Chapter 1

The sound of shattering glass ripped through the polite dinner conversation, Mr. Henderson's fork clattered against his plate.

I stood there, hand still clenched, the neck of the broken beer bottle a jagged weapon in my fist.

Izzy, my wife, stared at me, her eyes wide with a fear that wasn't entirely feigned this time.

"Ethan, what are you doing?" she whispered, her voice trembling.

This was it, the moment, the exact dinner where everything went to hell last time.

Last time, I drank, I played the good host for Henderson, just like Izzy wanted.

Last time, I woke up to a nightmare. Lily, my sweet Lily, dead. A note, a frame-up.

Izzy, my loving wife, pointed her finger, her face a mask of grief that fooled everyone.

"He did it," she'd screamed, "He abused her, he drove her to it!"

Carol, my stepmother, that viper, publicly disowned me, her eyes cold, calculating.

My father, Richard, his heart already weak, couldn't take the shock, he died.

And me? I died in a prison shivving, a murderer in everyone's eyes, a monster.

But I was back, reborn into this exact moment, this goddamn dinner.

Izzy was speaking again, her hand reaching for mine, "Ethan, honey, are you okay? You look pale."

She was good, so good at playing the concerned wife.

"You want me to drink, Izzy?" I snarled, my voice raw, "You want me to get Henderson on board, seal the deal for the brewery?"

Her eyes flickered, just for a second, a hint of the calculation I now knew so well.

"Of course, darling," she said, forcing a smile, "It's important for us, for our future."

"Our future," I laughed, a harsh, broken sound.

I slammed the jagged bottle neck down on the table, not near her, but enough to make her jump back.

"My future involves not being your puppet anymore, Izzy."

Then I turned to a stunned Mr. Henderson. "Sorry about this, Henderson. Consider the deal off."

I strode towards Izzy, and she cowered. "You're not feeling well, are you, Izzy? You should go to the hospital."

Before anyone could react, I grabbed her arm, perhaps a little too roughly.

"What are you doing, Ethan! Let go of me!" she shrieked.

The restaurant staff were rushing over, sirens wailed in the distance. Good.

I let them pull me away, let them cuff me. As they led me out, I saw Izzy, pale and genuinely shaken, being helped by the manager.

This time, I was the one creating the scene, the one in control, even in handcuffs.

This time, Lily would live.