Her Second Chance

“You may kill me with your hatefulness,

But still, like air, I’ll rise.”

— Maya Angelou, Still I Rise

**CALISTA**

I died… so why did I still feel alive?

Light stabbed my vision—white, then black, then blurred faces hovered around me.

For a moment, all I did was breathe. Maybe this was purgatory, but the air was cold, and voices crisped around me.

This was not a hospital or cemetery. This was… my company's boardroom?

My heart slammed hard in my chest as my fragmented vision cleared up.

I waited for the burn of the knife in my stomach. For the stickiness of my life's blood pouring out of me, but it never came.

No way…

I was alive. And everything felt terrifyingly familiar.

I looked down at my manicured hands pressed flat against my boardroom table.

The realisation hit me like a tidal wave, and only when someone shifted uncomfortably did it register what today was.

5th March, 2022. My husband's birthday and our third wedding anniversary.

Four years before I…died.

This could not be real. Was I really reborn?

My prayers…they must have been answered.

Oh, dear God…

“Honey, is everything alright?” An eerily familiar voice filtered through my ears.

Merrick.

His hand covered mine, and I felt hives break out on my skin. I withdrew my hand quickly, feeling the room spin with so many curious stares.

He let her kill me, and he dared to sit there like nothing happened. Like he ever loved me.

Today was the day I signed the power of attorney to him, giving him full rights to make unanimous decisions.

Today was the day I signed my death certificate.

My neck turned fully to him, to the tight set of his jaw and the fake warmth that never met his eyes.

“Sign the papers, honey. Everyone is waiting.” He pushed the documents across the table, pressing a pen into my cold fingers.

My heart pounded furiously, fingers trembling around the hard plastic.

In the past, Merrick had complained about feeling left out in the company's decision making, and wouldn't talk to me for an entire week.

So, in maddening fear of losing the man I thought I loved, I had promised to bend my will again, all for his happiness.

If I signed this, if I gave in one more time, I might never get another chance.

My body surged off my seat, the scraping noise jolting the attentive room.

“Calista…” Merrick rose abruptly, hands reaching for me—the perfect image of a doting husband.

But in my eyes, his hands became knives, and they cut wherever he touched. With a muffled scream, I pulled away from him, and there were no more cuts. Just his hands, and distance, and me.

“I would like to speak to Mr. Fairfax.” Not my husband.

The room stilled, directors and secretaries hanging on to every thread of my discomfort.

“Alone. Now, please.”

“Do as she says.” Merrick muttered, and that was when they cleared out.

How much did I shrink myself so this man could shine?

The glass doors shut, and I watched his mask struggle to stay in place. I was ruining his plans.

“What's with the hesitation, love?” He stepped closer, voice lowering to the tone he used for only me.

How stupid I must have been…

“I cannot sign that document.” I said, my heart skipping with every tick of his jaw.

He sucked a breath through his teeth.

“This morning you said you were ready, now, you are…what are you…what are you doing?”

“I have the right to change my mind, do I not?” I tried to sound intimidating, but my voice was a hoarse whisper, and he reached out to tuck my hair from my face.

“Have you taken your meds, sweetie? I can send for Chen to get them for you.”

My stomach heaved, bile rushing up my throat.

“I do not want…excuse me.” I brushed past him and made a beeline for the glass doors.

Something warm shot up into my throat, and I knew I would not make it to my office without spewing my breakfast all over the walls.

I burst into the ladies room at the end of the glossy hallway and retched into the nearest stall.

My hair fell freely into my face as my stomach twisted and churned.

Spent, I pushed off the toilet seat, flushed and rinsed my mouth at the sink.

Memory crashed back into me, and dread crept up my spine. Suddenly, I found myself wishing I wasn't reborn on this day.

I was…pregnant, but I wouldn't be in three weeks.

The sound of the cries ripping from my throat on that awful night flooded my ears, and I pressed my palms flat on the counter, bending forward with a groan.

I sacrificed my body to give that sick man a child, and I was willing to bet that he was already sleeping with my sister.

A deep ache started behind my ribs, and I pressed my palm to the child that I would soon lose.

Chromosomal abnormalities, the doctors said.

There was nothing they could do. Nothing to save the heartbeat of our child. Of course I did not tell Merrick. He would have been disappointed.

I still would not tell him, because…fuck him.

My throat felt parched, and I smoothed a hand over my hair to look a little bit better. A little bit normal.

I needed a plan, and fast. Merrick would want reasons, but I would not give him what he wanted. I would give him what he least expected.

War.

I would make life hell for him and Astrid, by God, I would.

I just needed to know how. But first, I needed to escape this building without Merrick seeing me.

I wiped my mouth and headed for the door, pausing to poke my head into the hall.

No sight of him, or anyone.

Maybe he was somewhere, stewing like a man child. More time for me.

My heels pinched my toes as I tiptoed down the hall and into the elevator.

The doors slammed shut, sealing in my panic.

Merrick was a dirty player, and if he managed to hide his true self for years, God knows if I would ever see him coming.

I needed something, or someone. Someone who knew Merrick inside out, except his family, of course.

I never meant a nickel's worth to them.

The doors pinged open, and I stepped into the wide reception as a name nagged in my mind.

It came to me in a flash, and I forced myself to forget, but his name had already rolled into my mind like a wrecking ball.

Atlas Kane.

Merrick used to be best friends with him. If there was anyone who knew him more than his own mother, it would be Atlas.

My heels clicked against the marble floor, and the doorman held open the glass door with a short nod.

Sunlight pricked my skin, and my stomach nagged with the absence of food, but I tamped it down and signalled my driver to bring the car around.

The air smelled of water meeting earth, and for a moment I felt steady, grounded, even.

I was alive…and walking straight into a self made hell.

I glanced over my shoulder. Nobody recognised me. Good.

Atlas and I used to…talk. But after his falling out with Merrick, I had to pick the only option that guaranteed my future as heiress to my father's empire.

My black Range Rover pulled up in front of me and I hurried inside, resting my aching back against the hard leather.

With a tremble in my lip, I gave my driver the address of the one man I was supposed to avoid.

God, help me not to mess this up.

********

Titan Media Group loomed over me like a dark cloud.

I had never seen this place in person, only on the tabloids and Television, and I felt overwhelmed by the pristine glass windows and revolving doors that swarmed with people in suits and casual corporate, chatting away and brushing past me like I was invisible.

To see that Atlas built this masterpiece all on his own, I felt less hopeful that he would ever take my deal, or even look at me twice.

A tremor started in my spine, and I reminded myself that this was worth a shot.

He had to listen to me.

I cleared my throat loudly and walked up the short granite staircase, stopping short when the revolving door swished around.

Two men emerged from the building, one carrying a suitcase, hustling behind the other man walking right towards me.

I felt the blood drain from my face when his eyes registered on me. His eyes flickered for a moment—surprise, quickly buried under ice.

He looked just like the tabloids, or even better.

Sea blue eyes with soft crinkles at the edges, lips almost imitating a small heart, his haircut was shorter than the last time I saw him, and it made him look almost boyish. Innocent, even.

Until he stopped short with a frown, and I remembered my place on the other side of the line.

“Atlas…” my voice faltered.

“If it isn't the infamous Calista Winslow. Shouldn't you be standing beside Merrick these days?”

He gave me a quick once over and picked up his stride, brushing right past me.

I spun around, eyes wide as a black Rolls Royce pulled up at the curb.

He was leaving.

No…

“Wait!” I followed hot on his heels. “This is important…”

“Whatever this is, it is not my problem.” He said briskly, stalking down the short flight of stairs.

Like a fool, I trudged behind him. The infamous Calista Winslow, reduced to a begging nuisance for Atlas Kane.

His driver held open the door, and the man behind him put a hand between us, nudging my belly backwards.

“Don't touch me.” I brushed his hand away, throat stinging with tears unshed.

What was I thinking, coming here?

“Let her through.” Atlas sighed and leaned against the hood as I stepped towards him.

“If you would just listen to me for a moment —”

“Get in.” His voice cut in.

I blinked.

“My car is parked just —”

“I'll have someone watch it for you. I have places to be, so, either get in, or forget it.” His frown deepened, icy blue eyes boring into my skull.

Maybe I should have turned around and left, but I had one shot left before my life crumbled in Merrick's hands again.

I had already died before. What was the worst that could happen?