Chapter 4

News travels fast, especially bad news. The local online forums lit up first. "Serious accident on I-95 North, near Exit 47." That was them.

My hands shook as I called Olivia. "Liv, I need you."

While I waited for her, I scrolled through the updates. It was bad. A multi-car pile-up. Their car was involved.

When Olivia arrived, her face was pale. "Sarah, what happened? Your parents called me, worried. They said you called them, then nothing."

"Mark and Chloe," I said, my voice hollow. "They crashed."

We drove to the nearest hospital, the one where they'd be taking the injured. The emergency room was chaos. I gave Mark's name.

"He's in surgery," a tired-looking nurse told me. "Critical condition. The woman with him, Chloe, has minor injuries. A boy, Ethan, is being checked out, seems mostly scared."

Minor injuries. Of course.

I sat in the waiting room, Olivia beside me. My phone buzzed. A friend had tagged me in a post.

It was a photo, already going viral. Taken by someone at the crash scene. Mark, bloodied, half out of the driver's seat, protectively shielding Chloe from the wreckage. The caption read: "True love in the face of tragedy. He saved her."

Bile rose in my throat.

"That's my husband, Mark," I typed, my fingers flying across the screen in the comments section of the viral post. "Who is this woman he's shielding? Our daughter was supposed to be on this trip with us."

I hit send.

The internet exploded.

My comment section blew up. "What?" "His wife?" "Who is SHE then?" "Scandal!"

Good. Let them talk. Let them see.

Then Karen, Mark's mother, arrived with Jessica, his sister. They spotted me. Karen marched over, her face a mask of fury.

"You!" she shrieked, pointing a finger at me. "This is your fault! If you hadn't been so difficult, so selfish, this wouldn't have happened!"

Jessica chimed in, "Always making things about you, Sarah. Mark is fighting for his life because of you!"

The few people in the waiting room turned to stare.

I stood up. The old Sarah would have cried, apologized. The new Sarah was done.

"My fault?" I said, my voice dangerously calm. "My fault that Mark was driving with his mistress and her son instead of his own family? My fault that he prioritized them over his own daughter's well-being, a daughter he accused of faking an illness in the past when she was deathly sick?"

Karen's jaw dropped. Jessica looked stunned.

"Mistress?" Karen whispered, horrified.

"Yes, Mother," I said, using the title with venom. "Chloe. The grieving widow he's been 'supporting.' Ask him about it. If he ever wakes up."