The Strength to Start Over
My wife's childhood friend, a gambling addict she had known since childhood, returned to Dryana. To help him pay off his debts, she stole and sold my medical patent.
Before it happened, I confronted her. I tried to stop her. I even threatened to call the police.
Amanda Carroll looked at me as if I had disappointed her beyond repair. "Enough, Cedric Lunsford. You're a grown man. Can you stop nitpicking over every little thing?
"Don isn't like you. He's in trouble right now. You make that much money. What's wrong with giving him a little? I'm already your wife. Are you seriously going to tell me where my heart is allowed to be?"
I gathered the evidence and headed to the police station. Halfway there, my brakes failed. The car slammed into the guardrail. Metal crumpled and glass shattered. I was pinned in the driver's seat, drenched in blood, forcing out my last breath as I called for help.
Amanda's voice on the line was flat, almost bored. "Stop yelling. Don can't stand bloody scenes. Don't make him sick. Your insurance payout is enough for him to start over. Consider it the last duty you perform as a husband."
At that moment, I understood. Even at the end, she chose his gambling debt. She chose murder and an insurance payout.
The vehicle exploded. Nothing remained of me.
Then I opened my eyes again. I was back on the day her "childhood sweetheart" returned.
This time, I did not stop her from going to the airport. I picked up my phone and called my senior overseas.
"I'll sell you the patent. And the position you mentioned, I'm in. See you in three days."