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I was planning my wedding to Ethan Carter, the man I adored. On the eve of our vows, he burned my family's home to the ground. He wasn't my loving fiancé; he was a monster hell-bent on revenge, blaming my surgeon father for his parents' deaths. He shattered my father's career, bankrupted us, and forced me to become a servant to his cruel new fiancée. He delighted in my suffering, completely unaware of the devastating irony. The heart beating in my chest wasn't my own. It was a transplant, and his relentless torture was causing it to fail. I finally died. But I woke up again, as a child. And this time, my parents remembered the horror too. We spent years building a new, safe life. I even found real love with a kind man named Liam. I was finally happy. Then, yesterday, the man who murdered me walked into my classroom, his eyes full of regret, convinced our story deserved a second chance.