Chapter 2

In court, Amelia was weeping and putting on her most pitiful face, saying things like, "I never thought the man I shared my bed with could be like this," and "For Patrick's sake, I have to divorce someone like him."

Oscar-worthy performance.

I bought it at first, crushed by her "betrayal."

Then, in my second year inside, a cellmate spilled the tea: Amelia had shacked up with William way before the trial.

Patrick's death was the last blow. It shattered whatever hope I had left.

The day of the accident was Patrick's seventh birthday. He was out by himself, waiting at the roadside for the school bus, when a truck came out of nowhere and killed him.

The driver sped off and still hasn't been found.

But I knew—that wasn't just a freak accident.

Because just one month after Patrick died, Amelia went ahead and tied the knot with William.

If Patrick had still been around, there was no way she would've moved on that fast.

Only after Patrick was out of the picture could she really start fresh with William—like the past had never happened.

My son was just a loose end to her.

Just thinking about it made my fists clench so tight my knuckles turned white.

Amelia, you think ten years meant you were in the clear?

You were dead wrong.

The real game was only just beginning.

The next morning, I threw on a fresh set of clothes, getting myself ready to step out.

Thomas came by early and wouldn't take no for an answer—he was dead set on going with me.

He looked at me, worry all over his face. "Julian, I'm really not sure about this. You just got out, your head's still all over the place. What if you lose control and do something stupid?"

"Don't worry, I'm not about to do anything dumb," I told him, giving his shoulder a quick, reassuring pat. "I just want to see her, maybe talk for a bit."

Thomas still wasn't convinced. "Fine, but I'll be waiting for you outside."

"Okay," I said, nodding at Thomas.

Amelia now lived in a swanky high-rise condo downtown. Entry-level prices there started at three million bucks.

Standing at the gated entrance, I couldn't help but sigh. The woman who'd pulled all-nighters at the hospital and walked miles to save a couple bucks on bus fare? She'd hit the jackpot—real rich housewife life.

I didn't go straight in. Instead, I grabbed a seat at a nearby café, ordered a coffee, and settled in to wait.

If nothing went off-script, Amelia would show up soon. Years of snooping told me she wasn't working these days—her whole routine was shopping, spa days, and hanging out with the ladies who lunch.

Sure enough, around ten in the morning, she showed up.

Ten years had changed her big time. Chestnut highlights in long hair, designer suit hugging her figure, handbag worth tens of thousands.

Total glow-up—from plain nurse to polished socialite.

She slid into a white Maserati. Off to the spa, no doubt.

I followed her.

She spent two whole hours inside that high-end salon in the luxury mall, while I waited out front until she finally walked out.

Just as the light changed, I quickened my steps and stopped right next to her.

"Amelia?" I called out.

She turned at the sound of my voice.

The moment she laid eyes on me, her face went totally pale, and her expensive purse dropped straight to the ground.

"J-Julian?" Amelia's voice quivered as she stared at me, eyes wide. "You... you're out?"

I bent down, grabbed the bag, and handed it back. "Yeah, got out yesterday."

Amelia grabbed the purse, but her hands shook so hard she nearly dropped it again. "What are you doing here?"

"Just passing through—didn't expect to bump into you," I said, a smile tugging at my lips. "You've really changed. Looks like life's been good to you."

She did her best to keep her cool. "Julian, about the past—"

"Honestly? It's all a blur to me," I cut her off.

Amelia froze, eyes wide. "What do you mean?"

"Had an accident in prison. Banged my head. Docs say it's mild amnesia." I rubbed the back of my skull. "A lot of old stuff's just... gone."

Amelia gave a little sigh of relief, but she still looked confused. "So... do you still remember me?"

"Of course," I replied, locking eyes with her. "You're my wife. I might not recall everything, but I know we got married—and had a son, Patrick."

Amelia's expression turned complicated. "Julian, we... we're divorced."

"Divorced?" I pretended to be totally stunned. "When? Why?"

"It was right after you... after you got locked up," Amelia said, biting her lip. "Because you broke the law, I just couldn't be with you anymore."

"Really? What did I even do?" I asked, playing up the confusion.

Amelia stared at me, her face all conflicted. "You... you seriously don't remember any of it?"

"Doc said painful stuff just gets wiped out by your mind," I said with a half-hearted smile. "Maybe my brain just can't bear digging that up again."

"Julian..." Amelia's tone softened a bit, her voice laced with a mix of concern and hesitation. "Where you staying? Got a job?"