was either still sleeping or avoiding me. I was going to guess avoiding me."When she comes down, let her know I'll be home b
Blake's POV"I need you to dig deeper," I said. "Into Cassie's past. Education, everything you can find. I want to know if she ever studied languages, Japanese and German or if anyone knew she spoke other languages. And cross-reference it with what you can find on Fawn Jones. I want to know if there's any connection between them before their deaths. Did they cross paths… Same University?""Deaths?" Nathan's voice sharpened. "Cassie didn't die.""No. But she was supposed to. She was brain dead. The hospital said there was no hope. But then she woke up." I rubbed my face, exhaustion and confusion. I needed answers. "Just... look into it and Nathan? I need this kept quiet. No one else knows about this. I just need to understand what's going on because there has to be an explanation.""Got it, Boss. I'll have an update at least by tomorrow. But it could take longer.""I need you to check into the background of..." I leaned back in my chair. "Fawn Jones not just her connection to Cassie. D
Blake's POVThe silence in the car was starting to get to me. Cassie wasn't saying anything; she just sat beside me, her hands folded in her lap, staring out the window at the city sliding past. She looked calm, composed, like she hadn't just spoken fluent Japanese like it was a second language. She was acting like she hadn't just saved my business from ruin. I could have been okay without Takeshi's backing, but I would need nothing to go wrong. In my line of work things go wrong and projects get delayed. No one could control the weather.If Richard Jones was behind it, and I was one hundred percent sure that was the case, then he would have found a way to hurt production of the projects in some way. Maybe the supply chain. I could think of hundreds of ways to affect any given project. I think it was time I started looking into Richard Jones's businesses. I'd heard things in the past, but I hadn't involved myself. That was about to change. I had my own contacts there."What other lang
Fawn's POV"Your wife is already sick," I continued, switching to English so Blake could follow. "She's already suffering. But if these photographs come out, and they will come out, Mr. Nakamura, because men like this don't stop, she won't just be dealing with the betrayal. She'll be dealing with the public humiliation of finding out the same time the rest of the world does."Ren looked at me like I'd just said something unforgivable. "You want him to confess? To hurt her deliberately?""I want him to give her the truth before someone else takes that choice away from both of them." I met Takeshi's eyes, holding his gaze. "Tell her yourself. First. On your terms. Tell her you were lonely, that you made a mistake, that you're sorry. Tell her before the blackmailer can.""And if she leaves him?" Ren demanded. "If it destroys his marriage anyway? My aunt has been sick for a very long time. I worry as well...""Then at least she'll have been able to make that decision with all the informat
Fawn's POVBecause he dipped his head, closing that last inch between us, and his mouth found mine.The first kiss in the hospital had been different; all shock and adrenaline and pent-up everything. This one landed slower… but it hit just as hard.I made a small sound without meaning to, something
Fawn’s POVOf course it was psych time. We’d done the poking, the tapping, the lights-in-the-eyes; now they needed to make sure I wasn’t going to flip a table or start speaking in tongues. Fair, I guess. But who could blame me for being a little freaked out? I was a body snatcher.“As long as you’re
Fawn’s POVBy mid-morning, I’d learned three things.One: hospital gowns were designed by people who hated joy. I mean, who likes their ass on show? Unless you were a stripper, that is. I had never seen a stripper, but they did shake their bare asses in men’s faces from what I understand. It’s how t
Fawn’s POVI waited until the room cleared, until the last nurse checked my vitals and promised to be right back, before carefully swinging my legs over the side of the bed. My muscles responded with surprising strength. Yeah, I was a little shaky, but nothing like what six months of bed rest should
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