Chapter 1
Andrea
The pain hit me like a freight train.
My legs were on fire, encased in plaster from thigh to ankle. White sheets, hospital smell, that fucking beeping machine – it all came rushing back.
But this time, I remembered everything.
Every. Single. Detail.
Yes, I killed myself.
They destroyed me in my previous life—turned a gymnastics sensation into a crippled has-been. My dreams of athletic glory became their twisted entertainment.
And who were my executioners? My beloved fiancé, my trusted brother, and that scheming whore Savannah.
Tyler was sitting beside my bed, holding my hand like he actually gave a damn.
His blue eyes were all puppy-dog concerned, that same look that used to make me melt. Not anymore.
"Andrea, baby," he whispered, squeezing my fingers. "As long as you forgive Savannah for this accident, we'll get married right after graduation like we planned."
'Forgive? You bastard, you have no idea what you put me through last time.'
The memories crashed over me – rain beating against hospital windows while I burned with fever, alone. Tyler's voice through the phone: "Stop being so dramatic, Andrea. It's just a cold."
The way he chose Savannah every single time, until I had nothing left.
"Take your hands off me, Tyler." My voice came out ice-cold. "A man who tells his fiancée to forgive the bitch who crippled her? What the hell do I need you for?"
His face went white. "Andrea, what's gotten into you?"
Before I could answer, sobbing echoed from the hallway. Dramatic, theatrical sobbing that made every nurse stop and stare.
Savannah.
She dropped to her knees right outside my door, tears streaming down her perfectly made-up face. "I'm so sorry, Andrea! I just transferred here from Cali, I didn't know the equipment well..."
Bullshit. She knew exactly what she was doing when she "accidentally" caused that gymnastics equipment to malfunction.
Heavy footsteps thundered down the hall. Ryan burst into my room, his face twisted with anger – but not at Savannah. At me.
"Andrea! Our family doesn't need her money! Savannah's mom just died, she's all alone from California, and you're gonna make her pay? What will people think of the Rodriguez name?"
I watched my brother's face, saw how his eyes kept darting to Tyler. How his hand lingered on Tyler's shoulder just a beat too long.
'Oh, you fucking assholes. I see it now.'
"People will think we don't let criminals get away with shit. But apparently, my own brother thinks differently."
"Criminal? It was an accident!"
"Was it, Ryan? Or are you just too busy staring at that bitch to notice the truth?"
The silence that followed was deafening. Ryan's face flushed red.
"I... Andrea, what are you saying?"
"Figure it out, genius."
Two hours later, Tyler wheeled me down to the hospital café. He thought he could smooth this over, the way he always did.
Sweet words, childhood memories, promises he never intended to keep.
"Look," I said, pulling out my phone. "Let's talk numbers, Tyler."
"Numbers?"
"Training fees for your gymnastics career. Equipment. Living expenses when your parents cut you off junior year. Medical bills when you tore your ACL..." I scrolled through my banking app, adding it all up. "1.2 million total. With interest."
Tyler's coffee cup clattered against the saucer. "Andrea, we've known each other since we were eight! We're engaged! You can't just—"
"Can't what? Take back what's mine? You think because we're childhood sweethearts I'm your personal ATM?"
His phone buzzed. Ryan's name flashed on the screen.
Tyler answered immediately. "Yeah... I know... I'm trying..." His whole demeanor shifted. "Look, maybe we can work something out..."
I leaned back in my wheelchair, watching this pathetic display. "Oh, Ryan's calling the shots now? How interesting."
Tyler's hand trembled as he hung up. "Andrea, be reasonable—"
"Reasonable?" I laughed, cold and sharp. "Like when you told me to be reasonable about Savannah moving into our apartment? Or when you were reasonable about spending our wedding fund on her 'emergency' expenses?"
"That's not... she needed help!"
"What she needed was a good fuck, and you were happy to provide it."
Discharge day couldn't come fast enough.
I'd called Miguel Santos, a friend from my engineering classes who actually answered his phone when I needed help. Unlike some people.
"Miguel, can you help me with the discharge papers? My legs are still fucked up."
Tyler materialized beside us like a bad smell. "Who the hell is this guy? I'm your fiancé, I should be helping you!"
"Were. You were my fiancé. Miguel, meet my ex. Ex, meet someone who actually gives a damn."
Miguel was built like a linebacker but had the gentlest hands as he helped me navigate the wheelchair. "Whatever you need, Andrea. I got your back."
A small crowd had gathered in the discharge area – other patients, families, nosy nurses.
Perfect.
"Everyone here can witness this," I announced, my voice carrying across the lobby. "Tyler Brooks and I are officially done. No wedding, no relationship, no nothing."
Tyler's face went from red to white to green. "Andrea, you can't be serious! We have history!"
"Yeah, we do. And it's exactly that – history."
"But Andrea—"
"But nothing." I looked him dead in the eye. "You want to play house with my brother and his pet psycho? Go ahead. But you're not doing it on my dime anymore."
Miguel wheeled me toward the exit, past Tyler's slack-jawed expression, past Savannah's crocodile tears, past Ryan's furious glare.
'Round two, motherfuckers. And this time, I'm playing to win.'
The automatic doors slid shut behind us, cutting off Tyler's desperate protests.
Time to rebuild my life.
The right way this time.