Chapter 1

Seven years after my divorce from Grant Hale, we crossed paths again at a bus stop outside a Boston public high school.

He was dropping his stepson off for a summer camp. I was the teacher in charge of the trip.

I meticulously verified the boy's information and medical records with him.

He answered every question earnestly, playing the perfect parent.

Until I looked up and handed back the forms. "Thank you, Mr. Hale."

He froze. The color drained from his face.

"Claire... you've changed."

I looked back down at my clipboard. I didn't answer.

I had changed.

At the very least, I was no longer the fool waiting for him to come home.

*

"Ms. Bennett, why are you still out here? Everyone is waiting for you on the bus."

A girl with a high ponytail jogged over. She was a camper and the student council volunteer assigned to help me with roll call.

I offered her a warm smile. "Just finishing up parent verification. I'll be right there."

She followed my gaze to Grant, and her eyes immediately lit up.

"Wait, you're Mason's guardian, Mr. Hale, right? I've seen your picture in the financial magazines!"

"You're such a famous entrepreneur here in Boston, and you're still so involved with Mason. Everyone is so jealous of him."

Mason Hale.

The stepson Grant had protected at all costs all those years ago.

Grant forced a stiff smile, his eyes darting to me.

"I'm his dad," he said softly. "Taking care of him is my job."

With the verification complete, I tapped the edges of the documents together and shoved them into my tote bag.

The zipper caught on the inner lining.

I pulled out a small pair of scissors to snip the thread, but the blade slipped. It sliced into my finger.

A drop of blood splattered onto the concrete.

Grant's brow furrowed instantly. He reached out and gripped my wrist.

"Don't move. Let me see."

I glanced at him, then pulled my hand free.

"Don't. That's not appropriate."

He stiffened, his hand hovering in the air.

"Then wait here. I'll get you a band-aid."

I wiped the blood away with my thumb. My voice was perfectly level.

"I said no. I need to get on the bus."

The doors of the chartered camp bus hissed shut right in front of him.

I took the front seat behind the driver, pulled a wet wipe from my bag, and methodically scrubbed the skin on my wrist where his fingers had just been.

The driver, a chatty older man, glanced in the rearview mirror.

"That guy in the suit looks like some businessman I've seen on TV. Mason's parent?"

"Yes. He's signed all the paperwork."

I turned my head to look out the window, effectively killing the conversation.

It was the seventh year since my divorce from Grant.

Seeing him again, I felt absolutely nothing.

We had long since become strangers walking in opposite directions.

I had almost forgotten.

Forgotten that I once gave him everything I had.

And that he was the one who cost me my children, one after another.

The man who personally pushed me into the abyss.