Word was out that Darryl Haley had lost his mind, and well, that wasn't far from the truth. Alaya Mccarthy's death had pushed him over the edge.

Every day, Darryl would sleep holding Alaya's bones, whispering to them about the times they had shared, and would even kiss her before drifting off...

Three months later, Darryl, along with her bones, met the same fate as the person who had killed her.

In his dying moments, he held her bones close, as if she were still his beloved. A smile of relief played on his lips...

From there on, they could finally be together.

Alaya had a dream. In it, she was killed, and it was Darryl who painstakingly dug up her bones from the wilderness.

Her spirit could only watch Darryl, unable to touch him.

"Miss McCarthy, wake up! We're back home."

A strong light shone on Alaya, gradually rousing her. She woke to a world she didn't recognize, confusion etched on her beautiful face.

She had just woken from a dream, tears of pain still fresh in her eyes. She looked so vulnerable and innocent that the driver couldn't help but gently prompt her again, "Miss McCarthy, you should head in. Mr. and Mrs. McCarthy have been waiting."

Alaya glanced at the McCarthy house through the car window, finally realizing she was back to when she was seventeen, the year she was taken back to the McCarthy's.

The nightmare she had wasn't just a dream, it was a memory from her past life.

Perhaps fate had taken pity on her, giving her a second chance, and a fresh start.

As Alaya was about to get out of the car, her phone rang.

She hesitated, slowly pulling out her phone from her bag.

The driver, catching sight of the outdated phone in Alaya's hand through the rearview mirror, smirked.

This girl was really from the sticks, unable to afford even a basic smartphone, still using a relic of a phone?

After picking up the call, Alaya heard a frantic male voice, "Hello, is this Miss McCarthy?"

"Who's asking?" she responded, not recognizing the man's voice.

Her cool attitude didn't dampen the man's excitement.

"Hello, I'm Kaysen Flynn, I run the N.111 Laboratory. Miss McCarthy, do you have a moment? I was hoping to discuss a few things with you in person?" Hope was evident in the man's voice.

N.111 Laboratory?

She remembered it as one of the top traditional medicine research labs nationwide.

Alaya recalled reading about this lab. The guy in charge was indeed named Kaysen Flynn, but she didn't know him and wasn't about to do him any favors.

"Sorry, I'm swamped." And with that, she ended the call.

She didn't even entertain a negotiation.

"Watch out for scammers, Miss McCarthy," the driver warned kindly.

Fraudulent calls were rampant, and the scammers were getting more deceptive. They loved to prey on naive, rich girls like Miss McCarthy, fresh from the countryside.

Alaya didn't bother to explain anything, simply tossing her phone back into her bag and exiting the car.

The driver got out, retrieved Alaya's luggage, and escorted her into the McCarthy's residence.

This elegantly decorated villa was the McCarthy's abode.

She remembered that in her past life, the McCarthy's didn't bring her back from Mount Ascot until she was eighteen.

But this time around, she had returned to the McCarthy's a year earlier.

But coming back early didn't pose an issue.

No matter what, she was hell-bent on making those who had hurt her pay!