Part 1Seven Years Stolen: I Took Back My Body from the Girl Who Ruined My Life

On the seventh year of my body being stolen, I finally took it back.

"She" had already used my body to get married and become pregnant.

I immediately filed for divorce and terminated the pregnancy.

The news of the marriage collapsing dominated the trending charts, but I couldn't care less.

All I wanted was to find my true love, the man she had left completely broken and covered in scars.

* * *

"Evie, time to wake up." A man looked at me with eyes full of tenderness. He reached out, trying to brush a stray strand of hair from my forehead.

I turned my face away, dodging his touch.

Looking at this man—whom I had been forced to watch for seven years—I spoke with a voice as cold as ice: "Let's get a divorce."

He seemed to freeze, the expression on his face going completely blank.

I didn't care. I stood up, walked over to the window, and reached out my hand to feel the long-lost warmth of the sunlight.

For seven years, ever since my car crash, I had watched that woman invade my body.

She squeezed my soul into a dark corner and banished me from my own life.

Wearing my flesh, she disguised herself as me, basking in the love and pampering of my wealthy family. And worse—she used my actual true love as a stepping stone, a disposable pawn.

She ruthlessly exploited him, greedily draining every drop of blood from his body, before laughing in his face and telling him she didn't love him anymore.

Her love for him had simply "vanished."

I watched, paralyzed and helpless, as my true love spiraled into madness, self-doubt, severe depression, and eventually, attempted to end his own life.

When he was lying in the ICU, murmuring my name through bruised lips, his parents begged her to just come see him once.

But she said: "I have a new boyfriend now. I can't keep stringing my ex along. My new boyfriend is very sensitive; he'd get jealous."

From that moment on, our two families severed all ties. Decades of deep friendship burned to ashes.

Faced with my parents' confusion and suspicion, she deliberately poured gasoline on the fire, actively trying to alienate everyone who truly knew me.

That way, she wouldn't have to keep up the exhausting act of pretending to be me. She could recklessly be herself. She could recklessly use my face, my reputation, and even my creative work to chase after her celebrity crush.

I looked down, surveying my body inch by inch. The calluses on my fingers from years of playing the piano had faded significantly.

Instead, there were flashy, neon-colored acrylic nails covered in rhinestones.

My pin-straight black hair had been dyed and curled into waves.

These were all the parasitic marks she had left on me.

Until my eyes dropped to my slightly swollen lower abdomen. A violent wave of nausea washed over me.

"She" was pregnant.

The initial euphoria of reclaiming my body instantly mutated into absolute disgust. It felt like a bucket of freezing water had been dumped over my head.

A thief and a total stranger had used my body to do the most intimate things two people can do, and then planted the vile result of it inside me.

I picked up the phone from the nightstand, preparing to leave this house immediately. If I stayed in this room for one more second, I was going to burn the whole place down.

Besides, I had something much more important to do.

My true love. The boy I grew up with, Noah Brooks. The man who was so broken I didn't even know if he was dead or alive right now.

I had to find him. I had to tell him that I loved him.

And that the monster who shattered his heart wasn't me.