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The screech of tires, the smell of burnt coffee, and then... I was back. Not in the mangled wreckage of my car, but in my college dorm room, sunshine streaming through the window. My roommate, Maya, stood by the mirror, a saccharine smile plastered on her face. She was wearing a flimsy, cheap imitation of my bespoke silk dress. A jolt of pure terror and disbelief shot through me. The date on my phone confirmed it: September 5th. I had somehow returned, almost a full year before the catastrophic "accident" that ended my life. That "accident" was caused by Maya, who loosened the brake lines on my convertible. In my first life, this moment unfolded in silence. I chose to hide my identity as Chloe Thorne, tech heiress, striving for normalcy. My quiet tolerance, my desperate wish to be liked, ultimately sealed my fate. Her voice, already dripping with poisoned honey, was the same one that would systematically dismantle my reputation. It was the same voice that ultimately led to my very existence being ended. The unfairness of it all, the knowledge of what was to come, made my heart pound like a trapped bird. How could I have been so blind, so foolishly kind, that it led to my own demise? The memory of her betrayal, her crocodile tears, fueled a cold, resolute fire within. I was no longer the girl who would silently endure her manipulations. I had been given a second chance, a rare, chilling gift. There was no room for niceties, no space for the old, naive Chloe. As Maya turned, expecting my usual placid response, I sat up, my gaze unwavering. "Take it off," I commanded, my voice entirely devoid of warmth. This time, I would write my own ending, on my own terms.