Chapter 1: This Time, I Chose the Wrong Ring

On the day we chose our rings, I picked up the plain silver band.

My sister, Emma, took the antique ring set with a large aquamarine.

She had no idea.

The plain band was the one that would secure a marriage into New York’s most prominent family.

Its wearer would become the wife of the Sinclair family’s future heir, Corbin Sinclair.

The aquamarine ring belonged to a horse trainer named Jack West.

In my last life, I took the plain silver band Emma didn’t want, married Corbin, and moved into the Sinclair estate.

After our wedding, we were deeply in love.

Emma, on the other hand, lasted less than two weeks in her marriage before the realities of country life drove her into a severe depression.

On the day she died, Corbin locked himself in his study.

It was the first time I had ever seen his eyes so red.

“Esme, I will always love you,” he’d said.

“But I condemned your sister to such a pitiful life.”

“If I could do it all over again, I think I would have chosen her. I would have taken care of her.”

Even my parents believed I had ruined Emma’s life.

They hired the best lawyers and rewrote the will.

Then they produced a fake psychiatric evaluation, had me injected with an overdose of sedatives, and left my body in the wilderness.

After that, they placed Emma’s ashes in the Sinclair family cemetery.

When I opened my eyes again, two open velvet boxes sat on the table before me.

This time, I didn’t hesitate.

I reached straight for the aquamarine ring.

...

The moment my fingers brushed the aquamarine, my mother, Louise, slapped my hand away.

“Esme, sweetheart, you’re the younger sister. Can’t you let Emma have this one?”

“Emma has been fragile since she was a little girl. Are you really going to fight her over this, too?”

I stared at my mother’s immaculately preserved face, the sting on my wrist all but forgotten.

I remembered standing in this exact spot in my last life.

My father had placed two rings on the table.

One was an antique aquamarine ring.

The other was a simple, plain silver band.

He’d only said they represented two choices.

One was a marriage alliance with the Sinclair family.

The other was to honor an engagement he’d promised to an old friend years ago.

That family now ran a horse ranch in Connecticut.

When Emma heard the second option, her face turned white.

My father had been about to say more, but my mother shot him a look, and he fell silent.

Back then, I had thought my father would at least be fair.

Only later did I learn that Corbin’s personal assistant had been among the men who delivered the rings.

That day, they hadn’t wanted to cause an embarrassing scene, so they’d let me choose first.

“Esme, hurry up,” my mother had urged. “You’re the younger sister. You pick first. Emma will take whichever one is left.”

My father stood with his hands clasped behind his back, watching me.

His voice was heavy.

“Choose carefully. Don’t make the wrong choice.”

Emma bit her lip, looking at me as if she wanted to say something.

But when I reached for the aquamarine ring, my mother cleared her throat.

I looked up and saw her frowning, her gaze cold.

Only when my hand drifted toward the plain silver band did her expression soften, the corner of her mouth twitching into the barest hint of a smile.

I gritted my teeth and finally took the plain band.

In the end, none of them expected the aquamarine ring to belong to Jack West.

The plain silver band was the engagement ring Corbin Sinclair had personally chosen.

After that day, my mother hated me to her core and threw me out of the house.

“I should never have brought you home in the first place. You ruined everything for your sister.”

My father tugged at his tie, shook his head, and sighed.

“It’s clear we raised the wrong child.”

Emma stood by the staircase, her eyes burning with hatred as she watched me.

“Esme, you destroyed my life.”

Later, Emma died.

They produced a fake psychiatric diagnosis, sent me to a treatment center, and had me injected with an overdose of sedatives.

They just wanted me gone.

That way, Emma’s name could be placed in the Sinclair family cemetery without any questions asked.

Now, I looked at my mother’s familiar, pleading gaze, then glanced at the red marks her fingers had left on the back of my hand.

I paused for a few seconds.

Then, my face a blank mask, I picked up the aquamarine ring.

After the men who delivered the rings left, Emma sat pale-faced, slumped in her chair.

My mother rushed to support her while my father handed her a glass of water.

I touched the aquamarine ring. The stone was cool, its facets smooth.

I could feel the tiny, natural inclusions beneath my fingertip.

Just then, the screech of tires echoed from the driveway.

Corbin Sinclair jumped out of his black Range Rover and strode through the front door.