Chapter 1

I died three times.

The first time, their betrayal killed me.

The second time, I died before I could get my revenge.

The third time, I lay inside a casket and listened to my fiancé clutch the box holding what he thought were my last belongings.

"Natalie, please come back. I miss you. Please. I'd trade my life for yours."

I opened my eyes, climbed out of the casket, and pressed a button.

Confetti cannons exploded. Gold streamers rained all over him.

"Keep your life," I said, sitting up with a smile. "Just give me back my money."

It was barely raining the day of my accident, but the roads were slick.

A delivery truck blew through a red light and slammed into my car, throwing it nearly thirty feet. I broke three ribs, suffered a brain bleed, and went straight into the ICU.

I remembered nothing from the first month of the coma.

After that, awareness came back a little at a time. I could not open my eyes. Tubes ran in and out of my body, and I could not move so much as a fingertip.

My hearing worked just fine.

I could hear everything people said beside my bed.

One of the nurses murmured while changing my IV, "Your boyfriend comes every day. You're a lucky woman."

For one foolish second, warmth spread through my chest. Ethan Shaw had never been good with words, but six years together had to mean something.

Then I heard what I was never supposed to hear.

One afternoon, Ethan sat beside my bed and made a call on speaker. Sophie Cole's voice came through the phone.

"How much longer until she dies?"

"The doctor said the pressure from the brain bleed went untreated too long," Ethan replied quietly. "Even if she survives, she might never wake up. At that point, what's the difference?"

"What about the properties?"

"Once the doctors certify that she's incapacitated, her durable power of attorney kicks in. Don't panic, Sophie. She named me years ago, and I've already leaned on the hospital administrator. They'll give me the letters I need."

I lay there with tubes threaded through my body, unable to move one finger.

I remember thinking that if ghosts existed, this must be what it felt like to be one. My soul was trapped inside a useless shell while my fiancé calculated how long it would take me to stop breathing.