Chapter 2

I woke up with a gasp, sunlight in my eyes.

My bedroom. Our bedroom.

The calendar on the wall: Memorial Day.

The morning of the trip.

It wasn't a dream. It was a second chance.

A coldness settled deep inside me, a core of ice where my heart used to be.

They would pay. Every single one of them.

I knew their plan, every step.

I remembered their faces, their casual cruelty as they plotted my end.

Brenda, complaining about how I "didn't deserve" the money, how it should go to "real family."

Jessica, excited about the designer bags she'd buy.

Mark, my husband, coolly discussing how to make it look like an accident.

"She trusts me," he'd said with a smirk I now understood. "She'll do anything I say."

He was right about the first part, not anymore.

I got out of bed, my movements precise, deliberate.

No more trusting wife. No more loving mother to a child that wasn't mine.

Only revenge.

Mark came into the bedroom, already dressed.

"Morning, sleepyhead," he said, that fake smile plastered on his face. "Ready for our big trip?"

"Almost," I replied, my voice even, betraying nothing of the storm inside me.

He pecked my cheek. His touch felt like a spider crawling on my skin.

I forced a smile. "Just need to pack a few last things."

The drive was the same. Brenda's off-key humming, Jessica's bored sighs.

Mark chattered about the beautiful views we were going to see.

I listened, nodding at the right moments, my mind a razor, honing its edge.

We reached the overlook. The same stunning panorama, the same deadly drop.

Mark put his arm around me, just like before.

"Come closer to the edge, Sarah. The view is even better."

His hand tightened on my waist, ready to shove.

I knew the exact moment.