Chapter 4

And the first shovelful of dirt on the grave of their dreams.

My phone was buzzing nonstop in my pocket.

I didn't even need to check to know who it was.

It hadn't even been half an hour since I left the office, and Rhett was already blowing up my phone, call after call, like she was chasing me down for my soul.

I stepped over to the curb, pulled out my phone, and saw her number lighting up the screen nonstop, the bright afternoon sun making the whole thing feel almost absurd.

I hung up.

She called again.

I hung up again.

She kept calling.

She was relentless, like she still believed I was the Malachi who'd always jump at her every request, who never missed her call, no matter what.

By the thirteenth call, I finally swiped to answer. I didn't even bother putting the phone to my ear. Rhett's shrill voice was so loud that it cut right through the street noise.

"Malachi. What the hell do you think you're doing?" she yelled. "Who told you to take the safe key from the study? That was my mother's heirloom. Give it back."

Heirloom?

I nearly laughed out loud.

Her mom couldn't stand her when she was alive, and now we were supposed to believe she left Rhett a safe with a password as some precious heirloom? That lie was so weak.

"Say something. Cat got your tongue?" she yelled, getting even more frantic when I stayed silent. "I'm telling you, don't think that stupid key will get you anywhere. There's nothing in there. Just bring it back, or else..."

"Or else what?" I cut her off, my voice so steady even I was surprised.

There was a pause. She clearly didn't see that coming.

Then her tone softened, slipping into that whiny, sweet-talking voice she only used when she needed a favor from me.

"Malachi, after everything, we were married. Do you really have to make this so messy?" Rhett said. "I know I was wrong today. I got carried away. I'm sorry.

"But Ivan and I truly love each other. Can't you just let us have our happiness?

"Just give me back the key, and... and those 'Intelligent Living' project files you have, pass them to Ivan, too. His company needs them for a big bid, and it's really important for his future..."

Now the mask dropped.

The key was just the appetizer; the real feast was the project.

That "Intelligent Living" project? I pulled endless all-nighters, drank with every big shot, begged every gatekeeper I could find to secure it.

I poured every dollar and ounce of sweat I had into it, and the deal was right on the verge of being signed.

Last time, right at that crucial moment, they kicked me out. Ivan swooped in, took over the company, and the project landed in his hands. His launchpad to success.

"Malachi, just do me this one last favor, okay?" Rhett's voice was thick with tears, her performance way more believable than last time, when she saw me coughing up blood.

She said, "Ivan said that if this project goes through, he'll get promoted to vice president, and things will finally turn around for us. Don't worry, we won't forget your kindness. If we ever get the chance, we'll definitely make it up to you."

Make it up to me?

Using my project and my money to 'make it up' to me?

As I listened to her self-serving plotting and that nauseating, fake sobbing over the phone, even the last trace of emotion lingering from my previous life faded away.

All that remained inside me was a frozen wasteland.

"Is that all?" I asked.

"What?" Rhett was caught off guard.

"If that's all, I'm hanging up," I said.

"Wait!" Rhett screamed. "Malachi. Don't take my kindness for granted. I'm only being nice because of our history. Don't force my hand.

"Let me tell you, Ivan knows all your contacts in this industry. If you dare refuse to hand over the project, he's got plenty of ways to ruin you. He'll wipe you out of this business for good, just like your bankrupt ex-boss."

See? When playing nice didn't work, they went straight to threats.

Threats and intimidation. That had always been their favorite tactic.

In my last life, I got hit with threats like this over and over. Every time, they'd guilt-trip me with talk of "marriage" and "family," and I'd end up backing down.

All it did was make their greed spiral out of control, until I was completely ruined, with no way out.

I looked up at the massive glass facade across the street, which mirrored the city's bustling prosperity, and its chilling indifference.

And in that reflection, I saw my face, blank and emotionless.

"Rhett," I said, my voice steady and slow into the phone.

"What?" She was caught off guard by how calm I sounded, replying almost on instinct.

I said, "The keys are mine. The project is mine.

"I let you two be together. That was my choice. But don't think for a second I'm letting you take what's mine.

"Is that clear?"

On the other end, her breathing was ragged, thick with shock and rage. "Malachi. You..."