Chapter 3

The moment that solidified my resolve came an hour later.

Leo, who had been quiet all evening, finally saw a familiar face. He broke away from my side and ran towards Michael, his little arms outstretched.

"Daddy!" he cried out, his voice clear and happy. "Daddy, up!"

Ashley flinched, pulling back as if Leo were diseased. "Mark, don't let him," she whispered, her voice sharp.

Michael' s face hardened. He didn't bend down. He didn't smile. He took a step back and shoved Leo, not hard, but enough to make my three-year-old son stumble and fall to the floor.

"Chloe," Michael snapped, his voice cold and hard. "Control your kid. This is a wake, not a playground. Don't let him tarnish my brother's memory."

The room went silent. A few people shifted uncomfortably.

I felt a rage so pure and hot it almost choked me. I walked over, scooped Leo into my arms, and held him tight. His little body was trembling, his face buried in my shoulder. He was crying softly.

I looked at Michael over Leo's head. I didn't say a word. I just smiled a small, broken smile.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered. "He's just a child. He's confused."

I took Leo and left the room.

Back in the quiet of my bedroom, I held my son and rocked him until his sobs subsided.

"It's okay, baby," I whispered into his hair. "Mommy's here. That wasn't Daddy. Daddy's gone. But I'm going to find you a new daddy. A much, much better one."

Leo looked up at me, his big, brown eyes still wet with tears. He didn't understand, but he nodded, his small hand clutching my shirt.

The next morning, I made a phone call.

"David?" I said, my voice quiet.

There was a pause on the other end. "Chloe? Is that you? I heard about Michael. I'm so, so sorry."

David. My friend from college. The tech genius who sold his first company before he was thirty. The man who had always looked at me like I was the only person in the room.

"I need your help," I said, cutting to the chase.

"Anything," he said immediately, no hesitation. "What do you need? Where are you?"

"I can't talk now," I said. "But I'm leaving. Me and Leo. I'm taking him and we're starting over. I'll call you in two days. Can you... can you help me find a place to stay?"

"Consider it done," he said, his voice firm and reassuring. "A penthouse in Manhattan. Top security. No one will find you. Just call me, Chloe. I'll be waiting."

I hung up, a wave of relief washing over me.

The next step was securing our future.

I put on my black mourning dress, the picture of a grieving widow. I went to the NYPD pension office. As the widow of a detective killed in the line of duty, the death benefit was substantial. Tax-free. I had them wire it directly to a new bank account I had opened online under my name only.

Then I went to the life insurance company. Michael had taken out a massive policy, thinking it would go to him when he faked his death. He had made me the sole beneficiary, never imagining I'd be the one to collect it.

I walked out with a certified check that would ensure Leo and I never had to worry about money again. I deposited it into the same private account.

That night, I went through our old photo albums. I found our wedding picture. Michael was smiling, but his eyes were distant. I had been so blind. I took the picture out of the frame, tore it into tiny pieces, and flushed it down the toilet.

The house was quiet. Michael and Ashley were out, probably making wedding arrangements. My mother-in-law was asleep.

I packed. One suitcase for me, one for Leo. The essentials. Everything else could be replaced.

My revenge wasn't just about taking the money. It was about erasing myself from their lives so completely that it would be like I never existed.

And leaving them with the bill for the life they stole.