“Lindsay, whichever one of my grandsons you prefer, I’ll make sure he marries you.”
The deep, gravelly voice of old Mr. Quigley echoed through the living room. Time had carved deep lines into his face, but his expression was gentle, and his clouded eyes looked at Lindsay Nelson with warmth—though there was a flicker of guilt behind his kindness.
Lindsay felt as if she’d been hit by a wave. She stared blankly at the people around her—every face was familiar, but everyone looked so much younger than she remembered.
A jolt ran through her. Had she… come back to life?
A rush of disbelief and joy crashed over her, leaving her nearly breathless.
She glanced around the room, piecing things together. It was the night of Mr. Quigley’s dinner party. She was twenty-three again.
The memories of her previous life pressed in, heavy and tangled. Her nose stung, her throat tightened, and it felt as if a stone was lodged in her chest. She couldn’t get a single word out.
Mr. Quigley must have thought she was just nervous. He chuckled, “Go on, speak your mind. In this family, no one dares go against me.”
He and Lindsay’s grandfather had been lifelong friends, and long ago, they’d promised to become in-laws. Now, with Lindsay as the last of the Nelsons, Mr. Quigley still intended to keep that promise.
A bittersweet smile flickered on Lindsay’s face. It was exactly his authority over the family—no one ever dared disobey him—that had led to her tragic end before.
Her gaze swept the room and finally settled on Lester Quigley, the eldest grandson. Her eyes sharpened in an instant, and her hands balled into fists at her sides.
Lester met her gaze, his face dark and brooding, a warning glint in his eyes. It was as though he was silently threatening her: say my name, and you’ll regret it.
“Lindsay, what about Lester?” Mr. Quigley asked, still smiling.
Lester went rigid, his jaw tight and fists clenched on his lap. He opened his mouth, ready to protest.


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