Chapter 1

The doctor' s words were simple, clean, and final.

"Six months, Sarah. Maybe less."

I nodded, the hum of the office air conditioner suddenly loud in the silence. There was nothing else to say. I had spent my life working, saving, sacrificing. Now, the finish line had been moved up, unexpectedly close.

My first thought was of David. My son. He was my whole world, the reason for every long shift and every penny saved. I had just updated my will a week ago, leaving him everything-the house, the savings, the stocks I' d carefully nurtured. It was a comfortable sum, enough to ensure he and his family would never have to worry.

I wanted to give him the world I never had.

That was why I' d spent the entire day in the kitchen, my back aching, my breath short. It was Christmas Eve, and I was making David' s favorite meal: a standing rib roast, creamy mashed potatoes, green bean casserole, and my famous apple pie. His wife, Jessica, preferred seafood, so I' d also bought a ridiculous amount of king crab legs. Even their son, my grandson Noah, had a special plate of chicken fingers, the only thing he' d eat without complaining.

The table was set for four. The house smelled of pine and cinnamon. By six o' clock, everything was perfect, resting on the counter, waiting.

At six-fifteen, my phone rang. It was David.

"Mom, hey. Merry Christmas Eve."

"Merry Christmas, honey. Are you guys close? Everything' s ready."

There was a pause. I heard the clinking of glasses and faint music in the background. It didn't sound like a car.

"Yeah, about that... we' re kind of stuck in some crazy traffic on the interstate. A big pile-up. It' s not moving at all. I don' t think we' re going to make it tonight."

My heart sank. "Oh. Oh, okay. Is everyone alright?"

"Yeah, yeah, we' re fine. Just bumper to bumper. Listen, we' ll come over first thing tomorrow morning, I promise. Don' t wait up for us."

"Alright, honey. Drive safe. I love you."

"Love you too, Mom. Talk to you-"

The line didn't disconnect. I heard a muffled sound, then Jessica' s sharp voice, clear as a bell.

"Is she off? Did she buy it?"

I froze, the phone still pressed to my ear. My hand started to tremble.

David' s voice was lower, but I could still hear him. "Yeah, she bought it. Poor thing is probably sitting at home with a whole feast cooked."

Jessica laughed, a sound like ice cubes rattling in a glass. "Well, better her than me. Can you imagine spending Christmas Eve in that stuffy little house? God, David, I' m so glad your father invited us here. This is where we belong."

My father. She meant my ex-husband, Daniel Hayes. The man who had left me thirty years ago.

"Look at this place," Jessica continued, her voice filled with awe. "This is real wealth. Not like your mom' s little nest egg. Daniel' s new wife, Lisa, her ring is probably worth more than your mom's entire house."

A cold dread seeped into my bones, chilling me from the inside out. I couldn't move. I could barely breathe.

David sighed. "I know, Jess. It' s just... I feel a little bad. She was expecting us."

"Feel bad? David, you should feel angry! She' s the reason you didn' t have all this from the start. If your father had raised you instead of her, you' d be a Hayes. You' d be set for life. You wouldn' t have had to struggle."

The words hit me like physical blows. Struggle. I had worked two jobs to put him through college. I sold my own mother' s jewelry to afford the down payment on his first home. I had given him everything I had, every single day of my life.

"She held you back," Jessica hissed. "She was selfish, keeping you all to herself. She didn't want you to have a relationship with your real father, your successful father."

I heard my ex-husband, Daniel, say something in a detached, amused tone. "Now, now, Jessica. Sarah did her best."

"Her best wasn' t good enough!" Jessica shot back. "And now she' s clinging to that money of hers. We have to play nice, David, you know that. We need to make sure you' re in that will. Once we secure that, and get in good with your father, we can finally have the life we deserve."

The life they deserved.

My son, my David, the little boy I had held and rocked to sleep, the boy whose scraped knees I had bandaged, spoke then. His voice was laced with a resentment so deep it made my stomach turn.

"You' re right, Jess. You' re absolutely right. I resent every single day I spent in that house, knowing what I could have had. She' s the reason I' m a Miller and not a Hayes."

The phone finally clicked dead.

I stood there in the silent kitchen, the scent of the beautiful meal I had prepared now making me sick. The love and hope I had poured into it had turned to ash in my mouth.

They weren' t stuck in traffic. They were at my ex-husband' s mansion, celebrating with his new family, laughing at me. My son, my only son, saw me as nothing more than an obstacle and a bank account.

The warmth in my chest, the love that had defined my entire existence, went cold. A new feeling replaced it, hard and clear as diamond.

Fine. If I was just a will to him, then I would write a new one.