Chapter 2

I stared at the cake. The custom-designed molecule model. It wasn't just any molecule. It was mine.

A design I' d sketched out years ago, a potential therapeutic agent. I' d shown it to Mark, excited, full of hope. He' d dismissed it. "Too theoretical, Sarah. Not commercially viable."

Now, it was the centerpiece of Cassandra' s celebration, presented as a joint effort by my husband and my son. For her.

A cold fury, sharp and clear, cut through the fog of my illness.

I looked at Mark. "That molecule," I said, my voice quiet but steady. "That was my design."

He avoided my eyes. "Don't be ridiculous, Sarah. It's just a pretty shape for the cake."

"You dismissed it years ago," I pressed. "You said it was worthless."

Mrs. Winthrop overheard. Her voice dripped venom. "Always so jealous, Sarah. Can't you just be happy for Cassandra?"

Mr. Winthrop chimed in, his tone like ice. "You're ungrateful. After everything we've done."

Done for Cassandra, he meant. Never for me. They knew I was their biological daughter.

A DNA test, done years ago when they first found me, had confirmed the hospital mix-up. It hadn't changed a thing. Cassandra was the daughter they raised, the daughter they loved. I was an obligation, an awkward truth.

Ben, my sweet Ben, looked from their faces to mine. He tugged on Cassandra' s hand. "Mommy, you're making Cassandra sad."

His words were a physical blow. Mommy. He was calling Cassandra that, here, in front of me.

That was it. Something inside me snapped.

I turned and walked out of the restaurant. No scene. No shouting. Just a quiet departure. My resolve hardened with every step.

I remembered Cassandra from college. She' d dated Mark briefly. Dropped him flat when his first big academic project failed to get funding. Said he had no future.

It was my inheritance from my adoptive parents, every last cent, that had been the seed money for GenLife. I' d asked Mark to keep it quiet. I wanted him to feel the success was his, untainted by my contribution.

Over the years, especially after Cassandra re-entered his life, drawn to the scent of his new success with GenLife, he seemed to conveniently forget where that crucial first investment came from.

Or maybe he just chose to downplay it, to himself and to everyone else.

When Mark and Ben finally came home hours later, the house felt cold, alien. Ben wouldn' t look at me, wouldn' t speak. He went straight to his room, Cassandra' s name a happy whisper on his lips.

Mark found me in the living room, staring out the window.

"What was that all about?" he demanded, his voice laced with the familiar irritation he reserved for me these days.

I turned to face him, my heart strangely calm. "I want a divorce, Mark."

He actually laughed. A short, dismissive sound. "Don't be dramatic, Sarah. You're just upset. You'll get over it." He waved a hand. "Where would you even go? What would you do?"

He believed I had nowhere to go, no independent means. He had forgotten who I was before him, and who I could be without him.