A memory, sharp and unwanted, flooded my mind.
Another life, it felt like.
In that life, I had screamed, refused to sign. I told the Innovatech board about Mark and Chloe.
Chloe lost her internship.
Then, she staged a suicide attempt, a public spectacle, blaming me. Big Sur, a remote cliff, a tearful rescue.
Mark, full of guilt, manipulated by her tears, came back to me. He said he was sorry.
I believed him.
A year later, on the anniversary of Chloe' s "incident," our car went off the road. A winding mountain pass.
Mark was driving.
I died. Lily, our one-year-old Lily, died with me.
I blinked. The ICU room snapped back into focus. Mark was still there, holding the divorce papers.
The same words on his lips. "Sign it, Sarah. For Chloe."
But this time, I knew.
This time, Lily was a newborn, fragile, needing me.
I took the pen. My hand trembled, but not from fear. From a cold, new resolve.
"Okay, Mark," I said.
My voice was calm. Too calm. It surprised him. I saw a flicker in his eyes.
I signed the papers.
He mumbled something about a small settlement, an insult disguised as generosity.
I didn't care about the money.
I thought of the years I gave him, the genius I poured into Innovatech so he could shine. He took it all, my intellect, my love, and gave back only cruelty.
My motivation was singular now: Lily.
I would not let her die again. I would protect her.
This was my second chance. His downfall would be my design.