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Chapter 6
The Collins and Clark families had been friends for generations. Bay and I grew up together, practically inseparable since the day we
were born.
By the time we turned eighteen, we were officially a couple. We went to school together, studied together, did everything side by side.
Until he met Judith.
He called her his “soulmate” and completely cast me aside.
Gifts I had once given him were repackaged and passed on to her like recycled trash.
And it wasn’t until they stood together in my past life, condemning me in front of the world, that I realized just how far they’d gone behind my back.
It was true I had lent Bay my car more than once.
If this wasn’t the first crash, how had they covered up the previous ones?
My mind spun wildly, trying to untangle the truth, grasping at any possible escape route.
The female officer stayed quietly beside me, sensing my turmoil.
A young officer rushed in moments later, a glint of excitement in his eyes.
Good news or bad news first?” he asked.
My head was pounding, palms cold and damp. I could barely speak as I muttered, “The good news.”
“The good news is you’re no longer under immediate suspicion. That stunt you pulled with Ethan Howard? It went viral. The timing checks out–you’ve got a rock–solid alibi.”
Relief bloomed in my chest. I leaned forward. “And the bad news?”
“The bad news is… the internet’s on fire. The ones invested in the accident and Ethan’s fans? They’re at war. You’re trending everywhere.”
I gave a broken, helpless laugh.
The officer gave me a pat on the back. “Still, at least you’re out of the hot seat–for now.”
But the families of the victims weren’t ready to let it go. They stood outside the station, screaming,
“She faked the alibi! Even if she was in the hotel at midnight, who’s to say she didn’t sneak out the window to drive? That’s her car. That’s her in the footage!”
I was allowed to go home, but under strict monitoring.
The moment we stepped inside, both my parents collapsed from the shock.
Thankfully, we had a live–in doctor and household staff, otherwise I didn’t know how we’d have survived that night.
We huddled inside the house, forbidden to go out. The house felt like it was under siege.
The next morning, my father forced himself to his feet, making call after call, trying to limit the damage to the company.
My mother was too shaken, she’d fallen ill entirely.
Isat in the study, trying to wrap my head around it.
How did they do it?” I whispered. “How did they make it look like I was at the scene?”
I messaged the female officer, then replayed the crash footage on loop, forcing myself to study it through gritted teeth. Again. And again.
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The driver’s build, the hairstyle, the clothes, every detail screamed me.
No wonder I couldn’t find a single flaw in the evidence during my last life.
My father appeared behind me, clutching his chest as he gently patted my shoulder.
“I believe you, sweetheart,” he said softly. “Don’t carry this alone. I’m here, always.”
I buried myself in his embrace. I couldn’t afford to lose that warmth again.
And then, on the hundredth replay, I froze.
I hit pause. There. That movement.
The driver tucked her hair behind her ear… with her left hand, reaching over her right shoulder.
I did that too. But only one other person I knew had that exact habit: Judith.
She and I were close in build and height.
She had taken my car.
I pulled up our home’s exterior security footage, finally catching the exact moment she drove off in it.
Even though she wore my clothes, the high–res cameras caught her face clearly.
No matter how much she resembled me, she wasn’t me.
I sent the footage straight to the officer.
She replied immediately: [We’ll open a full investigation.]
Judith had deliberately posed as me. She wanted this mess to land on my head.
Of course, the car only showed my DNA. They must’ve worn gloves. Smart and cruel.
Still, that 10 p.m. footage alone wasn’t enough. Not yet.
Suddenly, a new idea hit me. I messaged the officer again with the lead, and she promised to dig into it.
For the first time in days, I let myself sleep.
Two hours later, I woke up to chaos.
My parents were trembling in each other’s arms, the housekeeper nearly ready to swing a broom like a bat.
Outside, a crowd had gathered.
Some of them were angry fans, throwing rotten eggs at our door.
Some were grieving families or enraged netizens, laying wreaths.
My parents were too terrified to step outside. I watched through the peephole, dizzy from the sight.
Even if I was innocent, there was no easy way to wash off this stain.
Once people had a reason to hate you, they rarely cared about the truth.
Outside, the shouting escalated.
“Come out and apologize to Ethan!”
“Get out here and die already!”
“Shut up!” a girl’s voice shouted from the crowd. “She was at the hotel with our idol at midnight! I’ve got the photos!”
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“Liar! You fan girls will say anything. She killed eight people.”
“Excuse me? I’d recognize that woman even if she was reduced to ashes. I saw the way Ethan was terrified of her–don’t tell me that
wasn’t her.”
“You’re blind. The driver’s hair is a different shade, the wave is off. And look–she didn’t even have manicured nails. That’s not her.”
I stood there, shaking.
Details even I hadn’t noticed were being dissected and debated.
And most of them pointed to Judith.
The crowd was divided, but united in one thing: their hatred of me.
The investigation was progressing, but painfully slow. Each day felt like a year.
Until day five, Ethan released a statement.
