Chapter 2: The Day Before Everything
1035 Words
I didn't sleep all night.
How could I? My mind kept replaying three years of memories that hadn't happened yet. Or had already happened.
The grammar of time travel was confusing.
By the time sunlight came through the window, I had made a plan. Simple, straightforward, and most importantly: mine.
First: I withdrew every penny from my bank account. Not much—just the remains of my college fund and the little I'd saved working part-time. But it was mine, and I'd be damned if I let them claim it.
Second: I packed my important documents. Birth certificate, social security card, passport, college records. Things I'd need to start over.
Third: I made copies of everything I could find related to the company's finances. In my previous life I had been too shocked to defend myself. Not this time.
I sat for a long moment staring at the copied files, my hands not entirely steady. The old version of me wanted to put them back, to not make trouble, to wait and see if maybe this time would be different.
I took a breath and kept them.
My phone vibrated. My mother.
"There's a family breakfast. Don't be late."
Just a command. No warmth.
I stared at the message, then replied: I'll be there.
One last performance. I needed to see them with my new eyes. To confirm that my memories were real, that they
really were as monstrous as I remembered.
The Hart family breakfast table was exactly as I remembered it: expensive and cold.
Crystal glasses. Fine china. Organic eggs and artisan bread. Fair trade coffee, perfectly brewed. Everything beautiful.
Everything a lie.
"You're late," my mother said without looking up.
I glanced at the kitchen clock. Five minutes early. But contradicting her would only start an argument, and I needed to conserve my energy.
"I'm sorry, Mom."
The word tasted like ash. I'm sorry. Twenty-five years apologizing for existing.
Sophia bounced into the room, all sunshine and smiles. She was wearing a new designer dress—probably bought
on a company loan that would quietly disappear and somehow land on my tab.
She stopped when she saw me. For a moment—a real moment, not performed—something warm crossed her face.
She crossed the room and hugged me, briefly and tight, the way she used to when we were small.
"Good morning," she said against my shoulder.
I let myself be hugged. I even let myself feel it, for exactly one second.
Then she pulled back and looked at my outfit. "I love what you're wearing. So... simple."
Translation: you look poor.
"Thanks," I said flatly.
My father arrived last, already on a call. He nodded vaguely and sat down without interrupting his conversation.
Numbers, always numbers. In my previous life I had desperately craved his attention. Now I was grateful he ignored
me. It gave me time to observe.
Sophia was nervous. She kept glancing at Dad, her fingers working her necklace. That was new—or rather, I had
never noticed it before. She was building up courage for something.
My mother kept checking her watch, lips pursed.
They were waiting.
"Emma," my father said when he finished his call. "I need you at the office tomorrow morning. Nine o'clock sharp."
There it was.
In my previous life this had seemed so innocent. Just my dad needing help. I had gone eagerly, hoping he finally
wanted to involve me in the family business.
Instead I had walked into an ambush. Security footage of me stealing from the company safe. A coerced confession.
Ethan Cross waiting in the next room with a pre-written marriage contract.
"What for?" I asked, keeping my voice level.
My father's eyes narrowed. I had never questioned him before.
"Does it matter? You work for the family, don't you?"
"Actually, I work at the café. Part-time. For minimum wage." I took a sip of coffee. "I don't have an official position at
Hart Enterprises."
Sophia's fork clattered against her plate.
"Don't be difficult, Emma," my mother snapped. "Your father needs you."
"Then he can tell me what for."
The silence that followed was deafening. My mother looked as if I'd slapped her. Sophia stared at me with wide
eyes. My father's face went red.
"There has been a... discrepancy in the accounts," he finally said, each word clipped. "As a family, we all need to
review the situation."
"A discrepancy." I set my cup down carefully. "How much?"
"Fifty thousand dollars."
I nodded slowly.
"And you need me there because...?"
"Because you had access to the safe," my father's voice was ice. "You're the only one outside management who
had the code."
Ah. Straight to the accusation.
In my previous life, I had been caught off guard. Confused. Desperate to prove my innocence. I'd let them twist my
words until I signed what they wanted just to make it stop.
Not this time.
"I had the code," I agreed. "You gave it to me last month, remember? When you needed me to file those insurance
documents."
I pulled out my phone and opened my calendar.
"Here's the date. And I'm sure there are records of when the safe was accessed. I assume you checked those."
My father's jaw tightened.
"The footage shows you entering the office at midnight two weeks ago."
"Midnight?" I raised an eyebrow. "I work at the café until eleven. Then I go home. My time card and my building's
security footage will confirm that."
Sophia had gone very pale.
"Emma," my mother said, voice dripping with false sweetness. "Why are you being so defensive? We're just trying
to understand what happened."
"Because I'm not stupid, Mom." I stood up, suddenly done with this charade. "You want to accuse me of theft? Fine.
Call the police. File a report. Show them your evidence."
I leaned forward, looking each of them in the eye.
"But I promise you: when they investigate properly, they're going to find some very interesting things."
A phone vibrated. My father grabbed it like a lifeline.
"Excuse me," he muttered, practically running out of the room.
Victory tasted sweet.
But I knew this wasn't over. It was just beginning.
- Writer
