The camera flashes were blinding.
Harriet Smith stood at the edge of the red carpet, dressed in silver silk and secrets, smiling as if her world wasn't crumbling beneath the heels of her stilettos. Her gown shimmered like moonlight on broken glass. Every click of the shutter was a lie frozen in time—a photo of a woman pretending she still belonged here.
But she didn't. Not anymore.
Tonight wasn't just another premiere. It was the night she would die.
The whispers had grown louder in recent weeks: Harriet Smith, the rising star turned scandal queen. Fraud. Cheater. Homewrecker. Her face had gone from the cover of Vogue to the front page of gossip sites soaked in venom.
She knew they were coming for her.
She just didn't know it would be tonight.
—
The afterparty dripped with luxury—crystal chandeliers, glittering champagne towers, hollow laughter. Harriet wandered through it all like a ghost haunting her own life. Eyes followed her, sharp and cruel. No one said a word to her, not really. They offered fake smiles and empty greetings, but they had already buried her with their silence.
She spotted him across the room—Zayne Carter, leaning against the bar in a tailored black suit like it had been stitched from shadows. His eyes, cold and unreadable, locked on her. She froze.
They'd met only once, briefly, months ago.
She had no idea why he was here.
Zayne raised his glass toward her in a silent toast, as if he knew something no one else did.
It chilled her.
She turned away.
She shouldn't have.
—
"Harriet," came a voice she knew too well. Warm. Familiar. Poison.
Her fiancé—Leo Hart.
He approached with his movie-star grin and a hand gently touching her elbow, like they were still in love. Like he hadn't just sold her soul for his own survival.
"You look…stunning tonight," he said.
Harriet didn't answer. She stared at him—really stared—and realized she didn't recognize the man she once swore to marry. His hand was too cold. His eyes too sharp. And his smile… too rehearsed.
"What do you want, Leo?" she asked.
His voice lowered. "I tried to protect you, I did. But they wanted blood, and you were the easiest one to bleed."
There it was. The final cut.
She stepped back, heart pounding. "You gave them the documents, didn't you? You let them frame me."
Leo's jaw clenched. "I didn't have a choice. You should've known better than to trust anyone in this town."
She slapped him.
The sound rang through the room. Conversations stopped. People turned.
Harriet didn't care.
Let them watch.
Let them see the beginning of her end.
—
Later that night, she stood alone on the rooftop of the event hotel. The wind tugged at her hair, whispering apologies too late. Below, Los Angeles sparkled like a million shattered dreams.
Her phone buzzed. Another message from her agent:
"You've been dropped from the film. They've pulled everything. I'm sorry."
She dropped the phone. It clattered against the concrete, screen cracked—like her.
She heard the door open behind her.
Footsteps.
Familiar ones.
"Please don't," she whispered without turning. "Not tonight."
But fate was never kind.
A second pair of footsteps joined the first.
Voices arguing in hushed tones.
Her breath caught.
She turned slowly.
Her best friend—Aubrey—stood there, eyes red, mascara streaked.
"You were never supposed to survive this long," Aubrey said, voice breaking. "It was supposed to be a quiet scandal. You were supposed to disappear, Harriet."
"And you were supposed to be my sister," Harriet whispered.
Aubrey lunged. Harriet stumbled backward, her heel catching the edge.
She teetered.
Hands reached for her—too late.
Harriet fell.
The night swallowed her scream.
—
Time stopped.
But she didn't die right away.
She felt the wind slicing her skin, the gravity pulling her down like guilt. In those final seconds, Harriet saw everything she had ignored—Leo's lies, Aubrey's jealousy, the whispers that were warnings.
And one last image burned into her mind.
Zayne Carter.
Standing on the rooftop's edge above, eyes locked with hers as she fell.
No shock. No panic.
Just… knowing.
Like he'd seen this death before.
---
Black.
Silence.
Then—
A heartbeat.
—
She gasped.
Her eyes flew open, lungs on fire.
She wasn't dead.
Not anymore.
She was in her bed.
But not the one she'd had before she died. Not the sleek apartment she bought after her third film. No. This was the tiny studio she rented three years ago—before the fame, before Leo, before the lies.
Her heart pounded.
The mirror across the room showed her reflection.
Younger. Unscarred. Her eyes wide with panic and confusion.
Her trembling fingers reached for the calendar on the wall.
March 4th.
A full year before her death.
"What the hell…" she whispered, backing into the wall, staring at her hands as if they belonged to someone else.
And then, slowly, a cruel, bitter smile curved her lips.
She remembered everything.
Leo's betrayal. Aubrey's push. The lie that killed her career. The pain. The fall.
They took everything from her.
Now she would take it back.
And if fate had given her this second chance...
She would become the villain they should've feared the first time.
---