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My 99 Regressions Novel Cover

My 99 Regressions

Trapped in a cycle of ninety-nine lives, the protagonist’s doom always begins with an injured man named Tristan Price. Whether she saves him, abandons him, or seeks help, her family is invariably slaughtered. Guided by her brother’s frantic warnings and strange floating messages, she has exhausted every choice. Now, facing her hundredth regression, she prepares to embrace death, only to notice a startling change in the mysterious chat overlay that has governed her many tragic fate.
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Chapter 3

I sent a letter to my father and brother through a neighbor. They were still working at the government office and couldn't come themselves. So I tucked Caleb against my side and joined Tristan's group on the road back to the capital.

I'd tried leaving Caleb with them once before, thinking I could move faster and look for answers on my own. It hadn't worked. The moment I was gone, he refused to eat and cried until he made himself sick. Then he'd slipped past the servants and crawled out of the house to find me.

By the time my father and brother tracked him down, a wolf had already gotten to him.

In that life, my family's deaths were even more inexplicable. Tristan sent his private guards to finish us off.

I never left Caleb behind again after that.

The wind in December cut straight to the bone. Caleb and I sat huddled in a drafty old carriage that seemed to let in air from every direction.

I knew it was deliberate. Selena had arranged it on purpose. She couldn't stand any woman getting near Tristan, and I'd touched his bone whistle. As far as she was concerned, I'd crossed a line.

True to every lifetime before this one, she didn't wait long to come looking for trouble.

"Natalie, why isn't Tristan awake yet? What did you do to him?"

I kept my eyes down and said nothing. I didn't want her to see the hatred in them. I just focused on rubbing Caleb's hands and feet, which had gone bluish from the cold.

"Don't think just because Tristan said to bring you along, I won't deal with you myself."

Then her gaze dropped to Caleb, and something ugly moved across her face.

"Tristan's lying there unconscious, and this little brat gets to sleep just fine?"

She shot her hand out and grabbed Caleb by the throat. He jolted awake, gasping, and burst into tears.

"Don't blame me, little one," she said, her voice sweet and poisonous. "Blame your sister. She's the greedy one. Thought she could waltz into the capital and live well, and drag a useless little burden like you along with her..."

I looked at Selena, my voice flat and cold.

"Let go. If Caleb dies, you won't survive it either."

She lifted her chin and stared me down.

"He's just a child. If I want to choke the life out of him, I will. There are people who'll cover for me."

"And if the regent decides you should pay with your life?"

"That's absurd!" Selena screamed.

She looked back at Caleb and froze. He'd gone completely still. No more crying, no more struggling. He was just staring at her, his expression blank.

It scared her. She let go and stumbled back, then pointed a shaking finger at him.

"Is he Tristan's illegitimate child?" She caught herself and rounded on me. "Wait. How do you even know Tristan is the regent?"

"I have nothing to say to you."

I pulled out a salve and gently worked it into the marks on Caleb's neck.

The comments rolled fast across my vision.

[Isn't Caleb supposed to be the female lead's actual brother? How is he suddenly their secret kid? This adaptation is completely out of control.]

[There's no way they have an illegitimate child together. The male lead has too much integrity for that. She's just guessing. And if he finds out she tried to kill a toddler, he's going to make sure she answers for it.]

Caleb wasn't Tristan's child, of course.

But I hadn't lied.

In my fifty-sixth life, Selena had lured me away and killed Caleb while I was gone. It was the first time she'd died before I did. When her body was found, it had already been so badly tortured it was barely recognizable.

But there were still traces of distinct torture devices on her.

I knew every single one of them, because I'd had all of those same instruments used on me before.

They were part of Tristan's personal collection.

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