Chapter 2

It was one in the morning.

I stood at the entrance of the apartment complex, dragging my suitcase behind me. The January wind cut across my face like a knife.

What was I doing at this time in my previous life?

I was working overtime at the office, rushing to finish the following day's proposal.

Claire was at home, waiting for a WhatsApp message from Michael.

Harry was in his room, playing video games.

Me? I was just the ATM in that house.

I hailed a cab and headed to a budget hotel near my office.

$40 a night.

I wheeled my suitcase into the room, sat down on the edge of the bed, and started thinking about my next move.

In my previous life, I ran a building materials business.

I was just a small-time boss, making about one to two hundred thousand dollars a year.

It wasn't a bad income, but with Claire's monthly manicure card, yoga classes, designer bags, plus Harry's tutoring fees, I always ended up with nothing left by year's end.

When I hit forty, David Grant, an old client, tried to get me to invest in a new materials project.

I wavered for three months, but in the end, I chickened out.

Claire said, "We've got so many bills to pay. Why are you even thinking about this? What if you lose everything?"

I listened to her.

Turned out, David's project took off, he made eight times his money in just two years.

He went from a small business owner to a shareholder in a public company.

And me? Still spinning my wheels.

Still just the family ATM.

But this time, things were going to be different.

I pulled out my phone and found David's WhatsApp account.

The last message was still from last week, he'd asked me to dinner, said he had a hot project to discuss.

Last time around, I turned him down.

This time, I just shot back two words: [Where at?]

I sent the message at 1:30 a.m.

David replied instantly: [Damn, can't sleep? Meet me at noon tomorrow, same spot.]

I put my phone down and flopped onto the hard hotel bed.

There was a water stain on the ceiling, its edges yellowed, shaped like a messed-up cloud.

In my previous life, I died at fifty-six.

Now I was thirty-eight.

Fate had granted me eighteen extra years.

Eighteen years, that was enough.

My phone rang again.

It was Claire.

I stared at the caller ID, but didn't pick up.

It rang three times and then cut off on its own.

Right after, a WhatsApp message popped up.

[You're out of laundry detergent. Buy your own tomorrow.]

I stared at that line for a long time.

Laundry detergent.

Two lifetimes, and in the end, all she ever really cared about was laundry detergent.

I deleted that message.

Then wiped the whole chat from my phone.

*****

The next day at noon, I showed up right on time at the restaurant David always liked.

He was already there, scrolling through his phone, with two dishes already ordered.

When he saw me, he looked up and grinned. "Well, well, Mr. Carter. Look who finally decided to show up. Last time I tried to get you out for a meal, you bailed on me three times."

I sat down and poured myself some tea. "So, what's the project?"

David wiped his hands, and pulled out some papers from his briefcase, sliding them over to me.

"It's a new type of carbon fiber composite panel. We just secured the upstream patent, and now we're looking for a partner to handle production. Frank and I are each putting in one million dollars. You in?" he asked.

In my last life, I didn't even glance at the proposal.

This time, I opened the first page and acted like I was reading it for three minutes.

Then I said, "I'll put in two million dollars."

David's hand froze mid-air, cup halfway to his lips.

"How much?" he asked.

"Two million. That's one million more than you guys, so I want more shares," I said.

"Where'd you get two million all of a sudden?" he lowered his voice. "Weren't you just saying your family was bleeding you dry?"

I took a sip of coffee.

"Got divorced," I said.

David's mouth hung open in shock, shaped like a perfect O.

"When did that happen?" he asked.

"Last night," I replied.

"Holy crap," he muttered.

He set his cup down and stared at me for a few seconds, making sure I was actually serious.

"So, where'd you get the money?" he asked.

"The company just got paid for a big order, plus I've been tucking away some cash on the side for years. That should cover it," I said.

That was only half the truth.

The secret stash was real, I'd been squirreling it away for eight years, hiding it in an account Claire never knew about.

It wasn't much, just over seven hundred thousand dollars.

The company's incoming payment was real, too.

For the rest, I was planning to sell one of my commercial properties.

That property was mine before marriage, so it wasn't part of the marital assets.

In my last life, I just kept it for the rent, two thousand dollars a month, and every cent went straight into the household expenses.

But this time around, I didn't need it anymore.

David was quiet for a moment, then reached out his hand. "I trust you, man. Let's sign the contract next week."

I shook his hand.

In my last life, this project took off just two years later.

Those carbon fiber composite panels rode the wave of the EV and aerospace boom.

David's one million dollars turned into over seven million.

As for my two million.

If my calculations were right, that meant fourteen million dollars.

This time, fourteen million dollars.

That was more than enough for me to finally live like a real human being.