Chapter 2

Inside a high-end hospital room. A young girl lay unconscious on the bed. Her brows were tightly knit, her pale, delicate face clouded with pain. A thin sheen of sweat formed on her forehead—clearly caught in some nightmare or discomfort. “Doctor, when will my granddaughter wake up?” An old man’s anxious voice cut through the air. Suddenly, the girl’s eyes snapped open. Faye was momentarily stunned by the sharp smell of disinfectant. Her eyes darted around the room—it was clearly a hospital, packed with medical equipment. Faye pinched her thigh hard in disbelief. The sharp jolt of pain told her loud and clear—this wasn't a dream. She wasn’t dead. Her hands clenched into fists. She was too shaken to say a word. But just the thought of Mara and Ethan made every nerve in her body twitch and scream. The pain nearly stole her breath. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears as a wave of hatred crashed inside her. “Cassandra, Cassandra, you’re awake!” The old man’s voice trembled with joy as he grabbed her hand tightly, his kind face overcome with emotion. Faye stared blankly at the unfamiliar but gentle man. Confused, she mumbled, “…Who are you?” The old man froze, then said gently, “Cassandra, I’m your grandpa.” Faye’s brows furrowed even deeper. Cassandra? Was he talking to her? That name wasn’t hers. She grew instantly alert, her guard back up. “What are you talking about? I’m Faye, the eldest daughter of the Hawthorne family. And who exactly are you? Why are you here?” Her tone sharpened with suspicion and a bit of that natural haughtiness she’d always carried. Panicking, Alexander Taylor quickly called the doctor. The medical explanation? A head injury during a car accident had caused a concussion—temporary memory confusion or brief amnesia was expected. Hearing that, the old man calmed himself and tried explaining, “Cassandra, the doctor said the crash affected your memory. You might be mixing up time or names, but it’ll pass. You’re Cassandra Taylor, daughter of the Taylor Group. I’m your grandpa. As for Faye… heard she fell down the stairs yesterday. Didn’t make it.” Faye sat frozen, mind in chaos. She was… Cassandra? Faye… died yesterday? What the hell was going on? “…I… I’m a little tired.” Her voice barely more than a whisper, her face pale and shaken. Alexander gave her a comforting nod, said a few gentle words, then quietly left the room, thinking she needed rest. The second he was gone, Faye yanked out the IV from her hand and leapt from the bed, rushing into the bathroom. She stood before the mirror, her fingers tracing the features staring back. Beautiful, but completely foreign. Her skin still looked a bit sickly, but her facial features… long, sleek eyebrows, deep star-like eyes, a straight nose, and glossy pink lips that curved slightly at the corners. Not her face. Not remotely. A few seconds of stunned silence. Then— “Haha… Mara, Ethan, you two never saw this coming, huh?” Faye held her face with both hands, tears running down her cheeks as laughter spilled out—high, shaky, packed with rage and grief and something close to wild relief. Reincarnation? Possession? She didn’t care what to call it. Since the universe handed her a second shot, she’d use this new body, this new face—everything—to drag those lying scumbags straight to hell.