Chapter 2

Sarah' s smile froze on her face. "David, don't be rude."

Linda, my mother-in-law, immediately jumped to his defense. "What kind of thing is that to say? Robert's just had some bad luck."

"Bad luck for five years?" I asked, keeping my gaze locked on Robert. "That's quite a stretch."

Tom, Sarah's brother, scowled at me from across the table. "Hey, lay off. He' s family."

No, he's not, I thought. He's a leech. And you're all part of the same hive.

"I was just making an observation," I said calmly. "Actually, Robert, I heard you needed some money. Again. Sarah was going to ask me for it." I turned to my wife. "Five thousand dollars, wasn't it? To cover some gambling debts?"

Sarah' s face went pale. "David, this is not the time or place."

"I think it's the perfect time and place," I said, setting my fork down. "In front of everyone. So, let me be clear. The answer is no."

I pushed my chair back and stood up. "In fact, the bank of David is officially closed. For all of you."

I turned and walked out of the dining room, leaving a stunned silence in my wake. I didn't stop until I was in the garage, the cold concrete under my feet a welcome change from the stifling heat of their lies. I needed air. I needed to be away from them.

The garage door was still rolling down when Sarah burst through the door from the kitchen.

"What the hell was that, David?" she hissed, her voice shaking with rage. "How could you embarrass me like that? In front of my family?"

"Your family?" I laughed, a harsh, bitter sound. "You mean your ex-husband and your leech relatives?"

"Robert is Emily's father! And my mother and brother have always been there for me!"

"They've always been there for my money, you mean," I shot back. "I've been funding their lives for five years, Sarah. For your sake. But it stops now."

"You can't do that!" she cried. "Robert is in trouble! He needs our help!"

"Then I suggest a solution," I said, my voice dripping with ice. "You can sell that new car I bought you last month. That should cover his debts and then some."

Her jaw dropped. The car was her pride and joy, a symbol of the life I provided. The thought of giving it up for her secret lover was clearly appalling to her.

"You're being cruel," she whispered.

"No," I said, stepping closer to her, my voice dropping. "I'm just getting started."

Before she could respond, Emily appeared in the doorway, her face flushed with anger.

"How could you talk to my mom like that?" she yelled, pointing a finger at me. "You're a monster! Robert is my dad! You're just... you're just the guy who pays the bills!"

The words, though expected, still landed like a punch to the gut. The same ungrateful, entitled child from my first life stood before me. I had loved her, truly loved her, and this was my reward.

The pain from my past life, the memory of her throwing me out of my own home, surged through me.

"You're right," I said, my voice dangerously quiet. "I am the guy who pays the bills. But not anymore. Not for you, not for your mother, not for any of them."

Sarah stared at me, her eyes wide with a mixture of fear and disbelief. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying I want a divorce, Sarah."

She flinched as if I'd slapped her. "You don't mean that."

"Oh, I do," I said. "I've never meant anything more in my life."

"You can't divorce me," she said, her voice rising to a frantic pitch. "You'll be sorry, David. You'll lose everything."

It was a threat. A promise. The same one she had fulfilled in my first life.

"We'll see about that," I said, turning my back on her and my stepdaughter. I walked to my car, got in, and started the engine. As I pulled out of the garage, I saw their shocked faces in the rearview mirror, bathed in the red glow of my taillights.

I drove aimlessly for an hour, the city lights blurring through my unshed tears. Finally, I pulled into the empty parking lot of my office building. I went up to my floor, unlocked my office, and collapsed into my chair.

The dam broke.

Sobs wracked my body, harsh and guttural. It was the grief I should have felt when she died, but it was mixed with the white-hot rage of betrayal. I wept for the man I used to be, the naive, loving husband who believed in the fairy tale she had sold him.

My mind drifted back, against my will, to the beginning.

I met Sarah at a friend's barbecue. She was beautiful, with a sad story about a husband who had left her and her young daughter. Emily was a shy, quiet five-year-old hiding behind her mother's legs.

My heart went out to them. I saw a chance to build a family, to be the man her ex-husband wasn't. I fell hard and fast.

I remembered pursuing her, buying her flowers, taking her and Emily on picnics. I remembered the day I proposed, on one knee, promising to love and protect them both for the rest of my life. I had meant every word.

I remembered how, a few years into our marriage, Robert had reappeared. He was a mess, he'd lost everything overseas. Sarah came to me, tears in her eyes, saying he was Emily's father and they couldn't just let him be homeless.

"He's a good man, David," she had said, her hand on my arm. "He just made some mistakes. We have to help him."

And like a fool, I had agreed. I gave him money. I let him become a fixture in our lives, a constant, draining presence. All for her. All for the family I thought I was building.

The memory was so vivid, so painful, it felt like it was happening all over again. The love I had felt for her was a cancer in my memory, a sickness I needed to cut out.

And I would. I would cut them all out of my life, piece by painful piece. This time, I would be the one holding the scalpel.