Chapter 1

Cordelia's POV

The shrill school bell yanked me back from the darkness.

I jerked my head up, gasping for air, cold sweat soaking through my shirt. My heart hammered against my ribs like it was trying to escape my chest.

That suffocating feeling, that crushing despair, and... and those filthy hands...

I instinctively wrapped my arms around myself, my body trembling uncontrollably.

"Cordelia, are you okay?" Emma, my desk partner, looked at me with concern. "Were you having a nightmare? You were crying..."

I touched my cheek—it was wet.

"I... I just..." My voice shook. "Had a terrible dream..."

But why did it feel so real? I could still smell the stench of that alley, still hear the sound of my uniform being torn...

"Don't scream, pretty girl. No one's coming to save you..."

"Weren't you so high and mighty? Not feeling so superior now, are you?"

"Your sweet little sister sent us... said you were asking for it..."

I covered my mouth, fighting back nausea.

Those voices, those disgusting words, still echoed in my ears. Those rough hands, that soul-crushing pain, that desperate wish for death...

I remembered returning to the classroom afterward. Disheveled and tear-stained, I watched as my classmates' expressions shifted from sympathy to disgust...

"She really did it with those thugs..."

"Disgusting..."

"Can't believe the Duke's daughter would..."

Father's cold voice rang through the phone: "Cordelia, you've disappointed me beyond words. You're no longer worthy of being the Ashworth heir."

Then came that excruciating pain. My body began convulsing, cold sweat pouring down. I collapsed on this very desk, feeling life drain away as the world grew distant...

"Cordelia? Are you really okay?" Emma's voice pulled me back to reality. "Should we go to the nurse? You look like you're in pain..."

I shook my head, trying to steady myself. Just a dream. Just a dream...

But why did this agony feel so real? I could even remember that suffocating sensation before death...

"Emma," I asked shakily, "what's today's date?"

"September 15th." Emma gave me a strange look. "It's only been two weeks since school started. Did you forget what day it is?"

September 15th...

No... impossible... I distinctly remembered dying at year's end... it was December, almost winter break...

My pulse quickened. An impossible thought began forming.

Just then, soft footsteps approached the classroom door.

I mechanically lifted my head and saw a familiar figure hesitating at the doorframe.

Time seemed to freeze.

It was her.

Ophelia.

She stood at the entrance with her head down, clutching her bag strap. Soft brown curls fell over her shoulders, her uniform pristine and neat. She looked so small, so innocent.

Just like... just like the first time we met...

No. This couldn't be happening.

I died. I clearly remembered dying. That pain, that despair—it was all real.

But why was Ophelia here? Why did she look like she was just arriving?

The teacher entered and noticed her at the door.

"Class, I'd like you to meet our new transfer student, Ophelia Whitmore. She just transferred from a boarding school in London. I hope you'll all make her feel welcome."

I'd heard those exact words before.

Word for word.

The tone, the pauses, even the teacher's expression—everything matched my memory perfectly.

Students turned to look at Ophelia curiously. She gave a timid bow, her voice barely audible:

"Hello everyone, I'm Ophelia. Please take care of me."

Even that gesture, those words—identical.

My hands began shaking violently.

This wasn't a dream. This wasn't a hallucination.

Everything was repeating. Everything had returned to the beginning.

I... I'd been reborn?

I was actually reborn!

Wild joy surged through me—I nearly laughed out loud.

Reborn!

What did this mean? It meant I had a chance to start over, a chance to change everything!

I had a chance for revenge!

Looking at that "innocent" girl at the door, flames of vengeance ignited in my heart.

In my past life, you used my kindness and trust to destroy me. You orchestrated that horrific trap, had me assaulted by those thugs...

I clenched my fists, nails digging into my palms.

You made me endure that hellish torture, left me to die in despair. You stole everything from me—my reputation, my dignity, my life.

But this time was different.

This time, I knew your true nature. I knew your methods, your every scheme.