Chapter 1

After five years of marriage, I thought I had it all.

That was until a DNA report shattered my world: my son wasn't mine.

I bought two bottles of poison.

One for her, one for me.

But the night before I was about to do it, I got an email. It was from a top investment bank in Doobaie, offering me a job with a salary of 4 million dollars a year, starting immediately.

I stared at that email for three seconds.

Then I poured the poison down the toilet.

Screw dying for love. I was going to Doobaie.

Three months later, I was lounging on a yacht, soaking up the sun with a beautiful woman on each arm, when my ex-wife, who supposedly loved me so much, actually tracked me down to Doobaie.

Guess what she said to me first?

*****

My name is Alex Carter, and I'm thirty-two.

Before everything went down, I figured my life was pretty decent, maybe a little boring, but still pretty good.

I had a house, a car, a gorgeous wife, and a four-year-old son who was full of energy.

I worked as an analyst at a securities firm, pulling in 130,000 dollars a year. Not exactly rolling in cash, but it kept us comfortable.

Emily was a stay-at-home mom.

My mom always said I was lucky to have such a great wife.

I used to think so too.

Everything changed that afternoon.

I took half a day off to go home and celebrate my son's birthday.

On the way, I swung by the hospital to grab my checkup results from last week.

Inside the report, there was a slip of paper.

It was the paternity test I'd secretly done last month.

The reason was simple.

My son Ryan Carter was four now, and the more he grew, the less he looked like me.

My eyes were single-lidded, but his were double-lidded.

I had a flat nose, but his was tall and straight.

I was 5'9", my dad was 5'8", and my grandpa was 5'7".

But Ryan was already almost 4 feet tall at just four years old.

My mom always said, "It's gotta be from my side of the family, those genes run strong."

I bought that story for three and a half years.

Then, at a company team-building event, a coworker joked, "Alex, your son really looks like David from the other team."

David Grant.

My wife Emily Carter's college classmate.

The kind of 'just friends' who showed up for dinner sometimes.

I laughed and told him to knock it off, but deep down, it stung like hell.

So I went and got a paternity test.

That afternoon, I stood outside the hospital and tore open the envelope.

It was all there in black and white.

[Exclusion of paternity.]

Just three words.

My whole world came crashing down.

I just stood there, not even sure how much time had passed.

My phone buzzed.

Emily sent a voice note on WhatsApp: "Honey, did you get the cake? Ryan's waiting for you."

I didn't reply.

Then it buzzed again.

"Oh, and David said he's coming over tonight, so make sure to buy extra groceries."

David Grant. Seriously?

Damn it.

David was coming over too. Just perfect.

Of course he was. He had to show up for his own kid's birthday.

I turned off my phone.

I sat on the curb for two hours.

Then I went to the store.

I bought two bottles of rat poison.

The shop owner asked, "What do you need this for?"

I said, "Got some rats at home."

And honestly, I wasn't lying.

Yeah, two rats at home.

When I got home, I hid the poison in the trunk of my car.

On the surface, I acted like nothing was wrong.

I bought the cake and the groceries.

Ryan, no, Emily's kid, ran over and yelled, "Dad!"

I picked him up and forced a smile.

David showed up, carrying a box of imported milk. He grinned and gave me a friendly pat on the shoulder. "Alex, long time no see."

I forced a smile. "Yeah, it's been a while."

I ate dinner like nothing was wrong.

But I caught the way David and Emily exchanged those barely noticeable glances.

No.

That look, one that said it all without a word.

I saw everything.

I had been totally in the dark before, but then I saw it all for what it really was.

After dinner, David left.

Emily was humming to herself while she washed the dishes.

She was practically glowing, like nothing in the world could bother her.

I sat on the couch, thinking that tomorrow it would all end.

That night, I couldn't sleep.

At two in the morning, I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, while Emily was out cold next to me.

I was thinking about how to get started.

Pour her a glass first, then one for myself.

But doing it at home was out of the question, it'd freak out Ryan. Couldn't let him see that.

Maybe I should find somewhere else to handle it.

I would ask her to meet me somewhere.

Just saying I needed to talk to her.

I kept replaying the plan in my head, over and over.

At 3:17 AM.

My phone lit up.

An email.

I usually ignored stuff like that. Emails in the middle of the night were almost always spam.

I didn't know why, but that night, I clicked it anyway.

From: Al-Rashid Capital Investment, Doobaie.

Subject: Offer Letter: Senior Investment Analyst.

Body: [Congratulations, you've passed the interview. Your annual salary is 4 million dollars, and you can start right away. The company will cover your flight.]

I was stunned.

Then it hit me.

Three months ago.

I got hammered that day.

Totally wasted.

Tom Miller, my college roommate who worked in finance over in Doobaie, shot me a link one night, said they were hiring and told me to apply.

I was totally wasted, just tossed my resume their way without a second thought.

Woke up the next day, totally forgot I even did it.

4 million dollars.

For one year.

I stared at that email for a long time.

Then I turned to look at Emily, sleeping soundly right next to me.

Her face, so beautiful, so peaceful, so deceptively innocent.

Fake.

All of it was a lie.

I glanced down at the email again.

4 million dollars.

That was the real deal.

I went silent for three seconds.

Then I quietly got out of bed.

I went to the bathroom.

I used the remote to pop the trunk.

I threw on my jacket, headed downstairs, and pulled the two bottles of poison out of the trunk.

I unscrewed the caps and dumped the poison down the drain.

Then I tossed the bottles into the trash can.

I stood there in the night breeze, taking a deep breath.

Fuck it.

Fuck love.

Fuck betrayal.

Fuck dying together.

Screw it, I was off to Doobaie.