Chapter 1
My husband, Michael Foster, whom I've loved for 13 years, told me he was working overtime, while at the same time posting a public update on social media.
It showed him hugging a gorgeous woman.
The caption said: [Happy birthday to the person I want to protect most.]
Stunned, I dropped my phone and it smashed onto the floor.
Today was the anniversary of my mother Tracy Summers' death, and Michael was tenderly holding the true culprit behind her murder.
Trembling with rage, I signed the divorce papers on the spot.
As I packed my things, I discovered a love letter Michael had written to me 12 years earlier, hidden under the cabinet.
Without hesitation, I grabbed a pen and mercilessly crossed out the words "I love you" at the end.
Suddenly, I heard a voice right by my ear.
It said, "Damn, did I just see a ghost? Who scratched out the love letter I wrote?"
*****
The voice was coming from the very pen in my grip. I was completely taken aback. "Who are you?"
There was no reply. Realizing the person couldn't hear me, I put pen to paper and wrote: [Who are you?]
He replied right away: [Michael Foster.]
My hand trembled as I wrote: [Who's the lucky girl you're confessing to tonight?]
[Anna Young,] he replied.
When I saw my own name, my heart suddenly skipped a beat.
Thirteen years ago, right after the SATs, Michael handed me a love letter, and that night we officially got together.
A shocking thought hit me—Was I actually talking to 18-year-old Michael?
Snapping back to my senses, I quickly scribbled: [Don't bother giving her the love letter. Trust me, the future you is going to break her heart. Just leave her alone.]
His voice shot out from the pen, impatient and obviously pissed off.
He roared, "What the hell are you talking about? There's no way I'd ever hurt Anna."
Even though a decade stood between us, I could perfectly picture the furious, stubborn expression on 18-year-old Michael's face.
Yeah, the young Michael loved with a pure heart. He was devoted and sincere, and there was no way he could have guessed how cold-blooded and unfeeling the 30-year-old man he'd become would be.
His hastily written questions flared across the paper, but just as I was about to respond, the front door burst open.
Keeping calm, I quietly stashed away the letter and pen. Michael strode in, stepped over my suitcase lying on the floor, and started frantically ransacking the place.
After searching for a while, he finally looked up.
"Anna, do you remember where you put the ring I gave you when we first started dating?" he asked.
I stared at him coldly for a moment, then wordlessly unzipped my suitcase and pulled the ring from a hidden compartment.
That was when Michael finally noticed my packed suitcase, his eyebrows knotted in annoyance.
"Where are you going?" he asked.
I looked at him and said quietly, "This isn't your concern anymore. We're done. Let's divorce. I'm leaving, so Rachel can finally take my spot."
With that, I handed him the divorce papers with my signature already on them.
Michael's frown deepened. He snatched the papers from me, crumpled them up, and tossed them straight into the trash.
"You started all this when you drove Rachel insane, and now you just keep messing with her? Seriously, Anna, and now you want a divorce too? You're being totally ridiculous," he snapped.
I instinctively shot back, "I didn't do it! She caused my mother's death..."
"Enough," Michael cut me off.
He snapped, annoyance boiling over in his voice. "Don't even try to play innocent. I know everything you did to Rachel. Quit with the lies and give me the ring."
He stretched out his hand toward me, and I felt icy dread washing through my veins. My heart had never felt so cold.
That ring was something 18-year-old Michael had worked three months of part-time jobs to afford. He gave it to me along with that love letter.
Back then, he told me the ring was a symbol of his true feelings.
He swore that as long as that ring stayed with me, his heart would never leave.
On that day, my mother was gone.
The meds she'd always taken were suddenly switched out for some harsh medication, and out of nowhere, it triggered a fatal heart attack.
And I was the one who gave her those pills.
Every finger pointed at me. The Summers were furious, calling me heartless and beating me with their fists.
"Anna must have hated her mom for not keeping a closer eye on her, letting the nurse mix her up with another baby and making her suffer for over a decade. That's why she killed her own mom!" one of them shouted.
"That kind of wretch is a curse on this family. She belongs nowhere near us. Let's beat her to death!" another shouted.
My real father was beyond furious. He snatched up his cane and struck my right arm with all his strength.
I thought I would be beaten to death right there, but suddenly Michael burst in and put himself between me and every blow.
"Even if Anna was switched at birth and grew up outside the Summers family, she'd never kill her own mother. There must be something more to it!" he yelled.
He ended up black and blue all over, but he held onto me for dear life and wouldn't let go no matter what.
The cops eventually announced I was cleared of all suspicion, and only then did everyone finally stop attacking me.
With tears streaming down my face, I rushed Michael to the hospital. While I treated his wounds, I kept calling him an idiot for getting himself hurt.
But 18-year-old Michael just brushed it off with a carefree grin. He told me, "Even if no one else believes you, I always will."
Yet now, just a few words from Rachel were enough for 30-year-old Michael to turn cold and push me away.
Seeing the impatient look in his eyes, I felt the sting of tears. My hand trembled a little as I placed the ring in his palm.
Michael's expression softened a bit. He then carefully slipped the ring into his pocket and headed for the door. Just as he was about to leave, he stopped in his tracks.
"I'll get you a new one," he said.
My eyelashes quivered, but then he added, "So don't use this ring as an excuse to mess with Rachel again, okay?"
As soon as he finished, the door slammed shut, and I felt my heart drop to rock bottom once more.
Back in my room, I opened the old love letter and lifted my pen to reply, when suddenly I could hear the hurried footsteps of the young Michael echoing in my ears.
"Man, rewriting that love letter took forever, and now I can't find Anna anywhere. She just vanished. Looks like I'll have to wait until tomorrow to give it to her," Michael murmured, his voice sounding rushed.