Chapter 1Thirty Days In Your Skin

The scholarship student my family sponsored, Samantha Russo, used some twisted, dark occult ritual to swap bodies with me.

In my last life, I cried and screamed, begging anyone who would listen to believe that I was the real Eleanor Beaumont, the true daughter of the house.

But my parents didn’t believe me. My fiancé didn’t believe me.

They looked at me like a lunatic and locked me away in a psychiatric ward. Later, when the institutional money ran out, Samantha had me discharged into the hands of traffickers. I was sold into the deep, forgotten pockets of the Rust Belt. I was locked in a basement by a sadistic drifter who shattered my arms and legs, torturing me to death in the damp dark.

It was only after I died that I learned the rule: the body swap only lasted for thirty days.

When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the very first day of the swap.

* * *

I walked over to the mirror. The glass reflected a face that was plain and profoundly timid.

Rough skin. Dull, brittle hair.

It was Samantha Russo, the charity case my parents had funded since middle school.

The sickening crunch of breaking bones echoed in my ears. The metallic, wet stench of the dirt cellar rushed into my sinuses.

In my previous life, I had woken up in this exact spot.

I had run out like a madwoman, grabbing my mother by the shoulders, screaming over and over, "I am Eleanor, it’s me, I’m your daughter."

All it earned me were sedatives and the leather restraints of a psych ward bed.

And then came that windowless room, the perpetual darkness, and the agonizing shatter of my own limbs.

I closed my eyes and waited for the violent churning in my chest to subside.

Right on cue, the bedroom door swung open.

Samantha walked in, wearing my face, my clothes, my life.

Seeing me standing there—neither crying nor screaming—she looked almost disappointed.

"Why so quiet?" she taunted. "Aren't you going to run out there and tell Richard and Margaret that you're the real Eleanor?"

I looked at her. "You already secured that fully funded doctoral fellowship. As long as you graduate normally, you’ll have a brilliant career. Why did you have to steal my life?"

Samantha scoffed. "What good is a fellowship? You study for a decade just to end up working as someone else's employee."

She glanced down at the diamond tennis bracelet on her wrist—"my" wrist. "But you... you're different. You don't have to lift a finger, and the best things in the world are just handed to you on a silver platter."

She smirked. "Looking at yourself now, don't you want to switch back?"

When I didn't answer, she laughed. "Not that throwing a tantrum would help. I have a hundred ways to get you kicked out of the Beaumont estate."

"Kicked out."

Hearing those words, the invisible wire pulled taut around my ribs suddenly went slack.

She only wanted to kick me out. She didn’t think she needed to kill me yet.

Which meant she had absolutely no idea about the thirty-day rule.

If that was the case... this was going to be fun.

...

At dinner, my mother used her fork to slide a fresh, raw oyster onto Samantha's plate.

"Here you go, Ellie. Your absolute favorite. Have some more."

Samantha's hand, holding her oyster fork, froze in mid-air.

I had loved oysters on the half-shell since I was a little girl. Samantha despised them.

She used to complain to the kitchen staff, saying the texture was slimy and swallowing them made her gag.

But my mother was looking at her with a warm, expectant smile.

Samantha had no choice but to scoop it up and swallow it. By the time it went down, her smile was rigid and green around the edges.

My father didn’t notice. He was too busy discussing her upcoming trip to Europe.

"The paperwork is all set. After you head over next month, just focus on your art history courses. There’s no rush to join the family firm. You can take your time learning the ropes when you get back."

Samantha's eyes lit up. "Thank you, Dad."

My father smiled and nodded, then turned his gaze to me. "Samantha, your Ph.D. fellowship has been finalized, hasn't it?"

"Yes."

"You’ve always been such a driven girl. Our investment in you wasn't for nothing. Keep studying hard; you have a bright future ahead of you."

My mother chimed in, "You're not afraid of hard work, dear. Once you graduate, you'll make a wonderful life for yourself."

I gripped my soup spoon. It took me a long time to say, "Thank you, Mr. Beaumont. Thank you, Mrs. Beaumont."

They were taking the future that rightfully belonged to me and handing it to Samantha, piece by piece. But what truly made my throat ache was the genuine kindness they were showing "Samantha" in this moment.

All these years, they had truly, earnestly wanted her to succeed.

Half an hour after dinner, chaos erupted upstairs.

Samantha claimed her pink diamond pendant was missing.

It was the necklace my father had won at auction for my eighteenth birthday. It was worth half a million dollars.

The housekeeper hesitated before speaking. "This afternoon... I believe I saw Miss Russo going into your bedroom, Miss Eleanor."

Every eye in the room turned to me.

I didn't defend myself. "If you suspect me, search my room."

My mother was the first to frown, instinctively stepping in front of me to shield me.

"Impossible. Samantha has lived with us for years. She isn't that kind of girl. Ellie, sweetie, are you sure you didn't just misplace it?"

Samantha clearly hadn't expected this. She stiffened, then quickly lowered her head. "Then... I suppose we can keep looking."

Ten minutes later, the housekeeper pulled the pink diamond out of the hidden lining of my suitcase.

The living room went dead silent.

My mother stared at the necklace for a long, agonizing moment before turning to me. "Why? Eleanor has always treated you like a sister. We have never mistreated you."

Her voice cracked. "If you really wanted something, couldn't you have just asked me?"

In that split second, the words almost tore out of my throat: "Mom, it’s me. I am Eleanor."

But as the words hit the back of my teeth, I saw Samantha staring at me, her eyes manic, practically salivating for me to break down. She was waiting for me to cry and beg them to believe me, just like I had in my last life.

I swallowed the words down like broken glass.

"I'm sorry."

The anticipation on Samantha's face shattered. She quickly looped her arm through my mother's.

"Mom, let it go. The necklace is back. Samantha probably just had a moment of weakness. I don't want to ruin her life over this."

My father sighed heavily. "This ends here. Samantha, do not ever let this happen again."

They still wanted to sweep it under the rug for her.

I lifted my head. "Call the police."

My father froze. "What?"

"I stole it, and I admit it. If I did something wrong, it should be handled according to the law."

"Samantha, don't throw a tantrum," my father’s face darkened. "That necklace is incredibly valuable. If there is an official police record, the university will find out. Your fellowship could be revoked."

I watched Samantha's eyes flare with dark delight at the word "revoked."

"I know," I said. "Call the police."

Twenty minutes later, the cruisers arrived.

Because the necklace had been recovered and the Beaumont family explicitly refused to press charges, a formal case wasn't opened. However, the dispatch record and the preliminary police inquiry were officially logged.

Before leaving, the officer looked at me. "You are confirming that you took the item?"

"I confirm it."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Samantha standing by the staircase. The screen of her phone was glowing.

She was recording the audio.

After the police left, my parents instructed the staff that not a single word of tonight's events was to leave the house.

My mother rubbed her temples, looking exhausted. "The girl still has to finish her degree. Let's not completely destroy her future over one terrible mistake."

Samantha leaned sweetly against her shoulder. "Don't worry, Mom. I won't say a word to anyone."

I glanced at her.

Of course she would. She would be the first one in line to spill the secret.