Chapter 2

Sarah sat on the floor of the nursery, the silence of the room pressing in on her. How had she been so stupid? How had she missed all the signs? The late nights he' d claimed were for work, the sudden secrecy around his phone, the way he' d started to look right through her.

She had believed every word because she had wanted to. She had wanted the dream he sold her. The perfect family. A happy life. She had been a fool.

The front door slammed, shaking her from her thoughts. Mark strode into the apartment, his face dark with anger. The remorseful act was gone.

"What the hell was that today, Sarah?" he demanded. "You made me look like an asshole at the funeral home."

Sarah looked up at him, her eyes dry. "You are an asshole, Mark."

"I'm trying to help you, and you're just throwing it back in my face," he continued, pacing the small room. "You're obsessed with money. That's all this has ever been about for you. Squeezing every last dime out of me."

The accusation was so absurd it was almost funny. She had worked herself to the bone. She had begged him for a fraction of what he' d spent on a necklace, and he had refused.

A strange calm settled over her. The fight was gone, replaced by a chilling clarity. "I want a divorce," she said, her voice even.

Mark stopped pacing. He stared at her, a flicker of shock in his eyes. Then, his expression smoothed into one of cold indifference. "Fine."

He walked over to the bookshelf, pulled out a large manila envelope, and tossed it on the floor in front of her. "I was wondering when you'd get around to it."

Divorce papers. Already prepared. Dated a month ago. He had been planning this all along. He had been waiting for the right moment to discard her.

She picked up the pen from the end table and signed her name on the dotted line. Her hand didn't even tremble. It was just a formality. Their marriage had died long before their son.

He watched her, a smug look on his face. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a checkbook. He scribbled a number, tore out the check, and let it flutter down onto the signed papers.

"Here," he said, his voice dripping with condescension. "A little something to get you started. Consider it severance pay."

The amount on the check made her stomach clench. It was more than enough to have paid for Liam's surgery. Ten times over. He' d had the money all along. He just hadn't wanted to spend it on his son.

She remembered her desperate, pleading phone calls from the hospital. His cold refusals. The memory was a fresh wound.

She picked up the check, folded it neatly, and slid it into her pocket. She would use it. But not for herself. She would give Liam the memorial he deserved.

Just then, the apartment buzzer rang. Mark went to answer it, and a moment later, Jessica White waltzed in as if she owned the place. She was wearing the diamond necklace. It glittered under the dim light, mocking Sarah.

Jessica' s eyes scanned the room, a look of distaste on her face. "God, this place is depressing," she said, her gaze landing on Sarah, who was still on the floor. "Are you still here?"

She turned to Mark, draping herself over his arm. "Mark, honey, why is she still here? You said you'd handle it."

Then she looked back at Sarah, her lips curling into a sneer. "I guess it' s a good thing you won't have that sick kid draining his bank account anymore. Now he can spend his money on someone who actually deserves it."

The world went red. The insult, so casual and cruel, broke through Sarah's grief-numbed haze. It was an attack on Liam. Her son.

A primal scream tore from her throat. She launched herself up from the floor, her only thought to claw that smug, ugly look off Jessica's face.

Mark reacted instantly. He shoved Sarah hard, sending her stumbling backward. He stood in front of Jessica, a human shield.

"Get a hold of yourself, Sarah! You're acting insane!" he yelled, his face contorted with fury.

Sarah stared at him, at the man protecting the woman who had just insulted their dead child. The love she once felt had curdled into pure, unadulterated hatred. She had nothing left to lose. And in that moment, she was no longer afraid of him.