I died on a Thursday.
The weather was nice—ironic, really. A clear blue sky above, no clouds, no thunder. Just the soft hum of betrayal in my ears as I bled out on the office floor. I remember the look in my best friend's eyes as she pulled the knife free.
Regret? No. Satisfaction.
And then, nothing.
But the moment I opened my eyes again, I knew something was wrong.
For one, the ceiling was made of carved crystal. A chandelier floated above me like stardust frozen mid-twinkle. My hands small, pale, and far too delicate trembled as I sat up in a bed fit for a royal bride.
Then came the memory dump. Like a tsunami crashing through my skull.
Seraphina Vale.
The villainess.
Betrayer of the kingdom. Poisoner of the prince. Condemned to die by execution at the age of seventeen.
The girl I was now.
Except none of that made sense.
Because if Seraphina was so evil… why were her memories screaming the opposite?