Chapter 2

I thought my life would just go on like that, quiet and simple.

But fate loved to mess with people.

I ran into Michael at the supermarket. Cindy and Henry were all there too.

We stood there, staring at each other across a shelf of chips.

I saw the panic in his eyes. I saw him not know what to do with his hands.

We ended up at a coffee shop. He said he wanted to buy me a coffee.

Michael looked at me, all worked up. "Emily, where have you been all these years?"

In this life, the cops never called him to come get me. He didn't know I'd been kidnapped.

I could've told him everything. It would make him feel sorry for me. But I didn't want to.

I'd never told anyone, not even Michael in my previous life.

Not because I was embarrassed. Because it wouldn't have helped.

Some pain you couldn't put into words.

You tried to tell someone, and they looked at you like you were making it up.

Because it was so awful, it didn't sound real. But it was real.

I shook my head. I didn't answer him.

My calm just made him more upset.

Michael got flustered and angry. "Emily, do you have to be like this? You were like this before. You disappear for seven years, and you're still like this.

"If I hadn't run into you, when would you have shown up? You don't want me, fine. But you don't want your son either?"

His anger was almost funny.

I really didn't want anything to do with him in this life.

I forced down the nausea rising in my throat and gave him a bitter smile. "So you got married again?

"If you thought I just disappeared for seven years, did you ever once look for me?"

I'd wanted to ask him that question in my previous life. Right up until I died. I never did.

Michael slammed his coffee cup on the table. Coffee splashed everywhere.

People in the coffee shop turned to stare.

His face was red with anger. "Emily, what's that supposed to mean? You left without a word. You abandoned your husband and son for seven years. And now you come back and blame me for remarrying?

"Let me tell you something—I remarried perfectly legally. You don't get to judge me."

I stood up and looked at him.

"If you'd filed a single missing person report, you wouldn't be saying that," I said.

If he'd filed a report, the cops would've called him the second I escaped from that place.

But he never filed a report.

Michael got so mad that he flipped the table. I didn't even look back.

The next morning, Briana found me at the factory. She looked guilty.

"Emily, I'm so sorry. We don't need you here anymore," she said.

I wasn't even surprised. After all, Breaking Dawn was a clothing company. With Michael's connections, getting me fired was nothing.

It wasn't Briana's fault. He was targeting me.

I shook my head, packed my things, and left my station.

Briana walked me to the door.

She hesitated for a long time before finally speaking. "Emily, I'm sorry. There's nothing I can do.

"I don't know how you upset Mr. Dawn. But I can tell you've been through a lot.

"Don't give up, okay? You have real talent for design. I'm going to introduce you to my old teacher. See if she'll take you as a student."

Why would I say no to that? Someone with no degree, no experience, getting a chance to study design?

Briana's teacher was named Greta Taylor. She heard me out. She didn't ask a single question about my past. She just said, "Show me a sketch."

I dug deep into my memory of college and drew something—clumsy and shaky.

Greta looked at it for a long time. Then she agreed to take me on.

But she had one condition. She wanted me to go abroad with her for three years. She said she'd teach me everything she knew.

I didn't even have to think about it. I said yes.