CHAPTER 3: Second Chance

Sunlight came through silk curtains I forgot I owned. It felt warm on skin that shouldn't exist. I buried myself deeper into the soft sheets. I was chasing the last moments before I woke up with all the pain.

But something was wrong.

The bed under me was too soft, too familiar. My bed had been a torn futon in an apartment full of roaches. Not this king sized bed I once shared with...

My eyes opened fast.

Cream walls. Crystal light hanging from the ceiling. The Monet picture Brock bought for our second anniversary. This was our bedroom. My bedroom. From before everything turned to ashes.

I sat up fast. My heart was beating hard. My legs moved without the grinding pain that had been part of my life for two years. I threw back the blanket and stared at my legs. They looked healthy and shiny. My skin was smooth instead of covered in scars.

These weren't my legs. My legs were broken, twisted, useless.

I walked to the mirror. I was scared of what I would see. The face looking back made my knees weak. My skin had no marks where loan sharks carved their warnings. My hair was shiny instead of dry and broken. My eyes were bright with life instead of empty and sad.

This was impossible.

The digital calendar on my nightstand glowed. It showed a date from exactly one year ago. The day before Brock and Emma died. My phone said the same impossible date.

"Mommy!"

The bedroom door burst open. Three year old Emma ran at my legs. She wrapped her tiny arms around my waist. The impact almost knocked me over. Not from how heavy she was, but from the pure joy on her face.

She knew who I was. She remembered me.

I dropped to my knees. I pulled her into my arms. She smelled like strawberry shampoo and innocence. Hot tears ran down my cheeks as I held my daughter.

"My Emma," I whispered into her curls. "Tell Mommy, who am I? Who is your mommy?"

"You, Mommy!" She giggled. She pressed sticky kisses on my wet cheeks. "You're my only mommy and you're the best in the whole world! Why are you crying? Don't cry, Mommy."

Her small hands wiped my tears away. She was so gentle. Only children can be that kind. This was my Emma. Not the scared girl who called me a scary lady. This was my baby who loved me completely.

"Daddy said you shouldn't worry," Emma said. She sat in my lap like she belonged there. "He's picking me up after the school field trip tomorrow."

Ice filled my body. The field trip. Brock faked the accident while picking her up from the field trip. He made Emma disappear from my life forever. But not this time. Not this time. I knew what was coming.

"Where is Daddy now, sweetheart?"

"Having breakfast! Come on, Mommy!" She pulled my hand toward the door.

"You go ahead, baby. Mommy needs to get dressed first."

Emma skipped away. She hummed a song I taught her. A song she would forget during two years of Tatiana lying to her. But not this time.

When her footsteps faded, I walked quietly toward Brock's study. The room he told me never to enter. He said it had sensitive client information. Now I knew what he was really hiding.

I searched everywhere for the papers. I found them tucked behind fake panels in his fancy desk. Bank accounts in the Caymans. Loan papers adding up to fifty million dollars. All with my signature forged. Flight bookings to Los Angeles for three people. Brock, Tatiana, and Emma.

The business papers made my hands shake. "Magnificent Fashion House" built on my stolen designs. Paid for with debt in my name.

My phone camera took pictures of every page. Every signature. Every piece of proof of his planned betrayal. I heard footsteps in the hall. They were getting closer. I shoved the papers back into their hiding place. I slipped behind the heavy curtains just as Brock came in.

He went straight to the desk. He checked the papers carefully. He was paranoid. Something about the room felt wrong to him. Papers moved a little bit. The faint smell of my perfume where it shouldn't be.

"Bethany?" he called. But I held my breath until he finally left for work.

After I made sure Emma was safe playing with her dolls, I went back to our bedroom. My hands were shaking. If Brock hid papers, what else did he prepare?

Our walk-in closet felt different somehow. Too organized. Too empty. My evening gowns hung in perfect rows. But something was missing. I pushed deeper into the space. Toward Brock's section.

Behind his winter coats, hidden in the corner where I never looked, sat two large suitcases.

I couldn't breathe as I opened the first one. Emma's clothes were folded neatly. Her favorite purple dress with the unicorn on it. The pajamas with dancing bears. Tiny socks rolled into perfect balls. Months of planning laid out in cotton and silk.

The second suitcase almost broke me.

Mr. Whiskers sat there. Emma's beloved stuffed rabbit. Tucked between tiny shoes. The rabbit she couldn't sleep without. The one she owned since birth. The one that smelled like her baby shampoo and my lullabies.

Brock had already stolen it from her room.

My hands shook as I lifted the worn toy. I imagined Emma crying for Mr. Whiskers in some strange bed. Tatiana would tell her that Mommy didn't want her anymore. How many nights had he been sneaking things away? Erasing me from Emma's life piece by piece?

I held Mr. Whiskers to my chest. He was so familiar and soft. It kept me angry instead of sad.

They planned everything except for this moment. This second chance.

Then I left the room. I went to Emma in the kitchen. She was playing with her dolls.

I bent down beside her. I memorized every freckle, every giggle, every perfect detail of the daughter they tried to steal from me. "Listen to me, baby," I whispered. I pulled her close. "No matter what happens, remember that Mommy loves you more than anything in this world."

"I love you too, Mommy!"

As Emma's arms tightened around my neck, I made a silent promise.

Mommy's going to save us both and make Daddy pay for everything he planned to do.