The President's Downfall: A Second Chance at Revenge

From the back cover

The cold gurney, the execution chamber ceiling, then a familiar, hateful face: Kevin, my ex-fiancé, the President.

He was there to watch me die, bloodshot eyes, rumpled suit, looking deranged.

Treason, they said. A lie so colossal it had already swallowed my father, my sister, my entire family.

His whispered words were a final, chilling insult: "I found her, you know. Crystal. She was happy. You took her from me. You murdered the woman I loved."

My vision blurred as the lethal cocktail burned, my tongue heavy with the truth I couldn't speak – that I' d saved Crystal, not hidden her for myself.

His face, twisted with a grief entirely his own twisted invention, was the last thing I saw before blackness swallowed me.

Then, a gasp tore from my lungs, and I was bolt upright in my own silk sheets, sunlight streaming into my Georgetown townhouse.

My phone buzzed. Kevin. The date on the screen made my blood run cold: today was the day he was supposed to run off with Crystal Vance.

My "first life" had begun its nosedive on this very day.

This time, it would be different. This time, I knew the enemy. And this time, I would not be merciful.