VANESSA BELMONT
I woke up in my bedroom at the Belmont Estate.
The scent of jasmine from the garden drifted through the open window, soft and familiar. Henry, my orange tabby, was sprawled across my pillow, his fuzzy head resting against mine. His loud purr vibrated against my cheek.
Ohmygodohmygodohmygod.
I died. Again.
Again?
Really?
I sat up so fast Henry let out an indignant mrrp before flopping onto the mattress with a disgruntled flick of his tail. I grabbed my phone off the nightstand. Yep. Six months until my wedding to Nathan Jang.
"I'm re-reborn," I whispered.
Another do-over? But I hadn't seen the pink sparkles this time—the strange, glittering haze that had ushered me into my second life. Did that matter? No. Because the important part was this: Fiona Grand had killed me again.
That bitch.
How was this my life? Well, my third life, to be exact.
