Chapter 2

2

I was back home, scavenging chestnuts to pay for college. Two pretty girls were taking pictures on a precarious rock formation overlooking a steep drop. A gust of wind, a slip, and they both started to fall. I lunged, grabbing one, my body halfway over the edge, my arm shredding against the rock as I hauled her back. The other girl…they found her body days later, in pieces.

At the hospital, the doctor told me my arm was messed up, probably scarred for life, limited mobility, maybe even disabled. The girl I’d saved was there. That’s when I learned her name: Sarah Miller.

Three years later, I graduated college, unemployed. My arm, plus my less-than-marketable degree, meant two months of rejection letters. Then, miraculously, I landed a job at a Fortune 500 company. I thought it was divine intervention. My first day, I saw Sarah. And her CEO father. Turns out, it wasn't God. It was her. Repaying her debt.

I didn't refuse. She was interning at her dad's company, and we fell in love. Her father was furious. Wrong side of the tracks. Sarah gave him an ultimatum: marriage or a shotgun wedding. He caved.

For years, I endured the cold shoulder from her family, the subtle digs, the lack of respect. But I never complained. I gave Sarah everything, indulged her every whim, no matter how unreasonable. Washing her feet was the least of it. I thought we’d grow old together. All I wanted was a child. Which is why I’d flown to see her, timed with her ovulation and “business trip,” hoping to surprise her.

Surprise, I got. But not the good kind.

Ethan had just returned from overseas, and my father-in-law insisted Sarah pick him up, personally, and gave him a cushy executive position. Me? Years at the company, and I was still a low-level clerk, practically invisible. Company policy, apparently. My father-in-law didn't want me "tarnishing the family image." Translation: He was ashamed of me.

I swallowed it. No complaints.

At Ethan’s welcome-back dinner, Sarah greeted him with a full-on kiss. My jaw dropped. She brushed it off as a European thing, they were practically siblings. I bought it. Different upbringing, right? I didn't want to embarrass her. But I saw the look in Ethan's eyes. It wasn’t brotherly.

After that, they were inseparable, laughing, whispering, working late. I tolerated it. But her refusal to have my child, the perfectly timed “business trips,” choosing artificial insemination with Ethan’s sperm instead… that was the breaking point.

I couldn't sleep. The next day, Sarah banged on the guest room door. "I'm starving! Where's lunch? Why are you still in bed? This place is a mess! What have you been doing?"

I rolled over, a bitter smile on my face. After we married, I’d pampered her so much, she probably didn’t know which way the kitchen door opened. I thought I was being a good husband. Now I just felt stupid.

"Get up! Go make some food!" She shoved me, like I was some obedient servant. Useful when needed, disposable when not.

"Make your own. You're not my wife anymore." I sat up, looked at her perfectly made-up face, and walked out.

Panic flashed in her eyes, quickly masked. “What are you talking about? If I’m not your wife, who is? Are you going to keep this up?”

“Just stating facts.”

“You!”

"From the moment you decided to have Ethan's baby, you stopped being my wife. It’s over."

"Did someone tell you something? Some lie?"

"I saw it with my own eyes." I turned to leave.

She grabbed my arm. “I just borrowed his sperm! I want a child with good genes. Is that so wrong? Does biology really matter? The kid will still call you Dad! I haven’t done anything wrong!”

“Divorce,” I repeated. This free ride of a fatherhood? Someone else could have it.

I left and went straight to the hospital. My arm was throbbing, the old injury flaring up, infected. I ran a fever and felt dizzy. I stayed at the hospital for a few days, avoiding home, focusing on work and the mountain of paperwork required for my resignation.

Leaving work one evening after yet another forced late night, I was headed back to the hospital for a checkup when Ethan’s secretary stopped me, thrusting a stack of files into my hands.

“Mark, Ethan says these need to be done in the next half hour. You’ve been here forever, should be easy for you.”

Ethan being Sarah's "brother" meant making my life hell. Lately, it had been all late nights, menial tasks, everyone dumping their work on me. I’d given notice, but I still cared about the company, so I'd been playing along. Not tonight.

“Can't. Going to the hospital.”

“Oh, sick again? Convenient timing.”

“Old injury. My arm. It’s in my file.”

“An arm ache? Really? Don’t be such a drama queen. This won’t take long. Finish it, then go.”

My vision was blurring with pain. “Do it yourself. Or dock my pay. I can’t.”

“You can’t just walk away from assigned work! Ethan might fire you!”

Just then, Ethan and Sarah walked by. The secretary pounced. “Ethan, Mark’s refusing to work. He says he’s leaving.”

Ethan adjusted his glasses. “Yes, it’s a rush job, important client, everyone’s working late. Mark, if you have an emergency, you should have just told me directly. No need for this.”