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I was three months pregnant when my Austin penthouse became my tomb. My boyfriend, Liam, pushed me from the balcony, a fall swift and final. My death was staged as a tragic suicide, a lie the news readily swallowed. They didn't know the real reason: Daisy, a coyote pup I'd rescued, could shift into a beautiful woman. Liam couldn't let that secret out, and now I watched my killers, my spirit haunting the home I' d paid for. He pulled Daisy into his arms, sharing a passionate kiss right where my lifeless body had fallen. "She's gone," Liam whispered, "It's all ours now." They slandered my name, seized my family' s oil fortune, and buried me in a cheap wooden box. Then, on my family ranch, over my desecrated grave, Liam confessed: "I only dated her to give you this life, Daisy. Chloe owed you this." I burned with a rage so consuming, it felt like my very soul was on fire. And then, I woke up, back in my Range Rover, the Texas storm roaring outside, faced with Daisy once more.