On my way to meet the lawyer with the will in hand, I was in a car accident. The car was totaled, and I didn’t survive. When I opened my eyes again, I was sitting in a classroom at Brentwood University, back in 2002. Sitting next to me was a 19-year-old Julian Mercer, my boss. “Are you… Julian Mercer?” He was in the same class as me? Julian slightly turned his head, acknowledging that he heard me, though his eyes stayed focused on Professor Dean Foster at the front. “Yeah.” I looked at this young man, wearing a worn-out hoodie and a pair of ill-fitting sneakers. Julian was hurriedly taking notes, and I noticed the bruises on his wrists. This handsome, slender boy would, ten years later, become my boss. He was the one who left all his wealth to me when I was at my lowest. I glanced down at my hands—smooth and delicate. They were completely different from the rough, worn hands I had before. And right there beside me, I spotted a 2002 Chanel handbag. Back when I worked for Julian, my family had fallen into hard times. The few designer bags I owned were gifts from him, given as year-end bonuses. I pulled out a compact from the bag, carefully studying the beautiful young woman reflected in the mirror. I had really been given a second chance.
After class, Julian picked up his books and quickly left. I tried to follow him, but a girl blocked my way. “Sienna, why were you talking to that loser today?” Loser? She must be talking about Julian. “So what if I talked to him?” Her eyes widened, and she reached out to touch my forehead. “Weren’t you the one who used to say he smelled like dirt and was gross?” What? I hated Julian? I tried to recall, but I really had no memory of him from our university days. “I was immature back then. Now I think he’s amazing—an inspiration.” I glanced up, and there he was, standing at the doorway, lips tightly pressed together, looking a bit uneasy. “Did you forget something?” I smiled at him, offering as much kindness as I could. He nodded but didn’t look at me. I grabbed the keys on the desk and handed them to him, following him out of the classroom. His pants were clearly too short, and his shoes too big, revealing the backs of his heels as he walked. There were several blisters on his feet, and I noticed more bruises on his ankles. “Is someone bullying you? Who is it?” He turned around, surprised, as if to say, “Isn’t it you?” I blinked, clarifying, “I mean, someone in your dorm?” He didn’t respond and kept walking. I followed him, and as we passed the West Wing Stairwell, someone suddenly pulled him aside.
“What are you guys doing?” I rushed up to find Julian pinned to the ground. One of the guys had his foot on Julian’s shoulder and looked shocked when he saw me. “Sienna, I thought you hated him.” Julian looked at me too, but his eyes didn’t show fear or a plea for help. “I don’t hate him anymore. In fact, he’s my friend now. So you better move your foot.” The boys laughed mockingly, throwing me challenging looks. I pulled out my phone, pretending to make a call. They started to panic. “What are you doing?” I looked at them innocently. “Calling the dean. My dad donates so much to this school every year, and this is what it produces? A bunch of bullies ganging up on one guy?” They grew scared, knowing I had the power to get them expelled. They glared at Julian and me, muttering curses as they started to leave. “Wait.” They froze. The only defiance they could muster was standing with their backs to me. “Julian is my friend. You got that?” Grudgingly, they nodded and left. I helped Julian up. He wasn’t hurt, just dirtied. In his hand was an unsealed envelope. As he stood, the money inside spilled onto the ground. Some were even coins. “You were going to deposit this?” He looked at me, trying to figure out if I was a friend or foe, then nodded. “I was sending it to my brother.” “You’re this broke, and you’re still giving your brother money?” I realized I’d overstepped as soon as the words left my mouth. Luckily, he didn’t seem offended. “Yeah, he needs it right now.” He had a brother? I had worked for Julian for seven years in my previous life, and not once did I hear him mention a brother.
I had someone look into Julian’s past. It wasn’t an easy path for him. He dropped out in his sophomore year of high school, and it took a lot of convincing from a teacher before his parents agreed to let him retake his exams and go to college. His grades were excellent, and the school waived his tuition. He even received scholarships and financial aid, which won over his parents. But Julian’s younger brother, Mason, had failed his entrance exams, and their family spent a fortune to pull strings to get him into a vocational college. A few days into school, he got a girlfriend and started asking Julian for money to buy her gifts. Their family didn’t give Julian a single cent for living expenses. He had to work at the Brentwood University Dining Hall to earn money and send it back home to support Mason. There was even a picture of Mason in the report. He was leaning against a tree, smoking, with a smug look on his face. But… why did he look so familiar? I racked my brain. Wait… wasn’t this the same guy who was driving the car that hit me in the accident?
A chill ran through me. Maybe the accident wasn’t an accident after all. I had always wondered why Julian left nothing to his parents in his will and gave everything to me instead. Maybe his suicide was tied to his family. Mason’s school was near Brentwood, though it didn’t have the best reputation. Students like Mason, with average grades and family backgrounds, acted as if they ruled the world. Every time I saw their posts, I thought it was some wannabe mob boss living out a fantasy. As I was thinking this, Mason and his group of friends blocked my path, asking for my number. I looked at them coldly. “Why would you need my number? Do you even have a phone?” Mason awkwardly scratched his head and said confidently, “We have a phone booth at our dorm.” When I didn’t respond, he reached for my bag. I shot him a low warning. “This bag is worth ten grand. Are you sure you can afford to pay for it?” They burst into laughter. “No way it costs that much. Is it made of gold?” I didn’t back down. “You’re welcome to try if you’ve got the money.” Mason hesitated but withdrew his hand. Maybe feeling humiliated in front of his friends, he suddenly reached for my arm, but I dodged. “Mason.” A familiar voice came from behind me. It was Julian. He hurried over, pushing Mason away and apologizing to me. I watched as he bent slightly, bowing to me, though just earlier, he hadn’t flinched when others were bullying him. Now, though… I felt a sudden pang of sympathy for him. “Julian, your brother crossed a line. Let’s go back to campus and deal with this.” With that, I walked off. Julian said something to Mason, who looked annoyed, but finally smiled when Julian handed him fifty bucks. Back at Brentwood, Julian was still apologizing. “I’m sorry, my brother is out of line. Please don’t hold it against him.” There was a pleading tone in his voice. I nodded. “Alright, but you owe me tutoring in exchange.”
Julian froze. “Tutoring?” I told him I wasn’t doing well in my classes, especially English. As long as he could tutor me daily and help me pass my finals, I’d let this whole thing go. Plus, I’d pay him for the tutoring. He looked serious as he replied, “I can tutor you, but I won’t take your money.” Of course, I knew he’d say that. But it didn’t matter. There were other ways to help him financially. Thinking back to my past life and how much Julian had cared for me, I had this sudden urge to spend money on him, to return the favor. As a boss, Julian had been great. He’d had a tough life, but he was always kind and considerate with his employees. Once he started making money, he consistently donated to charity, though always in my name. He said he didn’t want any media attention. I understood. After all, it wasn’t like I was losing anything; I was building good karma. Just then, my phone rang. It was my dad. “Hey, Dad.” I greeted him, my voice dry. In my past life, my father had committed suicide by jumping from a building after his company went bankrupt. He hadn’t left a single note behind. I never imagined I would have the chance to speak with him again. “Harper, have you eaten yet?”
His familiar voice, so warm and comforting, made my nose sting, and I had to fight back tears. “I… yeah, I’ve eaten. What about you?” I tried to keep my voice steady, but the emotions were overwhelming. Dad chuckled on the other end. He proudly told me that he’d had Grandma’s pork stew today, knowing it was my favorite dish. That warmth spread through my chest, but I couldn’t forget the real reason for the call. “Hey, Dad, make sure you’re checking the company’s accounts closely. My professor said you should never let just one person handle all the finances—it’s too risky.” In my previous life, my father’s company had been siphoned off bit by bit by his so-called best friend, who eventually fled overseas with millions. Dad had trusted him too much, and even when things went south, he refused to believe it. Dad suddenly turned serious on the phone, saying, “I’ll look into it.” I wanted to keep talking to him, but another call was coming through on his end. He was still Greg Blake, after all. His days were busy. After hanging up, I turned to Julian and discussed my schedule with him.
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