Chapter 1

In my past life, I ran a food cart selling loaded French fries. The stall next to mine belonged to an older woman named Brenda who sold roasted turkey legs.

Her legs were a huge hit, but I could tell at a single glance that they weren't turkey at all. They were cheap, discarded duck legs—and some of them were visibly covered in mold.

I quietly warned the regular college kids not to get scammed.

Instead of thanking me, they turned around, cursed me out for being a jealous hater, and snitched on me to Brenda.

With red, teary eyes, Brenda put on a show: "I’m just an old lady trying to make an honest living! Why is she trying to ruin me?"

"Does she really hate seeing poor folks get an affordable bite to eat that much?"

I was cyberbullied relentlessly. My cart was completely trashed. I couldn't scrape together the money for my son’s life-saving surgery anymore.

The night I went out desperately begging for loans, a heavy-duty truck plowed straight into me.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back to two years ago.

Smiling warmly at the students, I said, "Auntie Brenda’s turkey legs are the best! You guys should buy extra today."

The moment those words left my mouth, Brenda's serving spoon visibly froze in midair.

She looked up at me, pure bewilderment flashing across her face before she forced a tight, wrinkled smile.

"Well, well. Look who finally came to her senses."

I caught the glance she shot my way.

It wasn't gratitude. It was a cold warning.

I said nothing, keeping my head down as I continued chopping my potatoes.

"Whoa, Lauren, flipping the script pretty fast, aren't you?"

A chubby college kid walked over holding a roasted leg, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

"Weren't you just trash-talking her yesterday? Saying she was selling fake, moldy meat?"

"Now you're kissing up to her? Talk about a sore loser who can't stand seeing someone else make bank."

A few other students around him burst out laughing.

"Seriously. She just can't stand seeing ordinary folks make an honest buck."

"Fatty’s totally right. People like her are just rotten to the core."

My hands never stopped peeling the potatoes.

"You guys are right," I said, looking up with an easy smile. "I must've seen it wrong before. Brenda's cooking really is amazing."

Fatty let out a loud snort, took a massive bite of the leg, and strutted right in front of my cart on purpose.

"Smell that? That’s what real, premium meat smells like. Unlike some people who only know how to be bitter."

I didn't take the bait.

A long line stretched out in front of Brenda’s stall, while mine sat practically deserted.

The entire afternoon, I made only three sales.

And one of them was my own lunch.

Packing up that night, I crouched on the pavement counting the day's earnings: sixteen dollars.

My phone rang.

It was my mother-in-law.

"Lauren, you seriously have the nerve to pick up?"

Her shrill voice pierced right through the speaker.

"The turkey leg lady next door called me today! She said you've been running around spreading filthy lies that she's selling fake meat!"

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

"You can't even handle a simple street cart, so how do you expect to pay for Toby’s surgery?"

"Forty thousand dollars! Where the hell are you going to get that kind of cash?"

My knuckles turned white as I gripped the phone.

"Look at yourself, you pathetic loser. Ever since my son died, all you’ve done is—"

"Mom," I interrupted softly. "I'll get the money together."

"Get it together? How? With your pathetic potato cart? Do you even clear ten bucks a day?"

"You're completely useless. No wonder people walk all over you!"

A tiny, weak voice echoed in the background.

"Grandma, please stop yelling at Mommy..."

"Shut up, Toby! Grown-ups are talking!"

After some scuffling, my boy's voice came through the receiver.

"Mommy."

"Hey, baby." I fought to keep my voice steady.

"Mommy, I don't need the surgery."

"Please don't be sad."

"Grandma said it costs too much money, and you don't have it."

"I don't want people to yell at you anymore. I won't get sick anymore, I promise. I'm okay."

Hot tears splattered onto my apron.

I took a deep, shuddering breath.

"Toby, sweetie, put Grandma back on."

"Mom," I said flatly into the receiver. "I will come up with Toby’s surgery money."

"Oh yeah? With what? French fries?"

"I'll get it."

"Fine! I'll be waiting to see it. Just remember, Toby is your kid. If you don't pay up and he dies, that blood is on your hands!"

The line went dead. I stared blankly at the asphalt.

Everything I suffered in my past life—I will never, ever let it happen again.

In this life, I'm going to let Brenda climb as high as she wants, just so she can feel how hard the pavement hits when she falls.