Chapter 1

My sister racked up $3 million in debt before dying in a sudden accident.

At her funeral, my parents sobbed as they grabbed my hands. "We may be poor, but we aren't soulless. Death doesn't erase debts."

"Clara, help us out here," Dad begged. "A soul that dies in debt can never rest!"

Just like that, I handed over every penny I'd saved.

Starting the next day, I worked three jobs—mornings, nights, weekends. I didn't stop.

Not even the night I miscarried my second pregnancy. Blood still fresh between my legs, I dragged myself back to work.

This went on for years. Until my daughter turned thirteen.

I worked late one night. Couldn't pick her up from school.

She was raped and murdered in an alley three blocks from home.

My husband Marcus got the news and dropped dead from a heart attack. He wouldn't even look at me before he died.

"Thirteen years," he gasped. "Thirteen years, and Lily and I combined still couldn't compete with your dead sister."

"Clara, if there's a next life, I pray I never meet you again."

The night we buried Lily, I paid off the final 30 grand. Guilt crushing my chest, I jumped from a high-rise.

But just before I hit the ground, I saw them.

My sister—alive, glowing, draped all over Marcus's shoulder.

"Useless," she spat, checking her nails. "Took her ten years to scrape together three million. We had to wait this long just to be together openly."

Marcus kissed her temple. "Forget it. At least she earned us the money. We wouldn't have this kind of life without it."

"Mother and daughter are both dead now. Bad luck." Vivian wrinkled her nose. "Let's go. Tomorrow we're taking this cash straight to the Maldives."

I died with my eyes wide open.

When I opened them again, I was back at Vivian's funeral.

"Vivian, sweetheart, how could you leave us so soon? You've ripped our hearts right out!"

"How are we supposed to pay back all that debt you left behind?"

That shrill, familiar wailing hit me like a slap.

I hadn't even processed what was happening when Victor, the debt collector, strutted into the living room and slammed the loan contract onto the coffee table.

"Save the tears," he said, cigarette dangling from his lips. "Your daughter owed me three million before she croaked. Now she's dead, so what happens to the money?"

He was a mountain of a man—six-foot-something, built like a linebacker, with seven or eight muscle-bound goons flanked behind him.

The entire room of relatives went dead silent.

My brain jolted. I understood.

I'd been reborn.

Right back to the day of Vivian's funeral.

Mom's face was streaked with tears, her graying hair hanging limp over her shoulders. She stared at the contract and sobbed like she couldn't breathe.

"I know about this debt," she choked out. "Vivian told us—she wanted to buy us life insurance, but didn't have enough money. That's why she borrowed. Who knew it would spiral into this much..."

Dad wrapped his arm around her shoulders. When he opened his mouth, tears poured down the deep grooves in his face.

"Vivian was such a good girl. By third grade, she was already cooking for us. How could she just... leave like this?"

He stared at the contract. His gaze hardened.

"No matter what, this family doesn't dodge debts. She's gone, but the money still needs to be paid."

"We'll pay it. Every cent."

His bloodshot eyes turned and locked onto me in the crowd.

"Clara, from now on, we'll handle this three million together. We'll get through this as a family, okay?"

"If we don't pay, your sister's soul will wander lost forever."

They collapsed into each other's arms, sobbing.

Relatives swarmed around them, eyes glistening.

"David's always been a man of his word!"

"Don't worry—with Clara helping, you'll pay it off in no time."

"Stop crying. You've still got one daughter left. You can't fall apart now."

"Exactly. Vivian would be heartbroken seeing you like this."

But I wasn't looking at them.

My eyes were locked on Marcus, standing in the corner.

His face was twisted in grief as he stared at the casket. Perfect performance.

But I knew the truth.

He and Vivian had been together for years. The three million? A con job they'd cooked up with my parents.

Victor was just the enforcer they'd hired to play the heavy.

I crouched down, pretending to tie my shoe, and followed Marcus's line of sight.

The mahogany casket had several air holes drilled into the side. Through them, I could see fabric shifting slightly inside.

Of course.

Vivian wasn't dead at all.

I stood up.

Marcus immediately rushed over, concern painted all over his face. He took my hand firmly in his.

"Clara, we'll shoulder your sister's debt together. I don't care how many years it takes. I'll be right beside you."

In my past life, I'd believed him. Believed them all. I'd worked myself to the bone for ten years and never bought a single new outfit.

But this time? I yanked my hand free and laughed—cold and sharp.

"Why the hell should I pay off debts my sister racked up?"