Turning Back the Clock Saving Tamara — Novel

About

In a world where a mother's love is tested by betrayal and tragedy, Celestine finds herself thrust back in time to the fateful Taste of Chicago Festival. With her daughter Tamara's life hanging in the balance, Celestine is determined to rewrite their grim fate. But as she confronts her husband Clinton and the manipulative Emerald, the stakes rise. Can she protect her child from sinister intentions that lurk behind a facade of kindness?

As Celestine battles against time, memories of her daughter's tragic past fuel her resolve. Each encounter with Clinton, who dismisses her fears, and Emerald, whose charm conceals a dark truth, sends shockwaves through Celestine's heart. How can she convince them that Tamara's allergy is no trivial matter? Will she be able to thwart their plans before it's too late, or will history repeat itself?

With every moment that passes, the tension escalates, forcing Celestine to confront not only her enemies but also the remnants of her own love for Clinton. As she navigates a web of deception and desperation, will she find the strength to reclaim her daughter's future, or will the past continue to haunt her?

Turning Back the Clock Saving TamaraChapter 1

My daughter had been allergic to nuts since childhood. Yet, on Taste of Chicago Festival, my husband's "first love," Emerald Winston, sent over a box of five-nut mooncakes. They cruelly claimed her allergy was just an excuse and forced her to eat the mooncakes, which were filled with nut shells.

By the time I got home, the hospital had already called. They told me my daughter had died from an allergic reaction despite their best efforts to save her. She was only six years old. She died right there on the operating table. As I cradled her ashes in grief, my husband was off celebrating with Emerald and her son, who had just recovered from an illness.

But what my husband didn't know was that his "first love," Emerald, a doctor, had harvested bone marrow from my daughter's pelvis for her son's transplant.

When I confronted her, enraged, my husband pushed me off the balcony in a fit of anger. That fall killed me.

When I opened my eyes again, I realized I had returned to the day of the Taste of Chicago Festival. This time, I swore, things would be different. This time, I would make sure that those scumbags paid for what they had done!

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