Chapter 4

But it wasn' t.

I woke up again, hours later, in my bed. My throat was sore, my body weak, but I was alive.

The dose hadn' t been fatal enough.

Damn it.

On the bedside table, an epinephrine auto-injector lay next to a folded piece of paper.

A note. From Ethan.

His handwriting, usually so elegant, was a rushed scrawl.

"Don't be stupid again."

That was all.

A stark contrast to the notes he used to leave me, years ago, when we were first married.

Little love notes tucked into my purse, on my pillow.

"My beautiful Sarah, thinking of you."

"Can't wait to see you tonight."

Those notes were a distant, painful memory now. This one was just cold.

He hadn't wanted me to die then, not like that.

Not because it would inconvenience him, or perhaps, a tiny, buried shard of something else, something long dead, had stirred in him.

I didn't know. I didn't care.

It was just a delay.

A few days later, Ashley approached Ethan with a new idea.

I overheard them talking in his study.

"Ethan, darling," Ashley cooed, "Sarah's resilience... it's remarkable, isn't it? Think of the medical breakthroughs! If her regenerative abilities could be studied..."

She paused, then added softly, "It could even benefit us... perhaps a future child of ours, to ensure they are always healthy."

A child. Their child. The thought was a dull ache.

"There's a private research facility," Ashley continued, "very discreet, cutting-edge. They could do some tests, understand her unique condition."

Ethan was silent for a moment.

I knew that silence. He was considering it.

Exploiting me further. Of course.

"It might be for the greater good, Ethan," Ashley pressed. "And for us."

"Perhaps," he finally said. "I'll look into it."

My stomach twisted. A research facility. Dissection.

It sounded like a more certain way to reach my hundredth death.

Maybe Ashley, in her cruelty, would finally give me what I wanted.