Chapter 1
The first thing I did after getting a second chance at life was slap the divorce papers down in front of Claire Bennett.
She didn't even look up. "I'm taking custody of Harry."
"Fine," I said.
She froze.
In my previous life, I put up with her and Michael Lewis for eighteen years, all for the sake of giving Harry a complete family.
And what did I get in return?
At Harry's engagement party, he walked up to Michael with a glass in hand and, in front of over two hundred guests, called out, "Dad."
This time, I left my family behind without looking back.
*****
Claire gave me the exact same look she used to in my previous life.
That condescending, impatient glare, like she was above it all.
She said, "Richard, are you done with your drama?"
She lounged on the couch, legs crossed, showing off her freshly done light pink French nails. That monthly manicure membership? Over 3 thousand dollars a month.
I paid for that.
She kicked the divorce papers under the coffee table with her toe.
She said, "You think some pieces of paper can scare me? Fine, let's get divorced. The house, the car, and Harry, they're all mine. You walk out empty-handed."
She lifted her chin, a cold smirk curling at the corner of her lips.
In my previous life, I would've been furious, arguing back, slamming my hand on the table and yelling, "Why should I?"
Then she'd start crying.
And then I'd cave.
And then another year would pass.
"Fine," I said.
Claire's face froze for a second.
"What did you say?" she asked.
"The house, the car, and Harry, they're all yours," I said.
I pulled a pen from my pocket, bent down to grab the divorce papers from under the coffee table, and signed my name where it belonged.
Once I was done, I placed the pen right in front of her.
"Sign it," I said.
Claire didn't take the pen.
She stared at me, her brows furrowing, like she was trying to figure out if I'd been swapped out for someone else.
Claire scoffed, "Richard, are you serious? You really think you can make it without me?"
"That's my problem, not yours," I replied.
"You really thought this through? You'll leave with nothing, not a single dollar to your name," she said.
"I'm sure," I said.
She stood up, came right up to me, and waved her hand in front of my face. "Have you lost it?"
I stepped back, avoiding her hand.
"Claire, eighteen years. I'm tired," I said.
Her look changed.
Not guilt, Claire's never felt guilty, not once in her life.
It was confusion.
It was like a dog she'd kept on a leash for eighteen years suddenly just slipped free.
She wasn't sad the dog was gone.
She just couldn't wrap her head around how the leash came off.
"If this is about Michael..." she started.
"It's not about him," I cut her off. "It's about me."
Silence fell.
The only sound in the living room was the ticking of the clock on the wall.
She suddenly let out a cold, mocking laugh. "Fine, sign it if you want. But don't come crying to me later. When Harry needs money, you'd better pay up, every single cent."
"I'll pay what the law says I have to. Nothing more," I replied.
"You..." she started.
"You get custody, you call all the shots on his education. Where he goes to college, who he marries, none of that has anything to do with me anymore," I said.
Claire's face drained of color.
"Richard! That's your own son!" she yelled.
I just looked at her, calm as ever.
In my last life, I really believed he was my own flesh and blood.
But would your real son stand up at his engagement party, in front of two hundred people, and call another man "Dad"?
In that moment, it wasn't rage that exploded in my mind.
It was eighteen years' worth of memories flooding back.
The nights I stayed up changing his diapers.
The mornings I dropped him off at kindergarten, and he clung to my leg, crying.
All those nights grinding away at work until three a.m., just so I could save up enough for his tutoring bills.
All of it shattered.
Gone, like it never even existed.
"Are you going to sign it or not?" I asked.
Claire bit her lip, then snatched up the pen and signed her name where it belonged.
After signing, she slammed the pen down on the table. "Get out!"
I nodded.
I turned and walked into the bedroom, pulling out the suitcase I'd packed earlier.
As I passed through the living room, Claire called out to me.
"Richard, you'll regret this," she said.
I didn't look back.
The door closed behind me.
The motion-sensor lights in the hallway flicked on.
The harsh, pale light stretched my shadow behind me as I wheeled my suitcase down the hall.
Back when I was thirty-eight in my previous life, I walked down this same hallway.
But that time, Claire was crying and pleading for me to return.
She said, "Harry's still just a kid. Can you really bear to do this to him?"
I bore it.
I put up with it for eighteen years.
By the time I was fifty-six, I died of a brain hemorrhage in the hospital, with no one by my side.
Claire was off vacationing in Sanara.
Harry was working as the vice president at Michael's company.
And me? I was alone, staring up at the harsh ceiling light, taking my last breath.
I didn't know who gave me this second chance.
But this time, I was going to live for myself.
*****
The elevator doors slid open.
I stepped inside and pressed the button for the first floor.
Just as the doors were about to close, my phone rang.
It was Harry.
I stared at the name on the screen, hesitating for half a second.
I declined the call.