The Ex-Sweetheart's Karma

Blood pooled beneath me in an abandoned, decaying Brooklyn alleyway. A druggedup street gang swung their baseball bats, the brutal cracks shattering my ribs.

My childhood sweetheart stood just steps away. He covered his new girlfriend's eyes, his voice gentle as he coaxed her not to look. He walked away with her. Left me there to rot.

Then, a blinding light pierced my retinas. I snapped my eyes open. I was back on the day of my eighteenth birthday.

Chapter 1 Champagne flowed around the glittering elite at my eighteenth birthday bash. By the pool, the crowd cheered, egging me on. I gripped the microphone. "Declan.

My birthday wish is for you to be my boyfriend." The blunt in Declan's hand twitched.

The corner of his mouth tipped up. "Sorry, Valerie," he smirked. "You're too much of a good girl for me. Not my type." In my past life, those words tipped me over the edge.

The memory of my gruesome death crashed into me. Ice flooded my veins. My fingernails dug into my palms.

I wanted to tear him apart right here. "Valerie, you okay?" someone murmured. "Come on, Declan.

Cut the birthday girl some slack." Declan maintained his untouchable, arrogant bastard persona. Leaning against a sleek sports car, he exhaled a thick cloud of weed smoke.

His long, tattooed fingers flicked the ash. "Sorry. I don't do the deep, devoted thing." His raspy drawl usually reeled people in. Now, it just made my stomach churn.

Under the gaze of the entire party, my expression flattened.

I voiced my new wish into the mic. "Declan, I wish that for the rest of our lives, our paths never cross again." I blew out the candles.

Someone reached out to stop me, but I brushed past them. The smirk vanished from Declan's face. "Valerie. Are you serious?" He stepped into my path. "I'll give you one more chance.

Make a new wish, and I'll pretend I didn't hear that." I ignored him. I grabbed the silver knife to cut the cake. Declan lunged forward.

His bare right hand gripped the blade. "Valerie, I'm talking to you." The sharp steel sliced into his skin. Blood dripped onto the frosting. "Blood!

Declan's bleeding!" a girl shrieked. I knew. It was one of his episodes. Declan had severe psychological issues.

In my past life, I was the only one who could pull him back from the edge. Well. Before the transfer student showed up. Because of that, I always thought I meant something to him.

Until I stood in the blind spot behind the lockers. I heard him coaxing that fullride scholarship transfer student with a low, possessive rasp. "She's not like you.

She's just a placebo. You're my only cure.

I'll die without you." I let go of the knife handle. "If you like it so much, keep it." In front of every guest, I reached up and snapped the custom hundredthousanddollar Cartier necklace he had given me.

I tossed it into the heated pool without a second glance. I turned to walk away. Declan dropped the knife and grabbed my wrist.

His bloody fingers smeared crimson across my white silk blouse. "Valerie, who is this little tantrum for?" The metallic smell of blood hit me.

A cold sweat broke across my skin, my breath catching in my throat. Flashbacks of the baseball bats and the dark alley hijacked my brain. The world spun.

My knees buckled, and everything went black.

When I opened my eyes, Declan was slouched in a chair by my bed. "Finally awake?" he drawled. "You piss me off, and I still have to carry you home.

How are you gonna make this up to me, Valerie?" He was a player. He loved feeding me these blurry, flirtatious lines. He used to plant seeds of false hope in my chest.

But I wasn't that girl anymore. I knew the truth now. When Declan faced the girl he actually loved, his slick tongue disappeared. He couldn't even confess without his voice shaking.

I exhaled a slow breath. "I'm exhausted." "Declan, we're done hanging out. Don't look for me again." The next morning, I walked to school alone. Declan didn't wait for me.

I knew his game. It was a punishment. He expected me to crawl back and apologize. I didn't spare him a single glance all day.

In the afternoon, someone shook my shoulder, jolting me awake from my nap at my desk. "Valerie! Wake up!

Declan is beating the hell out of the quarterback outside the football locker rooms!" Before I could fully process the words, my lab partner dragged me toward the football field. "You have to go see this.

Declan is acting like a complete psychopath. You're the only one who can stop him." Chapter 2 No. My lab partner was wrong. They didn't need me.

Declan's leading lady had already taken the stage. I was right. By the time we pushed through the crowd outside the football locker rooms, the brawl was over.

Declan was slumped on a concrete bench, chest heaving, sweat dripping from his jaw. Next to him sat a girl.

She had her hair pulled back in a low ponytail, her face pale and innocent. She gripped his hand, her voice trembling with unshed tears. "Declan.

You're hurt." Declan hated being touched. His muscles tensed, ready to rip his hand away. But then his eyes locked onto mine through the crowd. He froze.

His jaw tightened, and he let his hand go slack, letting Clara hold it.

Two linebackers were practically carrying the bloodied quarterback away. "Hold up." Declan's voice cut through the silence.

He pointed a tattooed finger at Clara. "Apologize." The quarterback's face was a bruised, swollen mess. "Come on, Declan," someone muttered. "Let him get to the nurse's office first." Declan didn't flinch.

His tone dropped, cold and absolute. "I said, apologize to her." Clara squeezed his hand, shaking her head. "It's okay, Declan.

I'm fine." The star quarterback, beaten to a pulp, actually mumbled an apology. Someone in the crowd whispered, asking what started it.

My lab partner lowered her voice. "The quarterback was making fun of Clara for wearing thrift store handmedowns, saying she couldn't even afford the cover charge for Friday's party.

Declan heard him." "Serves him right. Keep your mouth shut." "Declan is so hot.

Literal knight in shining armor." "Are we living in a CW teen drama right now?" I was the only one who knew the truth.

In my past life, Declan tormented the quarterback until he was forced to transfer schools. The day he left, he cornered me by my locker. He warned me to watch my back around Clara.

He wouldn't say anything else. He was probably too terrified of Declan putting him in the hospital again.

The quarterback needed real medical attention, and an ambulance would take too long. I stepped out of the crowd. "Take my car." He flinched, looking at me with wide eyes. "Thanks.

But I'm good." Declan shoved past Clara and grabbed my arm. "Valerie.

Are you deliberately trying to piss me off?" I glanced over his shoulder at Clara, whose eyes were red and watery.

I yanked my arm out of his grip. "Mind your own business." "If you walk away right now, don't ever look for me again," Declan warned, his voice tight. I didn't even look back.

I helped the other guys support the quarterback and walked away. Crash. Gasps echoed from the crowd behind me. Declan had just punched a metal locker. Tsk. Hope he broke a knuckle.

After that, Declan and I barely crossed paths. Rumor had it he stopped getting into fights, all for Clara. Word was he even turned over a new leaf and started focusing on his GPA.

His buddies tried to drag him out to a basement gaming allnighter.

Clara leaned in, her voice barely a whisper. "You haven't finished your AP vocab flashcards yet." Declan let out a heavy sigh and slouched back into his seat. "Can't make it.

My old man is breathing down my neck." My lab partner fed me these updates every single day. But whenever I walked into the room, the whispers would abruptly stop.

Everyone would suddenly look busy. "I feel so bad for her." "Right? Chased Declan for years just to lose him to a charity case." Did I look pitiful? I really didn't give a damn.

My college applications were basically done. As soon as I aced my finals, I was out of this town. I was going to major in Journalism. My real life was about to begin.

One afternoon, after school, Declan's mother intercepted me. "Valerie," Sylvia pleaded. "Declan forgot his meds again.

Could you please drop them off for me?" I was a second away from refusing. Then my eyes dropped to the dark purple bruises peeking out from under Sylvia's designer cuff.

I exhaled slowly. "Fine." I texted Declan: Where are you? It took him forever to reply. He just dropped a pin. An underground dive bar.

Chapter 3 In my past life, I practically lived at this place. I navigated the familiar, sticky concrete steps down into the basement. I spotted Declan immediately.

He was slouched on a battered leather sofa in the deepest, graffiticovered corner of the dive bar, playing a highstakes game of Texas Hold'em.

The table was piled high with poker chips and several luxury car keys. I strode over and tossed the pill bottle onto the table.

It clattered against the chips. "Your mom told me to drop this off." Declan's brow furrowed the second he saw me. "Who told you to come here?" I didn't even acknowledge the question.

I turned on my heel, ready to leave. A heavy arm blocked my path. "This your girl, Declan?" the guy asked. Declan let out a cold scoff.

He took the cigarette the guy offered and tucked it behind his ear. "Not a chance in hell." Right then, Clara pushed open the heavy iron door of the bar, wearing her faded, washedout hoodie.

The thick haze of weed and cheap liquor sent her into a violent coughing fit.

Declan shot up from the sofa and stepped in front of her, shielding her from the room. "Put the cigarettes out.

All of them." The guy with the yellowing teeth who had blocked me grinned. "Ah. So the real lady of the hour is here." Clara's face burned crimson. "Declan, don't let them say that.

The school rules strictly say we can't—" "I know." Declan reached out and lightly tapped the tip of her nose. "Be a good girl.

Say 'please', and I'll let you off the hook." Clara gasped softly, pointing a trembling finger at the cigarette tucked behind his ear. "Declan, I thought you promised me you'd quit smoking?" I felt the weight of Declan's gaze shift toward me.

A memory surfaced. I had asked him to quit smoking once, too. I'd had asthma since I was a kid; the smell of smoke suffocated me. Back then, he didn't even bother to humor me.

He had purposely blown a thick ring of smoke right into my face. Not gonna happen, he'd said. A cynical smile curled my lips. I bypassed the crowd, heading for the exit.

A hand grabbed my jacket. "Don't leave so soon, sweetheart." The guy turned to Declan. "Hurry it up, Declan. It's a couples' game tonight. My girl is playing.

Who's buying in for you?" I yanked my arm free and kept walking.

Clara's fingers clamped onto my sleeve. "I… I don't know how to play Texas Hold'em." My brows snapped together. "How is that my problem?" "I…" Clara's eyes welled up with tears at my sharp tone.

Declan closed the distance in two strides, shoving himself between us and shielding her. "Watch your mouth, Valerie." "Psycho." I sidestepped to leave, but he blocked me again.

My patience snapped. I met his glare, my voice dripping with pure sarcasm. "What's the play here, Declan? Playing hard to get? Hoping I'll beg to be your girlfriend?" "In. Your.

Dreams." "Then get the hell out of my way." I shoved past him. This time, nobody tried to stop me.

As the iron door swung shut behind me, I heard Clara's panicked voice. "What do we do, Declan? I don't know how to play." Declan's voice dropped, impossibly gentle. "Idiot.

You've got me. We aren't going to lose." I couldn't care less if they lost every dime on that table.

That evening at the dinner table, my mom kept sighing over her plate. "I saw Sylvia again today. She was covered in fresh bruises.

Marcus is going too far…" "By the way, Valerie, I haven't seen Declan around for dinner lately. Did you two get into a fight?" "No." "Oh, good.

You should invite him over more—" I looked up from my plate, cutting her off. "I cut him off. We aren't friends anymore." "What?

Why?" I took a slow bite of my panseared halibut. "No real reason.

I just have a zerotolerance policy for blind idiots." My mom hesitated, her voice dropping cautiously. "Did Declan get a girlfriend?" I dropped a piece of fish onto her plate. "Yep.

It's a reallife tragic romance.

Super sweet." They were starring in their own trashy CW teen drama, but for some reason, they insisted on dragging a completely indifferent bystander into the role of the villain.

Chapter 4 When I walked into homeroom the next morning, Clara was already sobbing. "What am I supposed to do, Declan? It was literally in my backpack this morning.

How could it just vanish?" My lab partner leaned in. "The funds for the endofyear charity gala that Clara was holding onto are gone.

The student council is breathing down her neck to cough it up." "Just pull the security footage," I remarked casually, dropping my notebook onto my desk. Clara instantly snapped.

She marched right up to my desk. "Valerie, I might be poor, but I'm not desperate enough to steal the gala money." I hadn't even accused her of taking it.

Why the massive defensive trigger? Declan stepped up beside her. His voice was ice. "Apologize to her." I ignored him and set my designer bag on my chair.

Declan grabbed my bag and hurled it across the room. A second later, he flipped my desk over. He was having another episode. "Apologize to her.

Are you deaf?" Dead silence suffocated the classroom. Nobody dared to breathe, let alone intervene. I bent down, grabbing the metal leg of my desk to right it.

A brutal grip locked around my throat. Declan shoved me backward. The veins in his neck bulged against his skin. "Apolo. Gize. To. Her." Oxygen vanished.

Tears of purely physical reflex pricked my eyes. His iron fingers dug deeply into my windpipe, searing a hot ring of bruised flesh into my skin.

Clara grabbed his arm, her pale fingers trembling. "Declan! Declan, stop!" He didn't hear her. His bloodshot eyes bore holes into my skull.

I had no idea who he was seeing in that moment. It took three male teachers sprinting in to finally pry his fingers off my throat.

Clara immediately threw her arms around Declan's shaking frame. "It's okay, it's okay," she sobbed into his chest. "I don't care what anyone else thinks.

As long as you believe me, Declan." He buried his face into the crook of her neck, but his dark, unreadable stare stayed locked onto my exact coordinates.

The school nurse practically carried me toward the door. His heavy gaze burned into my spine the entire way out.

Marcus, the billionaire patriarch of Declan's family empire, marched into the principal's office flanked by his private security.

He threw a devastating right hook into Declan's jaw, nearly knocking him flat onto the linoleum floor. "You goddamn bastard!

If you touch a single hair on Valerie's head, I'll freeze your trust fund right now and wipe your name off the line of succession, believe me!" He raised a polished dress shoe, ready to kick his son while he was down.

Clara threw her body in front of Declan. "Sir, please! Declan was just trying to protect me.

If you want to hit someone, hit me!" Declan stared up at his father with venomous, dead eyes. "Lay a finger on her, and I'll kill you." I had zero interest in being an extra in their twisted family melodrama.

I looked at the guidance counselor. "Can I leave now?" My vocal cords were shredded. Every syllable felt like swallowing shattered glass.

The faculty was too busy dealing with the chaos to care about me. As I slipped out the door, Marcus and Declan were physically brawling on the carpet.

Clara and the teachers were screaming, trying to pull them apart. An absolute circus. When I finally got home that evening, Sylvia was sitting in our living room.

The second she saw me, she gasped, clapping a hand over her mouth. "Valerie… did Declan…" My own mother jumped off the sofa.

She rushed over, inspecting the dark, fingershaped bruises blooming around my windpipe. "Did Declan choke you?" I gave a curt nod.

This was the perfect opening to sever the final tie. "Sylvia, you see how it is. Declan despises me. From now on, whatever you need him to do, you'll have to ask him yourself.

I'm officially stepping back." "Valerie…" Sylvia let out a defeated sigh, but she couldn't argue. Chapter 5 The next day, Clara cornered me with an apology. "Valerie, I am so sorry.

Declan was just so impulsive. I'm apologizing on his behalf." She lowered her eyes. "But I really didn't steal the gala funds.

Declan already covered the missing amount for me, he…" "You don't need to report your relationship updates to me," I cut off her subtle flex.

She loved playing this exact game in my past life. Playing the sweet friend on the surface while shoving her superiority in my face.

Back then, my blood would boil, and I made a lot of impulsive, regrettable moves.

I wasn't stepping into the same pathetic trap twice. "If you're done, I'm heading back to class." Clara grabbed my wrist. "Anyway, I really am sorry.

Please don't be mad at Declan." I crossed my arms and a cold, mocking laugh escaped my lips. "Are you his defense attorney or some kind of pet? "Also, sweetheart, let me remind you, he and I grew up together in a mansion in a wealthy neighborhood.

I've seen his most disgraceful trashy moments. You think you really know him?" She liked playing these little psychological games? Fine. I could play them right back.

Just as expected, the moment I dropped the childhood sweetheart card, the light died in Clara's eyes. Tears welled up instantly. Was she for real?

I turned my head and caught sight of Declan standing in the shadows of the corridor. I pretended I didn't see him and kept walking.

His dark gaze was glued to the bruising on my neck. I couldn't care less what was going through his head.

Clara jogged over to him. "I just wanted to apologize to Valerie for you, but I don't know what happened… I think she's mad." Declan pulled his gaze away from me and pinched Clara's cheek. "Meddler." "What?" Clara blinked, thinking she misheard him.

Declan's fingers dug harder into her skin. "Don't do pointless things like this again.

She doesn't deserve your apology." Clara visibly exhaled in relief. "Declan, as long as you're okay, I'll do whatever you ask." Declan offered a faint smile and yanked her into his chest.

Clara sought me out again later that week. The girl was like a shadow I couldn't shake. "Valerie, my birthday is this Saturday. I'm inviting you to dinner.

Will you come?" Declan was slouched against the doorframe, his eyes tracking her every move. "No time," I rejected her flatly. I genuinely didn't have the time.

I had college prep and tutoring all weekend. Declan stepped into the doorway, cutting off my exit. "Valerie, we used to be friends.

Do you really have to be this ruthless?" I stared blankly at his chest, refusing to meet his eyes. "If you don't show up, I'm going to assume you're still into me and just jealous of Clara." Reverse psychology.

Pathetic, and entirely useless on me. I didn't care what he thought. "Think whatever you want." No matter what Declan said, I refused to soften my tone.

His patience had a hard limit. He forced the next words through gritted teeth. "Fine. Don't regret it." But I quickly changed my mind. Because of what I saw later that afternoon.

I saw Clara smoking. Honestly, the act itself didn't shock me. No matter how much a smoker tries to cover it up, the scent always lingers on their clothes.

My lungs were hypersensitive to smoke. I had suspected Clara's little habit for a while.

What actually sent a cold spike through my chest was the person standing next to her in the alley. It was him. The tattooed gang member from my past life. The one who killed me.

How the hell did Clara know a piece of human garbage like him? Wasn't she the innocent, straightA scholarship student?

Unless— Unless my brutal death in my past life wasn't just a random tragedy. Was she involved? I forced myself to breathe. I told myself a thousand times to let it go.

That was a past life