Chapter 2

For several seconds after Charity spoke, the line went silent. Then Daniel laughed.

It wasn't a nervous laugh. He was genuinely amused, as though she had just told him a joke.

"Divorce?" His voice dripped with disbelief. "Charity, are you serious right now?"

She stood beside her car and said nothing.

"Where exactly do you plan to go once you leave this house?" he pressed. "Do you have somewhere to stay? Any family waiting for you?"

Her expression didn't change. In her previous life, those questions would have terrified her. She was an orphan with no one to turn to, and Daniel had always known how to use that against her. Every argument ended the same way, with him reminding her that she had nowhere else to go.

This time, the fear never came. Daniel had no idea what was coming, and she wasn't going to tell him.

"You've lived with us for years," he went on, his tone turning scornful. "You think you can just walk away whenever you feel like it? Stop being childish and come home."

Home. A bitter laugh nearly escaped her. That house had never been her home. It was the place where she had spent years serving people who never once saw her as family.

When the scorn failed to move her, Daniel changed tactics. His voice softened into something gentle and coaxing. "You know Leo is crying for you, don't you?"

Her fingers tightened around the phone.

"He keeps asking where you are," Daniel murmured. "Do you really want to abandon him?"

The old Charity would have crumbled under that guilt. But the woman standing beside the car was not the old Charity.

"Leo isn't my son," she said.

Daniel fell silent. She continued before he could recover. "You know that better than anyone."

"What are you talking about?" he asked slowly.

"You want me to go back and raise your child again?" Her voice stayed calm, almost gentle, which only made it cut deeper. "Daniel, Leo is Vanessa's biological son. You've known that since the day he was born."

The silence that followed was heavy. She could almost picture his face, the color draining from it as he searched for a lie.

"Stop talking nonsense," he finally growled.

"You know I'm telling the truth."

"You've lost your mind."

"No," she replied softly. "I just remember everything now."

His breathing grew ragged, but she gave him no time to argue.

"I want the divorce papers signed as soon as possible. I don't want the house, your money, or anything else from you. Sign the papers and we're done."

Daniel scoffed. "You really think I'll sign divorce papers because you're throwing a tantrum?"

"I'm not asking you to change your mind. I'm telling you what I want."

"You'll regret this," he hissed.

"I won't."

"You think you can survive without me?"

"I'll manage."

That was what finally broke him. "Fine!" he roared. "Leave, then! Go wherever you want. But don't come crying back to me when you realize you have nowhere to go!"

The line went dead.

Charity lowered the phone and waited for the sadness to arrive. It never did. Neither did anger. What she felt instead was relief, so deep and quiet that it surprised her, like setting down a burden she had carried for years without ever noticing its weight.

Daniel believed she would come crawling back. He had no idea that this was the last time she would ever depend on him.

Before getting into her car, she typed one final message.

I won't cover any of your family's living expenses anymore. Don't contact me about money.

She sent it and blocked his number. There was nothing left to discuss. The ties were cut, and what she needed now was a place of her own.

She had only driven a short distance when her phone rang again. It was an unfamiliar number. She almost ignored it, but something made her answer.

"Hello?"

"Am I speaking with Miss Charity?" a man asked.

"Yes, this is she."

"My name is Michael Carter. I'm a lawyer with Carter & Associates."

Her brows drew together. "How can I help you?"

"I've been trying to reach you for some time," he explained. "I'm calling about an inheritance left to you by your late grandparents."

The light ahead turned red, and she eased to a stop, her eyes widening. "An inheritance?"

"Yes. Your grandparents left a substantial estate in your name. According to the documents, you are the sole beneficiary."

Her grip tightened on the steering wheel. She remembered this. In her previous life, the inheritance had arrived shortly after the heatwave began, when she had been too consumed with keeping Daniel's family alive to think of herself. The moment the money reached her, she had poured nearly all of it into food, medicine, generators, fuel, and supplies for them. She had believed they would survive together.

Instead, they had used up everything she gave and then thrown her outside to die.

A quiet, humorless laugh escaped her. Not this time.

"How much is it?" she asked.

The lawyer named the figure, and Charity fell silent. It was far more than she had expected, enough to change all of her plans. In her last life, that fortune had kept Daniel's family comfortable for months. In this one, every cent would belong to her.

"Where do I need to go to complete the process?"

He gave her the details, and they agreed to meet the next morning.

When the call ended, she sat motionless in the car, gazing through the windshield at the people drifting along the street.

 They were laughing, chatting, carrying shopping bags, and not one of them suspected a thing. In seven days, everything would change. 

But Charity had no intention of waiting until the last moment.

She needed a new home, and not just any home. She needed a place that could become a fortress when the heat came.

She opened her phone and began scrolling through property listings, ruling things out as she went. Luxury apartments were out. 

Tall city buildings were out. Houses crammed into crowded neighborhoods were out too. 

She needed space and privacy, and above all, a property that could be reinforced before the apocalypse arrived.

The requirements formed in her mind one by one. A large basement would be useful. 

A private water source would be even better. There had to be room for solar panels and backup generators, strong walls, good ventilation, and enough storage for food and water.

Dozens of listings slid past under her thumb. Then she stopped.

One property held her attention. It was a large house on the outskirts of the city, enclosed by a high wall and surrounded by several acres of land. It had a basement.

 And somewhere on the grounds, according to the listing, was a private well.

She studied the photos for several long seconds, and slowly, a smile curved her lips. This could work.

She saved the listing. Tomorrow, she would see it in person.

This time, she wasn't building a home for a husband or his family. She was building a place where Charity would survive.