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I died in a federal prison, framed for corporate espionage. My last sight was the man who put me there, Ethan Scott, laughing on a TV screen, celebrating his new life with my stepsister, Stella Chadwick. He' d stolen my inheritance, my freedom, and my future, leaving me to rot for a crime I didn' t commit. Every breath I took in that cell was laced with a hatred so profound, it almost tasted metallic. But then, I gasped, sucking in the scent of expensive leather instead of stale concrete. I was back, seated at the head of the boardroom, staring at the corporate empire that was my birthright. Ethan Scott stood there, smug and charismatic, ready to play his old game. He even brought Stella, holding her hand, demanding a "triumvirate" for a company I inherited from my father. In my past life, I fell for his lies, his emotional blackmail, his manipulative performance. I was blinded by a warped sense of love and loyalty. But not this time. This time, I felt a cold, sharp clarity. Because I remembered everything.