Chapter Nine

Six years later 

Kyla

That’s how long it’s been since I last saw the skyline of New York City.

The sharp lines of the towering buildings, the chaos of yellow cabs honking down Fifth Avenue, and the smell God, I’d forgotten the smell of roasted peanuts and hot dog stands blending with the distinct scent of rain hitting concrete.

I stare out of the cab window, my fingers tightening around the leather strap of my purse. Chanel is asleep beside me, her tiny head leaning against my side. Elias sits on the other end, earbuds in and eyes focused on the screen of his iPad. They don’t know what this city means to me, what ghosts lie buried beneath its glittering streets.

But they will. One day, they will.

“Here we are, ma’am,” the cab driver says, pulling up outside the modest brownstone I’d rented through an alias.

I nod and reach for my wallet. “Thanks,” I say, handing over the fare and nudging Chanel gently. “Sweetheart, we’re here.”

She blinks up at me sleepily, then stretches her little arms and yawns, just like I used to as a child.

My heart aches at the thought.

Once, I was her. Innocent. Hopeful. Convinced that the world was safe and that love was the reward for being kind.

That illusion died the day my husband Jake Donovan betrayed me with my own sister and let me be buried in their past like roadkill. I had given him my heart, my body, and years of my life and Amina had taken everything else.

My name. My place. My life.

But not anymore.

We step into the brownstone, and I do a quick check. Clean. Private. Enough space for the kids and I to lay low while I prepare for what comes next.

“Elias, take your sister upstairs and let her pick her room, okay?”

He nods, already slipping into big-brother mode, and I listen to the sound of their small feet climbing the stairs.

As soon as they're out of sight, I sink onto the edge of the worn leather couch and pull out my phone.

I type in the familiar name, Jake Donovan, and wait as the screen loads.

The first image that comes up nearly takes the breath from my lungs.

Jake and Amina. Still married. Still pretending. Her hand is on his chest, her smile wide and artificial, while Jake stares at the camera with that same dashing charm that once melted my insides. But now? I see him for what he is a liar, a coward, and a traitor.

There’s a child between them, too. A boy around five. My stomach twists. Amina had a child with him. Whether that was her goal all along or just another calculated step, it doesn’t matter. She succeeded in taking everything from me.

Almost everything.

Because she didn’t take my spirit. She didn’t take my children. And she sure as hell didn’t take my truth.

I glance at the framed news headline I printed before I came here:

*“MISSING WOMAN PRESUMED DEAD: KYLA PARK’S CLOTHES FOUND IN HUDSON RIVER.”

Underneath is a photo of me well, the version of me that no longer exists. The quiet housewife. The doting wife. The loyal sister.

That woman died in the Hudson River.

What rose in her place was someone new.

I pull the elastic from my braid and shake out my hair. It’s darker now, dyed chestnut brown instead of its natural black. My eyes, once lined with the soft gentleness of love, are sharper. My lips, fuller. My body, hardened with time and resilience.

I look like a stranger even to myself.

And that’s a good thing.

There will be no tearful reunions. No dramatic reveals in the middle of a thunderstorm.

No.

My revenge will be slow. Precise. Poetic.

They’ll never see it coming.

Ding.

A notification buzzes on my phone.

It's a community event listing: Donovan Industries Charity Gala An Evening to Remember. Hosted by Jake Donovan and Amina Park Donovan.

I smirk, eyes narrowing on the invitation.

Oh, how fitting.

An evening to remember.

The memory of cold water dragging me under. The way my vision went black. The way I *knew* Jake wouldn’t come. That he’d chosen her.

And now they stand together on red carpets, dripping in wealth and false smiles, while I raised their niece and nephew in silence, building a life from the ashes of my own.

But this city? It was once mine.

And it will be again.

“Mom?” Elias appears on the stairs, holding Chanel’s hand. “She picked the room with the big window. Is that okay?”

I smile, softening as I look at their faces. They don’t know it, but they saved me. On the nights I wanted to let go, to drown in the pain and grief, their little kicks in my belly reminded me of what still mattered.

Family.

But not the one I came from.

The one I chose.

“That’s perfect, baby,” I say, standing up and pulling them into a hug. “We’re going to be okay here.”

“Are we staying for long?” Chanel asks, looking up at me with those big brown eyes that mirror Jake’s a little too much.

I brush a hand down her curls and nod. “Long enough to do what we came for.”

“And what’s that?” Elias asks, head tilted.

I smile again, a secret burning behind my teeth. “To remind the world that sometimes, the dead don’t stay buried.”

And as I watch the last light of the city shimmer through the window, I whisper to myself, “Jake Donovan... I’m back.”