Part 1All the Ways We Outlived Him

The afternoon I slipped into this miserable, pulp-paper universe, Harrison Brooks was in the middle of tossing a withdrawal petition across the mahogany table into Tessa Miller’s face.

"Trading your brother’s life support for a room in my penthouse? If anything, sweetheart, you’re coming out ahead."

In the original plot, this was the exact afternoon Tessa’s life turned to ash.

From this day forward, Harrison would drag her through every circle of psychological hell, stripping away her dignity until she finally jumped from a terrace into the gray oblivion of the Hudson River—only for him to experience that sickening, too-late epiphany authors love to call eternal remorse.

I caught my reflection in the mirrored glass of the penthouse office.

Perfect.

I hadn’t landed in the body of an innocent bystander. I was Audrey Mercer: the vicious, diamond-crusted socialite who had aided and abetted Tessa’s public ruin, driven her to the ledge, and ultimately ended up zipped into a weighted duffel bag and dumped off the continental shelf to feed the bottom-feeders.

Standing by the heavy walnut door, looking at the hollow-cheeked, trembling girl across the room, an echo of a line from the early chapters drifted back to me. A memory of Tessa in high school, eyes bright with fierce, unvarnished conviction: I’m going to make detective. I’m going to take predators like him off the street.

I let out a slow, sharp laugh and pushed the door open.

"Didn't I make it clear she was going on my payroll, Harrison?" I drawled, stepping into the climate-controlled silence. "Since when do you pick through my cast-offs?"

Tessa’s head snapped up. Her eyes were bloodshot, ringed in bruised violet, brimming with hatred, guarded terror, and a sliver of desperate confusion she didn't want to admit was there.

Harrison’s smug smirk froze. It took him three full seconds to smooth his bespoke lapels, his brow knitting into a sharp scowl. "Audrey, I indulge your little tantrums ninety percent of the time. Don't play games with me today."

I casually scooped the withdrawal forms off the desk, folded them in half, and tore them down the middle.

"Who’s playing?" I let the scraps flutter into the wastebasket. "To be completely candid, I’ve had my eye on her resume for months. Having a top-of-the-class cadet running my personal errands gives me an incredible sense of superiority."

Harrison’s stare turned glacial. "Her kid brother is on an ECMO machine at Mount Sinai waiting for clearance on a high-risk arterial graft. I don't have the patience for your vanity projects."

I glanced down at the medical estimate resting beside his crystal tumbler.

To Harrison Brooks, heirs to private equity empires, that six-figure total was an afterthought—a rounding error on an offshore account. To Tessa Miller, working three graveyard shifts between criminal justice seminars, it was an insurmountable mountain of debt. In the book, this was the precise noose he used to break her spine.

I dropped a leather-bound folder onto the blotter with a heavy, deliberate thud.

"The Mercer Foundation will cover Toby’s pediatric surgery," I said cleanly. "In full. But starting today, Tessa answers exclusively to me."

Tessa looked down at the first page of my agreement.

Party A agrees to fund all specialized interventions, therapeutics, and hospital overhead for Toby Miller, disbursed directly into an irrevocable escrow account overseen by Mount Sinai’s compliance board on a scheduled monthly basis.

Harrison’s lip curled into a venomous sneer. "Tessa, you sign that piece of vanity paper, and I swear to God I’ll blackball every pediatric surgical team from Boston to Baltimore. No one touches your brother."

I was waiting for that exact sentence. I tilted the sleek brass cylinder of my voice recorder, tapping the glowing red diode against the palm of my hand.

"Say that into the mic, Harrison? I’d love to see how the SEC and the state attorney general digest a billionaire heir coercing a penniless undergrad into sexual servitude. The New York tabloids would have a field day. Want to test my PR firm?"

The silence stretched thin, brittle as spun sugar.

Trembling so violently the nib tore through the paper fiber, Tessa signed her name on the dotted line.

When the ink dried, she looked up at me, her voice cracked at the seams. "My brother’s bypass..."

I gestured toward the corporate attorney standing quietly by the door.

Eleanor crossed the room and laid an iPad before the girl. "Miss Miller, the initial retainer has cleared the Mount Sinai administrative escrow. The surgical team is officially prepped for tomorrow morning. Every transaction, protocol, and clinical entry is time-stamped and legally protected."

Tessa gripped the edges of the tablet, and a single, heavy tear finally slipped over her lashes.

Harrison ground his molars so hard I could hear the enamel pop. "You’re going to regret this, Audrey."

"Regret what?" I countered, cutting him off before he could muster another breath. "Regret interfering with a felony in progress? Oh, pardon me—attempted coercion, technically. Though you certainly gave it your all."

He let out a guttural scoff, straightened his cuff links, and stormed toward the private elevator, throwing one last barb over his shoulder: "Let's see if that smart mouth stays attached to your face when this blows up."

Once the elevator chimed shut, Tessa turned the page of the contract.

Her eyes caught on the second sheet, and she stopped dead.

Clause 1: Party B shall not voluntarily forfeit or suspend enrollment in the State Police Academy or associated criminal justice degree programs.

Clause 2: Party B shall execute no non-disclosure agreements, settlement waivers, cohabitation pacts, personal loans, or restrictive servitude covenants without the verified, written review of independent legal counsel.

Tessa stared at the black-and-white print, bewildered, her voice trembling between defense and shock. "What... what is this?"

I crossed my arms, adopting my most bored, imperious sneer. "Standard operating rules for my personal lackey. You got an issue with that? You’re on my leash now, Miller. That means you do what I tell you."

Her spine snapped rigid, the fierce cadet bleeding back into her gaze. "Don't push me, Audrey Mercer."

I smiled thinly. "You think this is pushing? Oh, sweetheart, you haven't seen anything yet."