Citrine had often wondered: if she could return to being three years old, would she ever have called Sawyer Iverson "Dad"?

More than once, she''d fantasized about giving back the life he''d given her-she just never thought she''d actually get the chance.

But she did die, truly and utterly, at the bright young age of twenty-eight.

So when she opened her eyes again, it was a shock to find herself back at seventeen.

Back then, she''d only been home from abroad for six months.

Havencrest General Hospital.

A girl in a faded ck jacket and jeans knelt alone beside a hospital bed. Her stubborn little face was pale as chalk, but her tightly clenched fists betrayed the storm inside her.

"Citrine Iverson, apologize." Sawyer''s voice was cold and hard as steel.

Just moments ago, Citrine had gotten into a fight with Jete Iverson. Jete had fallen down the stairs, and the security footage showed Citrine pushing her.

No one believed her innocence.

"It wasn''t me." Citrine slowly lifted her head, her words echoing what she''d said in herst life.

Facing the father she hadn''t seen in years, there was not a hint of warmth in her voice. She sounded as if she were speaking to a stranger.

Before her words had even faded, Sawyer''s hand came down hard across her face.

Her head snapped to the side, and bright blood trickled from the corner of her mouth.

He hadn''t held back.

"Lies-nothing but lies. Even now, you refuse to admit it. How could I have a daughter like you?" Sawyer''s voice shook with disappointment and disgust. Citrine met his gaze and finally saw the cold contempt in his eyes.

If Sawyer were a judge, she''d already be sentenced to death.

Suddenly, she let out a bitterugh. "Lucky I''m not your real daughter, or you''d really have something to be ashamed of."

"What did you say?" Sawyer raised his hand again, but this time, it hovered in the air, uncertain.

Citrine stared him down, her eyes cool and steady. "Don''t expect an apology. And if you keep pushing, I might just take the me and be done with it."

The Iverson family had killed any love she''d ever had for them long ago. Sawyer was momentarily stunned.

"What''s gotten into you?" He looked at Citrine as if she were a stranger. "I sent you abroad for years, and youe back even more arrogant and difficult than before."

She''d been an angel as a child. But ever since she returned from overseas, everything about her had changed.

She constantly shed with her sister, always fighting for attention. She''d be sharp, selfish, prickly-impossible to reach.

In the past six months, Sawyer''s disappointment had only deepened.

Citrine met her father''s scolding re and, in that moment, finally understood: Jete was his real daughter. She never had been.

Across the room, the atmosphere around the hospital bed waspletely different-warm, bustling, filled with people.

Jete was the center of attention, surrounded by loved ones, basking in their concern and affection. She only had to stand there, and everyone adored her. How ridiculous.

Citrine had died without ever knowing what that kind of love felt like.

She stood up from the bedside, brushing invisible dust from her knees with a frown.

"No need to interrupt your family''s little drama. I''ll take my leave." Citrine cast a cold nce at the crowd, then turned and walked out without looking back.