The screech of twisting metal was still echoing in my skull when I opened my eyes to find a man kneeling by my hospital bed, his face a mask of practiced devotion. He was holding a ring—a cheap, thin band that looked like it had been salvaged from a discount bin—and asking me to spend the rest of my life with him. "Say yes, Mara!" a voice chirped from the bedside. "You’ve been waiting seven years for this. Don't keep him hanging!" My head throbbed, a dull, rhythmic ache behind my eyes. For a moment, the world blurred, and then the memories hit me—not just the crash, but the suffocating weight of a life already lived. In my first life, I had nodded. I had been dazed, my memory a fractured mirror, and I had reached for his hand like it was a life raft. Because of that one choice, my best friend, Jade, had stepped into my shoes. She became the long-lost heiress, the miracle daughter of a billionaire couple from Chicago, while I was whisked away to a dead-end town in rural Ohio to become Grant’s dutiful wife. I spent thirty years in that town. I spent thirty years bleaching the stains of his indifference out of his shirts and nursing his paralyzed mother while she cursed my name. Grant would leave for "work" months at a time, sending back barely enough money to keep the lights on. I remembered the end. I remembered lying in a bed that smelled of damp and old age, my lungs failing. Grant had looked at me then, his eyes sharp with a terrifying kind of relief. "You know," he’d whispered, leaning close enough for me to smell the expensive bourbon on his breath—the bourbon my 'parents' had likely paid for. "The couple who came looking for their daughter back then? They were yours. They’re worth hundreds of millions. But look at you, Mara. You were always so plain, so ordinary. You would have been miserable in that world. So I gave the DNA results to Jade. She was born for that life. She’s beautiful, she’s smart. She deserved it more." As the monitors flatlined, he’d actually smiled. "I felt guilty sometimes, watching you rot here. But now that you're finally dying, I can let it go. My conscience is clear." The rage had been the last thing I felt before the darkness claimed me. And now, I was back. The antiseptic smell of the hospital was the same. The cheap ring was the same. And Grant was right there, waiting for me to forfeit my life again. 1 “Mara! Mara! Come on, don’t just stand there—say yes!” My friends’ voices were a blurred cacophony of excitement, pressing in on me from all sides. They kept reminding me that I’d been waiting seven years for this moment, that I should just grab my happily-ever-after while it was being handed to me. Looking at the scene before me, a violent shudder ripped through my body. The sterile smell of the hospital, the cheap bouquet of carnations, the expectant faces—it was all too familiar. The realization hit me like a physical blow: I was back. I had actually come back. In my previous life, my parents had tracked me down at the orphanage. They had run DNA tests on several girls, myself included. But before the results came back, the accident happened. I woke up with my memories shattered, a blank slate for Grant to write his lies upon. I’d spent thirty years as a ghost, a shell of a woman in a dead-end town, scrubbing floors and caring for his paralyzed mother while he spent "working" months in the city, barely sending back enough for bread. I had died in a cold bed, gasping for air, while Grant leaned over me and whispered the truth: that my parents were billionaires, that he’d swapped my DNA results with Tessa’s because "a girl like me" didn't deserve that life. He said Tessa was the one who belonged in high society. He said he felt "guilty" watching me suffer, and he was glad I was finally dying so he could have a clean conscience. I felt a surge of bile rise in my throat. I looked down at Grant, who was still hovering on one knee, his face a mask of practiced devotion. “Mara, honey, you must be in shock,” Grant said, his voice smooth as oil. “I get it. You don’t even have to say it. I know what’s in your heart.” Without waiting for an answer, he grabbed my hand, eager to slide the ring onto my finger. It was a pathetic thing—a thin, silver-plated band with a cloudy stone, likely picked up from a pawn shop on his way here. It was two sizes too small. He didn't care. He just gripped my knuckles, forcing the metal over my skin with brutal, clumsy strength. “Enough!” I wrenched my hand back, the movement so sudden that the ring went flying. It hit the linoleum floor with a sharp, hollow ting and rolled under a cabinet. The room went silent. Grant’s face froze, his expression caught between a fake smile and genuine irritation. I looked him dead in the eye, my voice cold and steady. “I don’t know who you are. Get out.” Grant’s jaw tightened, but he quickly pivoted to his "doting boyfriend" persona. His eyes turned glassy with forced tears as he reached for me again. “Mara, I know the accident scrambled things, but we’ve been together for seven years. I’m your only family. I’m the man you love. You have to trust me.” He looked so sincere that the people in the room started whispering, casting judgmental looks my way. In their eyes, I was a girl from nowhere—an orphan with no degree and no future. Grant, though not rich, was "handsome" and "loyal." They thought I was the one winning the lottery by having him. But I remembered. I remembered the seven years of "devotion" that had preceded the accident. I remembered washing his grease-stained clothes by hand, even his socks and underwear. I remembered him forbidding me from eating out, bringing home half-eaten leftovers from dinners with his friends as if they were a prize. I remembered the cramped, moldy apartment where I used his lukewarm bathwater to save on the utility bill. He didn't do it because we were poor. He did it because he despised me. He wanted to strip away every ounce of my dignity until I believed I was worth nothing. He told me I was plain, that I was lucky a man like him would even look at a girl with no parents. And then, when the chance came for me to be found, he stole my life and handed it to Tessa on a silver platter. 2 “Even if you had gone back to the city, a girl as mediocre as you would have been a laughingstock. I was doing you a favor.” Grant’s parting words from my deathbed echoed in my mind. He’d spent decades gaslighting me, and even as I was dying, he was still framing his treachery as an act of mercy. He was a parasite who had convinced himself he was a savior. “If you actually cared about me,” I said, my voice cutting through his performance, “why would you pressure me the second I wake up? If you were truly looking out for me, you’d wait until I had my bearings. You’d wait for me to remember.” Grant flinched, his brow furrowing. He looked at me the way a master looks at a dog that has suddenly stopped obeying commands. Suddenly, Tessa stepped forward. She took my hand in hers, her touch light and feminine, her face a picture of concerned friendship. “Mara, sweetie, Grant is just so happy you’re okay,” she cooed. “He knows how much you’ve always wanted a real home, a family. That’s why he wanted to make it official right away. You two are perfect together. If you don’t believe us, just look at the photos on your phone.” I almost laughed. I knew why Tessa was so desperate. We had grown up in the same foster system, but she had always looked down on me. Anything I had, she wanted. If a teacher gave me a sticker, it would be on her notebook the next day. In my last life, after she stole my identity, she came to visit me once. She was draped in designer silk, her skin glowing from expensive treatments. I had greeted her with cracked lips and hands calloused from labor. She had recoiled as if I carried the plague. “God, Mara, you look so old,” she had sneered. “Poor Grant. He really got the short end of the stick marrying a townie like you.” That was the day after I had miscarried. I was alone, bleeding, and forced to cook dinner because Grant "needed to eat." I had looked at him, hoping for a shred of defense, but he had just smiled at Tessa. “She can’t help it,” he’d said. “You’re a princess, Tessa. She’s just a farm girl. It’s just her nature.” But I knew better now. It wasn't nature. It was theft. I pulled my hand out of Tessa’s grip. “I don’t know you either. Please leave. I need to rest.” Tessa’s hand hung in mid-air, a flash of pure venom flickering in her eyes before she masked it with a tight smile. “Fine. If that’s how you feel… rest up.” Grant tried to argue, but Tessa grabbed his arm and hauled him toward the door. The rest of the "friends" followed, sensing the shift in the air. Finally, I was alone. My head throbbed, but I couldn't sleep yet. I needed the DNA results. I managed to limp down to the records office, but the nurse behind the counter looked confused. “The results for Mara Vance? A young man picked those up an hour ago.” The floor felt like it was tilting. Grant. He was moving even faster this time. My parents were supposed to arrive tomorrow, and he couldn't even wait twenty-four hours to secure his lie. 3 I made it back to my room just as Grant was waiting by the door. “Where were you?” he demanded. I dodged his hand as he tried to steady me. “You took my DNA results, didn't you?” The hallway went dead silent. Grant’s eyes darkened, his lips thinning into a hard line. For a second, he looked like he might actually strike me. “Who told you about the DNA tests?” he hissed. I stayed calm, feigning indifference. “I overheard some nurses talking. They mentioned I was part of a screening. So, what did it say?” Grant visibly relaxed, the tension leaving his shoulders. “I checked for you. It was a bust. You weren't a match.” He adopted that condescending, "teaching" tone he loved so much. “Don’t get your hopes up, Mara. Life isn’t a fairy tale. You need to keep your feet on the ground.” He stepped closer, gripping my shoulders. “What I love about you is that you aren't vain. You aren't like those other girls. Let’s just focus on our life together and stop chasing things that don’t belong to us.” I looked at him, feeling a deep, visceral disgust. He had stolen my birthright and then had the audacity to call me "unambitious" for not having it. In my previous life, he’d tricked me into a quick courthouse wedding and then disappeared to the city for "work." Years later, I’d saved every penny to take a bus to see him, only to find him at a lavish wedding—marrying Tessa. When I tried to confront him, his security guards threw me into a literal dog kennel. Afterward, he didn't apologize. He screamed at me. “Why do you have to be so difficult? I keep you fed in that house, isn't that enough? I’m trying to climb the ladder for us, and you’re just dead weight!” He’d given me a few hundred dollars to shut me up and sent me back to the middle of nowhere. Now, Grant started packing my hospital bag as if the matter was settled. “The room is too expensive anyway. You don’t have much in savings, and we need to save for a down payment. Let’s go home and—” “I’m staying,” I interrupted. “And don't come back.” I grabbed the suitcase from him. Grant’s face turned a bruised purple. “What is wrong with you? I’m doing this for your own good! Once your memory comes back, you’ll see how much you need me. You’re penniless and alone, Mara. Don't be stupid.” “I don’t know you,” I repeated, my voice like ice. “Get out before I call security.” Grant looked like he’d been slapped. “Are you breaking up with me?” I shrugged. “If that’s what helps you understand. Goodbye, Grant.” Before he could respond, the door swung open and Tessa rushed in, looking frantic. “Mara! What are you doing? You can’t break up with him, you’re practically married!” I ignored her. I pulled up my phone and showed her a notification. “Did you use my card for a two-hundred-dollar salon appointment this morning?” Tessa froze, her hand instinctively going to her fresh, honey-blonde highlights. She forced a laugh. “Oh, that? We’re best friends, remember? You gave me your backup card ages ago. You’re always so generous, Mara. Don't be petty.” I opened my Venmo app and held up the QR code. “Cash or transfer?” They both stared at me. “What?” “The two hundred dollars. Pay me back. Now.” 4 Tessa’s eyes welled up with tears, her "victim" act kicking into high gear. Grant exploded. He lunged for my phone. “You’ve gone insane! You’re really going to shake her down for a couple hundred bucks? Have you no shame?” I stepped back, dodging him. “Is she a beggar? If she can’t afford it, she shouldn't spend it. If you’re so generous, Grant, you pay it.” “Enough!” Tessa shrieked. She dropped the sweet act, her face contorting with elitist disdain. “Fine! I’ll tell you the truth. I’m the heiress to the Whitaker estate. My parents are coming for me tomorrow. Once I’m in New York, I won’t just have hundreds, I’ll have millions. You’re just a pathetic loser, Mara. You have no right to talk to me like this!” She turned and ran out of the room. Grant turned back to me, his expression grim. “Happy now? You’ve chased off your only friend. You really did hit your head too hard. Pack your things. We’re leaving.” “I’m stayng.” “What are you trying to do?” Grant roared, losing his composure. “Are you trying to ruin everything for everyone?” He stopped abruptly, realizing he’d said too much. I tilted my head. “Ruin what, Grant?” “Nothing! Just… just come with me!” “No. If you touch me again, I’m calling the police.” The room went deathly still. Grant’s teeth were gritted so hard I could hear them grinding. He turned on his heel and slammed the door so hard the framed hospital charter rattled on the wall. I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. Tomorrow, when the Whitakers arrived, I would dismantle Tessa’s lie. Nobody was stealing my life again. But the next morning, my door didn't open for my parents. It was kicked open by Grant’s mother. She charged at me like a bull, grabbing my wrist with nicotine-stained fingers. Her sharp nails dug into my skin, drawing blood. “Get up! You’re coming home!” “Let go of me! Help! Somebody help!” I screamed. A crowd began to gather in the hallway. Grant’s mother immediately pivoted, her eyes overflowing with crocodile tears. “Please, she’s my daughter-in-law! She lost her memory and doesn't recognize her own family! We raised her since she was a girl—we gave her every scrap of food we had!” The onlookers softened. One man even stepped forward to lecture me. “Young lady, they’ve done so much for you. Don't be ungrateful.” I was panicking. “She’s lying! I’ve never taken a cent from her!” In reality, I had spent thirty years being her servant while she screamed at me and cursed my name every time I didn't fluff her pillow correctly. Grant appeared then, pulling a beat-up van around to the hospital entrance. He hopped out, his face dark, and helped his mother shove me toward the vehicle. He clamped a hand over my mouth, stifling my screams, while his mother produced a length of rope to tie my hands. Then, I saw it. A sleek, black sedan pulled into the lot. Two people stepped out—the Whitakers. My parents. They looked exactly as they did in my memories, rushing toward the hospital entrance with frantic hope in their eyes. They were getting further away. My heart hammered against my ribs. I did the only thing I could—I clamped my teeth down on Grant’s hand as hard as I could. “Argh!” He screamed, his grip loosening. I kicked his mother in the shins and threw myself out of the van, stumbling onto the pavement. “Mara! Get back here!” Grant was on my heels like a demon. I didn't stop. I sprinted through the crowd, my lungs burning. Up ahead, I saw Tessa. She was already throwing herself into my mother’s arms, sobbing hysterically. Grant caught up to me, grabbing me by the throat from behind, trying to drag me back into the shadows. The rage finally boiled over. I dug my nails into the open wound on his hand, and the moment he flinched, I screamed with every bit of air I had left. “Mom! Dad! I’m your daughter!”
? Continue the story here ?? ? Download the "MotoNovel" app ? search for "391273", and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel