Chapter 3

My thoughts snapped back to the present.

I looked at Brandon through Freya's eyes and gave him the worst smile I could manage:

"You idiot. I was obviously lying to you!"

"Those photos of Caitlin were AI fakes I made myself. I'm the one carrying some random guy's baby!"

"I made you kill your own child with your own hands, and then handed you someone else's kid to raise without any of the pain."

"If you think about it, you're actually getting a pretty good deal!"

Brandon's face cycled from pale to dark. The veins at his temples bulged.

His eyes took on something terrifying.

At that moment, Freya's soul started fighting to reclaim her body. She screamed inside my head like something unhinged:

"Caitlin! You disgusting piece of trash! Get out of my body right now!"

Since this was my first time possessing someone, my hold on her soul was unstable. The world spun violently and I was forced out.

Freya, freshly back in control of her own body, burst into tears — the kind that looked beautiful and heartbreaking.

She grabbed Brandon's arm and rushed to explain:

"Brandon, none of those words were mine!"

"It was Caitlin — that awful woman — she died but she still..."

She caught herself mid-sentence, seemed to remember something, and quickly changed her story:

"She's taking revenge on me. I don't know what kind of dark trick she used to take over my body and make me say those things."

She took Brandon's hand and pressed it against her small round belly:

"She's jealous that I'm carrying your child. She's trying to tear us apart on purpose!"

The mention of the baby smoothed out Brandon's furrowed brow immediately:

"I knew it. You're too good and too sweet for any of that. Of course it's my child. It has to be Caitlin stirring things up!"

Seeing Brandon buy the story, Freya let out a deep, quiet breath of relief.

Her brother John, sitting in his wheelchair, clenched his fist and spat:

"Even locked up, she's still scheming against people. And here we were, spending a fortune to make sure the guards treated her well — practically turning her prison sentence into a vacation. She doesn't know how good she had it!"

"I want nothing to do with a sister this vicious!"

"She should have died in that prison!"

I floated there above them, feeling nothing but a dark, hollow absurdity.

They had conspired together to put me behind bars with fabricated evidence.

And yet they expected me to bow down in gratitude to the very people who destroyed my life.

It had only been a few days after my miscarriage when Freya, drunk behind the wheel, ran someone over — then deliberately reversed and ran over the body again before fleeing the scene.

When it all came to light, she cried and sobbed and said it wasn't her fault. The victim had stepped in front of her on purpose, trying to extort money from her.

She was scared. She couldn't go to prison.

And just like that, without a second thought, the whole family pointed their finger at me.

My parents wrapped their arms around Freya and acted like it was the most natural thing in the world:

"Freya was raised to be pampered. She couldn't survive prison."

"Caitlin, your sister has spent over twenty years being devoted to this family in your place. You owe her everything."

"Going to prison for her is the least you can do to repay that debt."

My brother John hated me for what he believed I'd done — hiring someone to break both his legs, leaving him in a wheelchair for the rest of his life. He wanted me to suffer, so he supported sending me to prison without hesitation.

And Brandon — he used the gentlest voice to say the cruelest things:

"Caitlin, you're already damaged. A little more damage doesn't matter. I won't think less of you for it."

"But if Freya goes to prison, her whole life is ruined."

Even now, even dead, there was still a gaping hole where my heart should have been.

The hatred was so overwhelming it launched me straight back into Freya. I shoved her soul out and took back control of her body.

I wiped away the tears Freya had just been crying, drew back my foot, and kicked hard enough to nearly send John's wheelchair toppling. I laughed through the tears still clinging to my face:

"You are so irreparably stupid!"

"Use that tiny little brain of yours and think! Caitlin had no grudge against you. She had no money. Why would she ever hire someone to break your legs?"