Chapter 1The Magician Who Stole Reality

My boyfriend dragged me to a magic show, and as luck would have it, he was chosen as the volunteer for the grand finale—the Vanishing Act.

The crowd roared with applause when he disappeared right before their eyes. I slipped out to the restroom for a quick minute, but when I returned, he still hadn't reappeared.

When I asked the staff where the volunteers go after the show, they looked at me like I was speaking a dead language. They claimed there was no "Vanishing Act" on the program tonight.

Worse, a complete stranger was sitting in my boyfriend’s seat.

The people around me insisted, with eerie synchronicity, that I had come to the show alone. But I knew the truth. We came together. He couldn't just evaporate.

I caused a scene, screaming for the organizers to give me an answer, until the police were finally called. They searched every inch of the theater and checked every ID, but there wasn't a trace of him.

I tried to show them the photos on my phone—the selfies of us in the lobby, the candid shots of him laughing—but they were gone. Every single one. Deleted, as if he had never existed at all.

My parents called me a psychotic. They washed their hands of me. In a daze of grief and confusion, I wandered into traffic and felt the bone-shattering impact of a car.

Then, I blinked.

I was back. Back at the theater. Back on the day he took me to the show.

* * *

"Cass, come on! What are you staring at? The show’s about to start and we can't be late."

Ben grabbed my hand, pulling me toward the entrance of the grand theater.

My heart was hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. The realization hit me with the force of a physical blow: I was back. I had been given a second chance.

Ben Montgomery had been my world for five years. He was the kind of guy who spent his weekends perfecting card tricks just to see me smile. This tour by the legendary illusionist, Victor Blackwood, was something he’d been obsessed with for months.

In my past life, I’d gone just to make him happy. I never could have imagined the nightmare that would follow.

Ben vanishing into thin air. The world collective-forgetting he ever lived. The digital erasure of our entire history. It was as if a giant, invisible hand had reached down after that magic show and scrubbed his existence from the fabric of reality.

And I, the only one who remembered, was branded a lunatic.

Ben stopped abruptly, turning to look at me with those warm, worried eyes.

"Cass? You okay? You’ve been quiet since we parked. That’s not like you."

I bit my lip, my throat tight. "Ben... what if we don't go? What if we just go grab dinner instead?"

The pain of losing him was still a raw, screaming thing in my mind. If we didn't enter that theater, he wouldn't disappear. I couldn't survive that kind of heartbreak twice.

Ben looked stunned, his face falling. "But I’ve been waiting for this forever. Victor Blackwood is the reason I even picked up a deck of cards, Cass. He’s my hero."

He sighed, seeing my distress. "Look, if you’re really not feeling it, I can go alone. I’m the one who should be making it up to you anyway, dragging you to this."

I took a shaky breath. I couldn't tell him the truth—he’d think I was the crazy person everyone said I was. But I knew Ben. His obsession with magic was deep-seated; he wouldn't stay away. And I couldn't let him go alone.

I had to play dirty.

"Ben, my stomach... it really hurts."

I hunched over, clutching my midsection, forcing a grimace of agony. I made sure my knees buckled slightly.

"What? Cass! What's wrong?" He was at my side in an instant, his hands steadying me.

"I think my gastritis is flaring up," I groaned. "It feels like I swallowed a hot coal."

I’d had stomach issues in the past, so the performance was easy to sell. Ben’s face twisted with genuine panic.

I waved a hand weakly, a pale imitation of a brave smile. "It’s okay. Go ahead. You’ve wanted this for so long. Just go. I’ll take an Uber to the ER. Don't worry about me."

Even as the words left my mouth, I felt like a master manipulator. A "green tea bitch," as some might say.

Ben’s gaze flickered between the theater doors and me. Then, he didn't even hesitate. He turned his back on the theater.

"The show can wait. There’s only one Cassidy Miller in the world."

A wave of warmth flooded my chest. Ben was a good man. He always put me first. It was why I had gone mad searching for him in that other life. We were two halves of the same soul.

But just as I thought I’d escaped the trap, a man stepped out from the crowd.

"Excuse me? I couldn't help but overhear. Is everything alright?"

He looked like he’d stepped out of a J.Crew catalog—clean-cut, professional. "I’m Dr. Whitlock. I’m actually a gastroenterologist, here for the show. Would you mind if I took a quick look?"

Ben looked like he’d found a saint. "Oh, thank God. Please, Doctor."

I froze. I could only watch as this stranger approached. He pressed a hand to my abdomen, his touch cold, and after a few moments of "examination," he looked up at Ben with a knowing smile.

"She’s fine. Just a bit of nerves, likely. The tension should pass in a few minutes. If it persists tomorrow, see your primary, but you shouldn't miss your evening over this."

Ben beamed at me. "That’s amazing news! See, Cass? We can still make it."

I opened my mouth to protest, to say the pain was still there, but the doctor leaned in. He whispered into my ear, his voice a sharp, icy blade.

"I’d suggest you go to the show, Cassidy. Unless you want me to tell your boyfriend that you’re faking it."

My eyes widened. I looked at him, but his expression was perfectly placid, the image of a helpful stranger. There was no warmth in his smile. It made my blood run cold.