Chapter 1

1 The fire alarm blared, a shriek that ripped through my skull. Smoke, thick and acrid, choked the air. My husband, Mark, ignoring my desperate cries, bolted from the inferno, cradling his childhood sweetheart in his arms.

I was left for dead.

My brother, Dave, livid, called Mark, his voice a thunderclap of fury.

"She's your WIFE, Mark! You left her in there for THAT? You couldn't even bother to check on her?"

Mark just scoffed, a cold, dismissive sound that cut through the phone line.

"Let her die then.

"When did you two start putting on such a show?"

Later, as he stared at my last text message, a message I'd sent just minutes before the fire, Mark crumbled. His world shattered beyond repair.

......

The sirens were deafening, and the smoke, everywhere, made my eyes sting. I was on the floor, my throat burned, and my vision blurred.

Then, a flicker of hope, Mark's silhouette appeared in the office doorway.

"Honey!"

I reached out, my voice raw and cracking.

His office was practically next to the waiting room, he had to hear me.

His tall frame brushed right past me. He didn't even glance my way.

Instead, he ran straight to the secretarial pool.

My eyes widened.

"Mark! Cough, cough! Mark..."

My throat was so hoarse, but I knew he could hear me. I was so close.

"Cough, cough! Mark! Behind you... Help me! Help..."

My voice was gone. I gasped for air, each breath a painful struggle.

My last memory was him cradling Jenny, his childhood sweetheart, in his arms as he carried her away.

Her small frame trembled against him.

"Mark, I'm so scared, my legs feel like jelly..."

He just reassured her, his voice gentle, as he hurried away, out of my sight.

"It's okay, we're going to the stairwell, don't worry."

My tears landed on the floor, as my thoughts faded.

I've asked myself a thousand times.

Why couldn't Mark have turned back?

He's usually so careful, the kind of guy who could spot loopholes in contracts. How could he miss my cries?

He knew I was coming to see him. Didn't he?

I texted him earlier asking how much longer he'd be, that I was in the waiting room.

The waiting room was on the right side of his office door.

How could he not see me?

My fingers were mere inches away from his shoes.

The secretarial pool was only steps away from the fire exit.

I was the one on the verge of passing out…

Was his childhood sweetheart really that important?