Chapter 3

Amelia jumped slightly, only to realize Damien was simply unbuckling her seatbelt. He carried a subtle, masculine scent—a mix of light cologne and something uniquely his. “Thank you, Mr. Taylor. I’ll go in now,” she said, trying to ignore the sudden flutter in her chest. Once she stepped out, Damien didn’t drive off immediately. He watched as Amelia approached a villa—but instead of using the front door, she climbed deftly onto the balcony. Just then, his phone vibrated. “Sir, the two men have been dealt with. What’s next?” “Hand them over to the police,” Damien replied coldly. “One issue… one of them didn’t make it.” “Did you get any information from them?” Damien pressed sharply. “We… didn’t have the chance.” He had intended to interrogate them about who was behind the attack on Amelia, but his men had been overzealous. Hanging up, he rubbed his temples in frustration. Inside, Amelia had already slipped through the balcony into her bedroom and changed into pajamas. Lying in bed, memories of that horrific day from her past life flooded back. Back then, Sabrina had lied, telling her Ethan was waiting at his apartment. Overjoyed, she rushed over—only to find Sabrina in bed with Ethan. She had completely lost control. Ethan looked at her with contempt. “Playing the innocent victim? Who are you trying to fool?” Sabrina asked Ethan to leave, claiming she would persuade Amelia not to break off the engagement. The moment he was gone, Sabrina dropped the act. Smirking triumphantly, she said, “Those scandalous photos from your birthday? Ethan has seen them. And just five minutes ago, I posted them online—congratulations, you’re about to go viral. Haha…” That was when Amelia finally saw Sabrina for the manipulative snake she was. But even then, she never imagined Sabrina would go as far as murder. Sabrina drugged her, slashed her face repeatedly, and pushed her from the 27th floor. She didn’t just want Ethan—she wanted Amelia ruined, all for the Johnson family fortune. Sabrina had schemed ruthlessly, but she could never have anticipated one thing: Amelia had been reborn. Now, with a second chance, Amelia wasn’t going to waste it. Just wait, Sabrina—your reckoning is coming. If her memory was correct, Sabrina would call in about ten minutes. Right on cue, her phone lit up. The moment she answered, Sabrina’s voice oozed fake concern: “Sis, where are you? Why aren’t you home yet?” Amelia answered in a groggy, sleep-filled voice: “Sabrina? Did you dial wrong? I’m asleep.” Downstairs in the Johnson living room, Sabrina had put the call on speaker. Richard and Grace sat on the couch nearby. Sabrina adopted a guilty, tearful tone: “Sis, it’s all my fault—I shouldn’t have taken you out to celebrate your birthday without telling Mom and Dad. You drank too much and disappeared… Please come home! Mom and Dad are worried sick!” Amelia yawned lazily: “But I’m already in bed.” Sabrina sounded on the verge of tears: “Sis, stop joking… Where are you really?” Amelia replied, feigning confusion: “What do you mean? I’m at home. Sabrina, are you okay? Did you drink too much?” Richard’s angry voice cut in: “Amelia Johnson! You’re the one who sounds drunk. Get home now—ten minutes!” Grace added with false warmth: “Amelia, we’re really worried. We’re all waiting for you in the living room.” Amelia smirked coldly. Worried? Please. That stepmother-and-daughter duo only knew how to play the innocent victims. Her father? Always took their side without question. “Sis, say something!” Sabrina pressed—certain Amelia was lying and eager to expose her. Just then, Amelia’s voice came from the top of the stairs. She looked genuinely puzzled: “Sabrina, what are you talking about?” Sabrina turned and froze. Amelia was walking down the stairs. But that was impossible—wasn’t she supposed to be unconscious in a hotel? How was she home?!