Chapter 1

The last thing Ethan Walker remembered was the bitter taste of pills and a fading image of his son, Ben.

Then, a thought, sharp as a shard of ice: "Sarah, if there's another life, I won't love you again."

He gasped, sitting bolt upright in bed.

Cold sweat slicked his skin.

The room was familiar. Their bedroom in Port Grace, Alaska. Sunlight, pale and early, cut through the blinds.

His leg ached, the throb a grim reminder of the rescue mission that ended his Coast Guard career.

But it wasn't the screaming, unbearable agony of those final months. Not yet.

He checked the calendar on the nightstand.

Months. He was back months before Liam Hayes, Sarah' s half-brother, was supposed to slither into their lives.

Months before the final, crushing betrayals.

He was alive. Again.

The shock was a physical blow, but under it, a cold, hard resolve began to form.

This time, things would be different.

His hand trembled as he reached for his phone.

He scrolled through contacts, his heart hammering.

The name he found was Arthur Harrison, a lawyer Sarah had used for some minor zoning issue for her city council campaign. The irony wasn't lost on him.

The call connected.

"Mr. Harrison? Ethan Walker. My wife is Sarah Miller. You helped her with a zoning matter last year."

"Yes, Mr. Walker. I recall. What can I do for you?" Harrison' s voice was brisk, professional.

"I need a divorce lawyer," Ethan said, his own voice flat, devoid of emotion.

A slight pause on the other end. "I see. Are you sure, Mr. Walker?"

"Positive."

"Alright. Come by my office this afternoon. Two o'clock."

"I'll be there."

He hung up. One step taken.

His next call was to a number he' d memorized from a local health flyer in his previous, doomed existence.

"Dr. Aris Thorne's office."

"I need to make an appointment with Dr. Thorne," Ethan said. "It's urgent."

"Is this an emergency, sir?"

"No. But it's important. As soon as possible."

"She has an opening tomorrow morning at ten."

"I'll take it."

He got out of bed, his injured leg stiff. He moved with a caution born from fresh memory of debilitating pain.

He needed to manage this injury proactively. No more letting it fester while Sarah and Liam dismantled his life.

He dressed quickly, his mind racing.

The sound of the bedroom door opening made him turn.

Sarah stood there, her blonde hair perfectly styled even this early. Her blue eyes, usually warm, were wide with confusion.

"Ethan? You're up early. And dressed."

She walked towards him, a slight frown creasing her forehead.

"Are you okay? Your leg..."

"It's fine," he cut her off.

She stopped, sensing the wall he' d already erected.

"A divorce, Ethan?" Her voice was a shocked whisper. She must have overheard his call to Harrison. "What are you talking about?"

She reached for him, her hand outstretched. "Your injury... I know it's been hard. But we can get through this. We always do."

Her touch, which once would have been a comfort, now felt like a brand.

He stepped back.

"There's nothing to get through, Sarah," he said, his voice cold. "Not anymore."

We? The word echoed in his mind. You got through it, Sarah. I was the wreckage left behind.

He remembered the workshop, his one solace, his place to tinker with boat engines and escape the ghosts of rescues gone wrong.

"Ethan, we need the space," she' d said, her voice reasonable, persuasive. "For my campaign headquarters. It' s for the community."

It had become Liam' s den, a place for his shady calls and manipulative schemes.

He remembered Ben, his eight-year-old son.

"Ben needs more structure, Ethan," Sarah had argued, her words a perfect echo of Liam' s earlier, insidious suggestions. "This boarding school in Anchorage... it's for his future. It' ll give me space to focus on the campaign, and you... you need less stress."

Less stress. Sending his son hundreds of miles away.

The image of Ben' s small, confused face as the car pulled away, Sarah not even looking back at Ethan, busy on her phone with a campaign manager. That was the day something inside him had shattered.

And the pain. His physical pain, dismissed. His mental anguish, ignored.

"You're exaggerating, Ethan," Sarah had said, her patience wearing thin, influenced by Liam' s constant whispers that Ethan was seeking attention, trying to sabotage her. "You need to be stronger. For me. For Ben."

The overdose hadn't been an accident, not really. It had been the only door he could find out of a locked room of agony.

"I've made my decision," Ethan told Sarah, his gaze unwavering. "The papers will be served today."

He saw the flash of anger in her eyes, quickly masked by hurt. The wounded pride of the town' s golden girl.

Good. Let her feel something.

"But why?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly. "What have I done?"

He almost laughed. What had she done? She' d stood by and let it all happen. She' d chosen her ambition, and her manipulative half-brother, over him and their son.

He remembered their wedding day, out on the spit, the mountains stark against the Alaskan sky.

Sarah, radiant in a simple white dress, her eyes shining as she' d said the words, "In sickness and in health, Ethan. Always. I' ll always be by your side."

He had believed her. God, he had believed every word.

The memory was like ash in his mouth.

"It doesn't matter why anymore," he said. "It's just over."

He walked past her, out of the bedroom. He needed air. He needed to get out of that house, their shared history pressing down on him.

Later that morning, he sat in Arthur Harrison' s stuffy office.

Harrison was a balding man with sharp eyes. He listened patiently as Ethan stated his case, omitting the rebirth, sticking to the facts of a broken marriage.

"Irreconcilable differences," Harrison said, tapping a pen on his desk. "Standard procedure in Alaska if it' s uncontested. She has grounds to contest, given your recent injury. Could claim temporary distress on your part."

"She can claim whatever she wants," Ethan said. "I'm not changing my mind."

"It can get messy. And expensive."

"I understand."

Harrison nodded. "Alright, Mr. Walker. I'll draw up the papers. We can have her served by this evening."

A small, grim satisfaction settled in Ethan. A first step on a long road.

The next morning, Ethan found himself in Dr. Aris Thorne' s clinic.

The waiting room was small, functional. The clinic served the sparse population of Port Grace.

Dr. Thorne was a woman in her late forties, her dark hair pulled back severely. Her eyes were tired but missed nothing. She had a reputation for being pragmatic, no-nonsense. Exactly what Ethan needed.

She looked at the chart in her hand, then at Ethan.

"Mr. Walker. Former U.S. Coast Guard rescue swimmer. Honorable discharge, medical, after the Albatross incident. States here you' re seeking consultation for chronic pain management and... preventative care for PTSD."

Her gaze was direct. "So, Mr. Walker. What' s the problem you' re actually here to solve today?"

Ethan appreciated her cutting through the bullshit.

"My leg," he said, gesturing to his right thigh. "The injury from the Albatross. It' s... manageable now. But in my previous experience, it got much worse. The pain, the nerve damage." He paused. "And the PTSD. It crippled me last time."

Dr. Thorne raised an eyebrow at "last time" but didn' t comment.

"I need a proactive plan," Ethan continued. "Pain management that doesn't turn me into an addict. Strategies for the PTSD before it takes root again. I won't go down that road."

"You seem very certain about the progression of your condition," Dr. Thorne observed, her tone neutral.

"I am," Ethan said simply.

He remembered a specific incident from his first life, a few months after Liam had arrived.

Liam, always so concerned, so helpful. He'd "helped" Sarah set up her campaign office – in Ethan's old workshop.

Ethan had found an expensive, brand-new surveying drone hidden under a pile of campaign posters. Liam had previously claimed to be broke, needing Sarah' s financial help for basic necessities.

When Ethan questioned it, Liam had looked wounded. "It was a gift, for a potential job lead. Mapping remote coastlines. I didn' t want to bother you with it."

Sarah had rushed to Liam' s defense. "Ethan, he' s trying his best. It' s a good opportunity for him. Don' t be so suspicious. He needs our support."

Her voice, so earnest. So dismissive of Ethan' s unease.

Back then, Ethan had felt a flicker of doubt, a sense of being gaslit. He' d let it go. He' d wanted to believe in Sarah, in the family they were supposed to be.

Now, recalling that moment, the memory hit him with the force of a physical blow.

It wasn' t just Liam' s deception. It was Sarah' s complicity.

She had chosen to believe the lies, or perhaps she hadn't cared if they were lies, as long as Liam was placated, as long as her path to political success remained smooth.

That realization, even in this reborn life, settled like a cold stone in his gut. She hadn't just been fooled; she had been a willing participant in her own deception, and his destruction.

"I know what I need to avoid," Ethan told Dr. Thorne, his voice hard. "And I'll do whatever it takes."