His Uncle, My Sweetest Revenge

Joanna's eyes snapped open.

The blinding Hampton sun stabbed her retinas. She gasped, her lungs burning as if they were still filled with the stagnant, chemical-laced water of the asylum bathtub. Her chest heaved. Her fingers dug into the padded fabric of the sun lounger, her knuckles turning bone-white.

She wasn't dead.

A waiter in a crisp white uniform walked past, a silver tray of champagne balanced on his palm. Joanna reached out. Her fingertips shook violently. The crystal flute clinked against the tray, almost tipping over.

The icy condensation on the glass shocked her nervous system. She was back. Three years ago. The annual Madden family summer party.

Her gaze cut through the crowd of socialites and trust-fund heirs. It locked onto the far side of the Olympic-sized pool.

Freddie.

Her fiancé was leaning against the tiled edge, laughing as Jessie Beck playfully splashed water onto his chest. A wave of somatic nausea hit Joanna's stomach. The bile rose in her throat. The memory of his cold, indifferent face as he signed her commitment papers flashed behind her eyes.

Joanna took a slow, jagged breath. She forced her facial muscles to relax. The corners of her mouth lifted, clicking into the harmless, polished smile of a perfect socialite.

She stood up. Her silk stilettos clicked against the wet concrete as she walked toward the deep end of the pool.

Jessie caught sight of her approach from the corner of her eye. The aspiring actress immediately took a half-step backward toward the pool's edge, her eyes widening in a pathetic attempt to look intimidated.

Joanna saw right through the cheap trick. She didn't slow down. She sped up.

Freddie noticed the shift in the atmosphere. His brow furrowed. He pushed off the edge and stepped forward, trying to place his body between Jessie and his fiancée.

"Joanna, what are you doing?" Freddie demanded.

Jessie calculated the distance perfectly. She let out a high-pitched, theatrical gasp. She leaned back, her hand shooting out to grab the delicate fabric of Joanna's skirt, intending to drag them both into the water to play the victim.

Joanna's eyes went dead.

She didn't flinch. She didn't pull back like she had in her past life. Instead, as Jessie's fingers grazed her dress, Joanna's hand shot out. She clamped her fingers around Jessie's wrist, twisting it downward and using her own forward momentum to shove the other woman hard.

Two heavy splashes echoed over the thumping bass of the party music.

The freezing, chlorinated water swallowed Joanna whole. She didn't fight it. She let her body sink into the two-meter depth, the noise of the party instantly muting into a dull hum.

She opened her eyes underwater. The chlorine stung, but she watched the surface.

Freddie's body broke the water seconds later. He didn't even look in her direction. He swam frantically straight toward Jessie, who was thrashing and screaming for her life.

Joanna's chest burned. A cold, hollow laugh bubbled up in her throat, escaping