Chapter 1

At seventy years old, my body was failing, but my mind was sharp, filled with the bitterness of fifty years. I lay in a sterile hospital bed, the rhythmic beep of the heart monitor the only sound in the room besides the quiet presence of my wife, Jocelyn.

She sat perfectly straight, her posture as impeccable as it had been on our wedding day. Even now, with wrinkles lining her face, she was still the beautiful, untouchable woman I had married. The woman I had loved with everything I had.

The woman who, I was certain, had never loved me back.

My breathing was shallow, each inhale a struggle. I looked at her, at the composed mask she wore, and the regret of a lifetime burned in my chest. All those years, trying to earn a single, genuine smile, a moment of unguarded affection. All for nothing.

"Jocelyn," I rasped, my voice a dry whisper.

She leaned forward, her expression unreadable. "Yes, Ethan?"

The words I had held back for five decades finally broke free, heavy with pain. "If I could do it all over again," I said, my gaze locked on hers, "I would never love you."

A flicker of something-shock, maybe pain-crossed her face, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared. Before she could respond, before I could see if my final words had any impact at all, the world went dark.

Then, light flooded my vision.

I shot up, gasping for air. I wasn't in a hospital. I was in my childhood bedroom, sunlight streaming through the window, posters of 80s rock bands and football heroes on the walls. My body felt... strong. Young.

I scrambled out of bed and stared at my reflection in the mirror. Not a 70-year-old man, but an 18-year-old kid. It was me, Ethan Clark, a high school senior with a spot on the varsity team and not much else going for him.

It was three months before graduation. Three months before my father would sit me down and tell me about the arranged marriage to Jocelyn Anderson.

A second chance.

This time, there would be no arranged marriage. No fifty years of one-sided devotion. This time, I would build my own life. I would use my knowledge of the next fifty years-the rise of personal computers, the internet boom, the housing market crash-to turn my family's regional hardware chain into a national empire.

I would make my father's dreams come true, but on my terms. And I would never, ever let Jocelyn Anderson break my heart again.

I grabbed a notebook and a pen. My handwriting, once shaky with age, was now firm and steady. I started writing, outlining everything I remembered. Tech startups that would become giants. Market trends that would make or lose fortunes.

My friends wouldn't understand. They knew me as the laid-back jock who coasted through classes. They were about to meet a whole new Ethan Clark.