Chapter 1

My husband cheated on me. On the way to file for divorce, we got into a car accident.

Before he died, he was still yelling at me, "You were the desperate one, practically climbing into my bed when you were seventeen!"

When I opened my eyes again, I was seventeen, back in the basement apartment where we'd eloped.

This time, I took one look at him and turned to run.

But to my surprise, he'd been reborn too. And he grabbed me, refusing to let me go.

At twenty-nine, my seven-year marriage to Jake Miller had finally become a sick joke.

On the way to the divorce lawyer, I was crying hysterically in the car, pointing my finger at him. "Jake Miller, are you even human? I suffered with you since I was seventeen, and now that things are good, you just turn around and find some fresh-out-of-college intern? Did a dog eat your conscience?"

Jake gripped the steering wheel, that sickening smirk plastered on his face. "My conscience? Ava Reed, we're two sides of the same coin. You were the one who wanted to elope with me. You practically jumped into my bed at seventeen. Now you're playing the innocent victim?"

I was trembling with rage, just about to lunge and scratch his face when a blinding white flash erupted directly ahead.

The out-of-control truck speeding toward us slammed into our car like a rampaging beast.

Excruciating pain, darkness, then an absolute void.

When I next regained consciousness, it was the smell of damp mold that choked me awake.

I groggily opened my eyes and saw sunlight filtering through a tiny, palm-sized window, dust motes dancing wildly in the golden beams.

The walls were plastered with old newspapers, so cramped it was suffocating. The tiny full-sized bed beneath me was covered in a faded, pilled pink piglet sheet that looked like it belonged in a thrift store.

I stared for a long moment, then lifted a hand to touch my face.

My skin was taut, free of fine lines, full of youthful collagen.

I was seventeen again.

Back then, I thought this place was paradise, a love nest where love alone was enough.

Now, it barely looked better than a dog kennel.

I still can't believe how incredibly stupid I was back then, leaving a sprawling villa for this dump.

Jake was an orphan, raised on the wrong side of the tracks, a wild card with a reputation for a quick temper and even quicker fists. He was notorious in our area, a real hell-raiser.

My family, on the other hand, was well-off. My parents were both high-level professionals, always had my life mapped out, treating me like their little princess. By all accounts, Jake and I were like two parallel lines, never meant to intersect.

The trouble started that snowy day.

I was walking home from school, passing through a dead-end alley, when I saw Jake being beaten by a group of guys.

After they scattered, I saw him lying in the snow, wearing only a thin black hoodie, a chilling red stain spreading beneath him.

I was young then, and too soft-hearted. I should have run, but my feet felt rooted to the spot.

On a strange impulse, I dialed 911, and even took off my down jacket to cover him.

"Hey... are you okay?"

He struggled to lift his eyelids, his eyes startlingly dark. "Aren't you scared of me?"

I stammered, "We go to the same school. Fighting is bad. You shouldn't fight anymore."

He scoffed, ignored me, and closed his eyes, pretending to be unconscious.

I foolishly squatted there, shielding him from the wind and snow until the ambulance arrived. I even used half a year's worth of my allowance to cover his medical bills.