Chapter 1

The phone call smashed my world into pieces.

One minute I was wiping sawdust from my face, thinking about dinner, the next a cop was on the line.

"Mr. Peterson? There's been an accident involving your son, Ethan."

My heart stopped. Ethan. My boy. Out on his DashEats route, always working, always helping.

"Is he okay?" I choked out, my throat tight.

The silence on the other end was too long.

"Sir, you need to come to County General."

I dropped the phone, the world tilting. My workshop, usually a place of comfort, felt like a cage.

I had to tell Kate. I fumbled for my phone again, hands shaking so hard I could barely dial.

Kate, my wife of eighteen years. Polished, smart, a paralegal. She always talked about old family debts, how we were barely scraping by. My carpentry, her job, it was never enough, she said. I worked my fingers to the bone for her, for Ethan. Believed every word.

Her phone went straight to voicemail. "Hi, you've reached Kate. I'm at a critical legal conference in Denver. Leave a message."

A critical conference. Right.

I tried again. Voicemail.

And again. Voicemail.

Ethan. My son. County General.

I ran out of the workshop, leaving the door swinging.

The hospital was cold, sterile. A tired-looking doctor told me.

"Your son... Ethan... he didn't make it. Hit-and-run. We did everything we could."

Everything went quiet. The buzzing in my ears was the only sound. Ethan, my pride, my valedictorian son, gone.

I needed Kate. I called again, my thumb hitting redial like a broken machine.

This time, she picked up. Noise in the background, music, laughter.

"Mike? What is it? I'm in the middle of something really important here." Her voice was sharp, annoyed.

"Kate," I whispered, my voice cracking. "It's Ethan. He's... he's gone."

A pause. "Gone where? Mike, I can't hear you well, this reception is terrible. Look, can this wait? This event is crucial."

Crucial.

"He's dead, Kate. Ethan is dead."

"Oh. Oh, God." Her voice changed, but it felt distant, like she was reading lines. "Look, Mike, I... I can't just leave. This is... it's a huge deal for Josh's future. I'll call you back."

Josh. Liam Carter's son. Liam, her childhood friend, the one she always felt she owed something huge to, something about him "saving" her in high school. She was always helping Liam, always bailing him and Josh out.

She hung up.

Numb, I stumbled out of the hospital. The world was a blur.

Later, I don't know how much later, I was scrolling through my phone, a meaningless habit. An Instagram story popped up. A caterer I vaguely knew Kate used for "work functions."

There she was. Kate. Beaming. Standing next to Liam Carter and his son, Josh. They were at a fancy vineyard, crystal glasses in hand. Josh, smug and entitled, stood beside a new imported sports car with a giant bow on it.

The caption: "Celebrating Josh's bright future! What a send-off gala! Congratulations!"

My son was dead. My wife was celebrating.