My sister, Serena, always dreamed of striking it rich. Her plan? Stage an accident that would cripple Leo Kingston, the only son of Manhattan's most untouchable financial dynasty.

A rebar stake through the kid's chest. Serena played the Good Samaritan, rushing him to the E.R., even pumping out 800cc of her own blood. No fanfare, no creditthat was the trick to getting the biggest reward. As soon as the doctors said the danger had passed, she bolted.

And I didn't stop her. I stood in the corridor, watching her back.

Last timein my former lifeI tried to warn her. I saw her tampering with the equipment at the construction site and begged her to stop; the Kingstons were untouchable. She smiled, told me I was sweet, and then, on the walk home, she took me to the roof of that very same steel plant and pushed. I died choking on my own blood, impaled on the same construction debris she'd rigged.

My final thought: She blamed me for ruining her jackpot.

Then, I opened my eyes. Back in the same day. The same humming, antiseptic corridor.

This time, I wasn't saving her. I was watching her dig her own grave.

1

Leo Kingston was in emergency surgery. My sister, Serena Miller, was at the blood bank window, her face a mask of refined, selfless panic. Her expensive designer dress was artfully soaked in Leos blood. If you hadn't seen her orchestrate the accidentif you didn't know the sickening ambition churning beneath that fragile facadeyou would have thought she was a literal saint.

"Is that enough?" she pleaded with the nurse, her voice catching with forced tears. "If he needs more, take it! I have plenty! Hes so small. You have to save him, or I'll never have a moment's peace."

The nurse cooed about her kindness, assuring her that the amount she'd given was more than enough. Serena bowed and scraped, thanking the nurse with effusive, grateful reverence. But when the nurse asked for her name, Serena smoothly changed the subject.

It was all part of the plan. Her information was on the transfusion documents, but by pretending to be a self-effacing hero, she hoped the Kingstonsa family known for their obscene wealth and old money arrogancewould offer a reward far greater than any she could have negotiated.

The nurse hurried away. The surgical doors swung shut.

Serena's grip was a vice on my arm, making me gasp. The act was over. Her voice was a low, vicious hiss, all the Good Samaritan stripped away.

"Keep that mouth shut, Naomi. You know the score."

I gently pulled my arm free. I could feel the adrenaline thrumming through me, but I kept my face blankthe familiar, cowed expression she expected.

"Don't worry, Serena. You're my sister. Who else would I side with?" I kept my voice small and meek. "Just let me be the receptionist when you get your big payout. I just want a steady paycheck."

Serena scoffed, wiping a smear of blood off her sleeve with a disdainful frown. "Mom and Dad are right. You're a useless commodity, a born drone. You'll die in debt without my brilliance." She was already walking toward the elevator, high heels clicking impatiently.

I just nodded along, playing the pathetic, easily managed younger sister. Last time, my concern had been interpreted as sabotage. This time? I would push her toward the cliff. I wanted to see exactly how she planned to survive messing with Rhys Kingston.

Serena didn't spare me another thought. She saw my fabricated fear and preened. "Fine. Stop looking so scared. Youre irritating me. When my company launches, Ill hire you as my assistantmaybe hook you up with a chauffeur. That should keep your bills paid."

She practically dragged me to the elevator.

As expected, we hit the ground floor just as he arrived: Rhys Kingston, the man who owned half of Manhattan and whose son was currently bleeding out upstairs.

Serenas eyes sharpened, a silent, warning glare aimed at me.

I immediately clutched my stomach. "Bathroom. Emergency."

I fled. Why link myself to her when her carefully constructed tower was about to crumble?

I heard Serenas voice echoing down the corridor, overly sweet and carefully pitched. "Oh, no thanks are necessary. It's just what anyone would do. That poor boy is only five." She turned down the offer of immediate financial help, but conveniently dropped her new, expensive-looking business card right at the Assistant's feet.

I waited until I heard the elevator ding. Rhyss tone was lethally smooth, devoid of any genuine relief or gratitude.

"I want to know if this was a loose bolt or a calculated hit," he said to his Assistant. "No cops. I handle my own problems. You try to hurt a Kingston, you learn the hard way: I know a hundred ways to make you permanently quiet."

"Check the rebar. Check the workers. I want to know exactly how unstable that beam was. We'll see if the steel or the perpetrator is harder."

The Assistant nervously glanced at Serena's dropped card. "What about Serena Miller...?"

"Don't care yet," Rhys cut him off. "See to my son. I'll question the child when he wakes up."

I waited until the elevator doors closed on the elite entourage. I could finally breathe. Serena hadn't just messed with a wealthy man; she had tried to extort a true powerhouse. Her lavish funeral was practically booked.

Her car was gone when I finally stepped outside. She didn't answer her phone. I caught a cab back to our dismal little house.

The moment I walked through the door, my father's heavy glass ashtray slammed against my forehead. Blood immediately bloomed.

"Naomi, you spineless failure!" my mother shrieked, not even looking at the blood. "Your father has worked the Kingston site for years! This was our chance! You don't help your sister, but you damn well don't ruin her performance!"

My father shoved his palm directly onto the bleeding wound on my forehead. The pain was blinding. "Serena told you to leave immediately! Are you deaf? Did you plan to steal her savior credit? You idiot! Do you want 'Extortion' written on your t-shirt?"

They knew. They all knew this was a cheap, vile con. I remembered how they had blamed me in my former lifea cold, twisted memory where they refused to collect my broken body because I had supposedly cost Serena her fortune.

"Taking her credit?" I spat the words, tasting blood. "Or taking the fall for near-homicide? Only a sick person looks at everyone else and only sees an accomplice."

My father raised his hand for another blow, but Serena swept into the room, cutting him off.

"Stop, Dad. Shes useless. Dont waste your energy." She eyed my head wound with bored contempt. "Rhys Kingston got there so fast. Luckily, I was quick. I dropped the card and ran."

My mothers face, a second ago tight with fury, instantly melted into pride. "That's my girl! Always the smart one! Unlike some people, who are only good for being a drain on the electric bill! Twenty years, and still nothing but a disappointment!"

I retreated to my room, grabbing some tissue to staunch the bleeding. From the hallway, I could hear Serena, her voice breathless with excitement, recounting the 'accident.'