Chapter 4

Jessica's feigned concern was sickening.

"You look terrible, Mike," she said, dabbing at a cut on my lip with a handkerchief she probably considered a prop. "But don't worry, once you help Chad, everything will be fine. We can be happy."

Happy? With her? The thought was repulsive.

She was already talking about "us," about a future she thought she could build on my sacrifice, again.

"Chad needs the best, Mike. That ligament, it has to be a perfect match. You're young, strong. It's a small price to pay for his future. For our future."

Our future. She meant her future with Chad, funded by my body this time, not just my labor.

I remembered the constant ache in my leg in my first life, the limp I carried after "saving" her.

The way people sometimes looked at me with pity or disdain.

She wanted to inflict that on me again, or worse, for her lover.

"It's just a small surgery for you, Mike," she pressed, her voice like honeyed venom. "And then Chad will be back on his feet. Think of it, you'll be a hero again."

I feigned thoughtful consideration.

"I need to see my mother first," I repeated. "Make sure she's alright, that no one is bothering her because of me."

Jessica smiled, a triumphant, possessive look. "Of course. She's in the kitchen. She's worried about you."

She believed she had won. She thought I was still the same Mike, easily manipulated by her charms or threats.

We found Mom in the kitchen, her face etched with worry.

"Michael! What happened to your face?"

She rushed to me, her hands fluttering.

"I'm okay, Mom," I said, trying to reassure her.

Jessica stood by, watching, a smug little smile on her lips.

"Mike has agreed to help Chad, Maria," Jessica announced. "He's going to be very brave."

Mom looked confused, then worried.

I gave Mom a quick, almost imperceptible shake of my head.

Later, when Jessica was briefly called away by her mother, I spoke quickly to Mom.

"Mom, we need to leave. Tonight."

"Leave? Michael, what are you talking about? My job..."

"Forget the job, Mom. These people are dangerous. I can't stay here. We can't stay here."

I used my first-life knowledge. I knew about a small, forgotten savings account my father had left, something I only discovered after his death in my previous life. It wasn't much, but it was enough to get us away.

"I have some money, Dad's old account. We can go to another state, start over."

Mom saw the desperation, the resolve in my eyes. She trusted me.

"Okay, Michael. Okay."

That night, while the Millers and Petersons were probably celebrating their presumed victory over me, Mom and I slipped away.

A small bag each, the few dollars from Dad's account, and the burning memory of betrayal.

We took a bus heading west, leaving no trace.

As the bus pulled away, I took out my cheap phone and sent Jessica a single text.

"I remember everything, Jessica. Every lie, every betrayal. Enjoy your life with Chad."

Then I snapped the SIM card and threw it out the window.

I was Mike Evans no more.

From that day on, I was Ethan Vance.

Miles away, I imagined Jessica reading that text.

Her shock. Her fury. The sudden, dawning horror that her victim was not a victim anymore.

That her reborn advantage was matched.

The game had changed.