Chapter 2

The words hung in the air, a perfect echo of the past.

"Mark, I want a divorce."

In my first life, those words had shattered me. They were a hammer blow that cracked the foundation of my world, sending me into a spiral of confusion and grief. I had begged, I had pleaded, I had asked what I did wrong.

This time, I felt nothing but a glacial calm. The pain was still there, a deep, permanent scar on my soul, but it was now a source of strength, not weakness. It fueled a cold, clear-headed rage that focused my mind like a laser.

I just stared at her, my silence unnerving her. She shifted her weight, a flicker of impatience in her eyes.

"Did you hear me, Mark? It's over."

As I looked at her, something strange happened. It was like a switch flipped behind my eyes. A shimmering, digital number materialized in the air just above her perfectly styled blonde hair.

[$8,150,432]

I blinked, shaking my head slightly. The number remained, glowing with a soft, green light. It was precise, down to the last dollar. I knew, with an instinct I couldn't explain, what it was. It was her net worth. The money I had given her, the assets I had put in her name, the jewelry, the trust fund. It was all there, quantified in a simple, damning number. I had gained a new ability. I could see what people were worth.

The front door opened, and David Stone walked in. He didn't even knock. In my first life, I had been shocked by his casual entrance. Now, I expected it. He was handsome in a cheap, predatory way, with a smile that was all teeth and no warmth. He wrapped an arm around Sarah' s waist, pulling her close. A clear act of possession.

"Is he giving you trouble, honey?" David asked, his eyes flicking over to me with open contempt.

I focused on him, and a new number appeared above his head. This one glowed a stark, alarming red.

[-$20,789,140]

Negative twenty million dollars. The number was so staggering, so utterly catastrophic, that I almost laughed out loud. So this was the man my wife was leaving me for. Not a brilliant entrepreneur, but a con artist drowning in a sea of red ink. The "new venture" he needed capital for wasn't a business; it was a desperate attempt to pay off his gambling debts. Sarah, with her eight million dollars, wasn't his partner. She was his next mark.

"Mark," Sarah said, her voice taking on that whining tone I now recognized as a tool of manipulation. "David and I are in love. I can't live this lie anymore."

Lie. The word was so ironic it was almost painful. She spoke of living a lie while being the master of deceit. I looked at her, at the eight-million-dollar figure, then at David, the negative twenty-million-dollar black hole. The entire pathetic scheme was laid bare before me. She thought she was trading up, securing a more exciting, passionate life. In reality, she was a lamb walking willingly to the slaughter, and David was holding the knife.

My heart, which I thought had been reduced to ash, felt a flicker of something new. It wasn't love or pain. It was a cold, thrilling sense of purpose. In my first life, I had lost everything. They had taken my money, my health, my son, my life, and even the truth about my own mother. They had left me to die broken and alone.

This time would be different. This time, I had seen the ending. And I was going to write a new one. A wave of clarity washed over me. The grief and shock from my past life transformed into an unshakeable resolve. I would not just survive. I would have my revenge. And I would make it a masterpiece.