Three years of chasing Chase Blackwood, and all I got was a front-row seat to him tonguing my "sister." The old me would've cried. Begged. Made a scene. The old me also ended up dead. Funny how a second chance at life gives you clarity. So here's what's different this time: I'm done being the pathetic ex. I'm done playing nice. I'm throwing champagne in his face and climbing into bed with Asher Hayes—his best friend, his rival, his worst nightmare. And Chase? He can rot.

Three years of chasing Chase Blackwood, and all I got was a front-row seat to him tonguing my "sister." The old me would've cried. Begged. Made a scene. The old me also ended up dead. Funny how a second chance at life gives you clarity. So here's what's different this time: I'm done being the pathetic ex. I'm done playing nice. I'm throwing champagne in his face and climbing into bed with Asher Hayes—his best friend, his rival, his worst nightmare. And Chase? He can rot.

Three years of chasing Chase Blackwood, and all I got was a front-row seat to him tonguing my "sister." The old me would've cried. Begged. Made a scene. The old me also ended up dead. Funny how a second chance at life gives you clarity. So here's what's different this time: I'm done being the pathetic ex. I'm done playing nice. I'm throwing champagne in his face and climbing into bed with Asher Hayes—his best friend, his rival, his worst nightmare. And Chase? He can rot.

Three years of chasing Chase Blackwood, and all I got was a front-row seat to him tonguing my "sister." The old me would've cried. Begged. Made a scene. The old me also ended up dead. Funny how a second chance at life gives you clarity. So here's what's different this time: I'm done being the pathetic ex. I'm done playing nice. I'm throwing champagne in his face and climbing into bed with Asher Hayes—his best friend, his rival, his worst nightmare. And Chase? He can rot.