Blurb：
**Clara Rothwell** knew two truths after **reliving her murderous car crash** : her mother **Helen** wanted her dead, and **law school** wouldn't save her from **family betrayal**. But when **time rewound** to **Grandfather George's courtroom disaster**, she wielded silence like a blade. Let **Golden Child Graham** and **Jenna** - the **viper in designer heels** - abandon **Margaret** and **Robert** during **Grandpa's sex crime trial**. Let them **board that Hawaii flight** while the **judge's gavel** condemned George. This **legal prodigy-turned-spectator** savored **orange juice and Godiva cake** as the **Rothwell dynasty** crumbled.
Now, **Helen's slaps** mean nothing. **Jenna's crocodile tears** can't salvage **Grandma's disinheritance**. And **Graham's Ivy League arrogance** won't erase **coroner reports** proving he killed George. Every **courtroom lie**, every **maternal curse**, every **Hawaiian shopping bag** fuels Clara's **vengeance manifesto**. But when **Dad's divorce papers** hit and **Aunt Cathy** plays the **truth-teller**, whose **rebirth** truly begins? **Time-looping lawyers** meet **doomed patriarchs** in this **incendiary family saga** where **"I’ll teach you a lesson"** takes on lethal new meaning.
Content：
§PROLOGUEThe last thing I saw was my mother’s face.
It was a mask of pure, unadulterated hatred, illuminated by the blinding glare of headlights.
The squeal of tires on asphalt was the soundtrack to my final moments, a piercing shriek that tore through the night.
Then came the impact.
A horrific symphony of crunching metal and shattering bone.
My body was a rag doll, thrown into the air with violent indifference.
For a suspended moment, there was no pain, only a strange, floating calm as the world tumbled around me.
Then, through the spiderweb cracks of the windshield, I saw her again.
Her expression wasn't one of shock or regret.
It was… satisfaction.
As my world faded to black, a single, venomous phrase she had screamed echoed in the void.
“You deserve to die, you ungrateful bitch!”
§01
I woke up with a gasp, my own scream caught in my throat.
My sheets were soaked, plastered to my skin with a cold, slick sweat.
My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird, frantic and wild.
The phantom pain of the impact still radiated through my limbs, a chilling echo of a death I had somehow survived.
Slowly, my ragged breathing evened out.
I took in the familiar sight of my bedroom: the pale moonlight filtering through the blinds, the stack of law books on my nightstand, the faint scent of lavender from the diffuser.
I was alive. I was whole. I was safe.
It was a dream. A terrifyingly vivid nightmare.
Just as the thought began to soothe my frayed nerves, my phone buzzed on the nightstand.
A jolt of ice-cold dread shot through me, so potent it felt like a physical blow.
I knew that buzz. I knew that exact timing.
My hand trembled as I reached for the phone. The screen lit up, displaying a notification from my boss at the law firm.
“Clara, we’ve just taken on a new plaintiff. The firm has assigned you as her counsel.”
Simultaneously, another call came in. An unknown number.
My blood ran cold.
This wasn’t a dream. This was a memory.
A memory of the day my life ended, playing out again, beat for horrifying beat.
Last time, I had answered both. I had taken the case, eager to prove myself. I had answered the call, desperate to help my family.
Last time, I had played the part of the dutiful daughter, the diligent lawyer.
It got me a lifetime of betrayal, culminating in a death sentence delivered by my own mother.
This time, I let the phone ring until it fell silent.
I ignored the message from my boss.
With a calmness that terrified even myself, I swung my legs out of bed, walked to the kitchen, and pulled a carton of orange juice from the fridge.
I was a spectator now.
And the show was just about to begin.
§02
My grandmother, Margaret, emerged from her room, her face a mask of disapproval as she saw me lounging on the sofa, scrolling through my phone.
The half-eaten slice of Godiva chocolate cake on the coffee table only deepened her scowl.
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The End