Chapter 2

Rage, pure and white-hot, burned through the fog of my grief. I left my mother with a relative and got in my car. I didn't think, I just drove, the image of Sarah and Mark laughing burned into my brain.

The restaurant was one of those ridiculously fancy places Sarah loved, the kind with valet parking and a name I couldn't pronounce. I saw her BMW parked near the entrance. I slammed my car into a spot and stormed inside, ignoring the host who tried to stop me.

I found them at a secluded corner table, a half-empty bottle of wine between them. They were leaning in close, their heads almost touching. The sight of their intimacy sent a fresh wave of fury through me.

"Sarah!"

Her head snapped up, her eyes wide with shock. Mark immediately stood up, positioning himself between us like a bodyguard. He was taller than me, built solid, and his face was a mask of arrogance.

"What are you doing here, David?" Sarah hissed, her face pale.

"What am I doing here?" I laughed, a broken, hideous sound. "Our daughter is dead, Sarah! Our little girl is lying in a morgue, and you' re here drinking wine with him!"

Mark took a step forward and shoved me hard in the chest. "Hey, back off, man. You' re making a scene."

"Get your hands off me!" I shoved him back. "You have no idea..."

"It was an accident," Mark cut in, his voice slick and dismissive. "The kid ran out into the road. It happens."

I froze. How did he know that? How did he know the specific, cruel detail Sarah had thrown at me? The police report hadn't even been filed yet. The only people who knew that were me, Sarah, and the hospital staff.

"How... how did you know that?" I asked, my voice dangerously quiet.

Sarah' s eyes darted nervously between me and Mark. She grabbed his arm. "Mark, let' s just go."

"No," I said, stepping in front of them. "You' re not going anywhere until you tell me how he knew that."

"You' re crazy, David," Sarah said, her voice shaking. She tried to push past me, but I blocked her way. "You' re grieving, and you' re losing your mind."

Mark shoved me again, harder this time. "She said to get out of the way."

He grabbed Sarah' s hand and pulled her toward the exit, their shoulders squared as they pushed through the gawking patrons. They didn' t look back. They just got into her car and drove away, leaving me standing alone in the middle of the crowded restaurant, the silence of their departure more deafening than all the shouting.

I stumbled out into the cool night air, my mind racing, trying to piece it all together. The hand-holding at the hospital. The celebratory dinner. Mark' s slip of the tongue. The way she protected him. It wasn' t just a casual affair. It was something deeper, something darker.

The next day was a blur of fluorescent lights and paperwork. The funeral home. The cemetery plot. Every decision was a fresh stab of pain. I had to do it all alone. I tried calling Sarah one last time, a final, desperate hope that some shred of the woman I once loved, the mother of my child, still existed.

"David, I am swamped," she said, the sound of keyboard clicks in the background. "I told you, I' m busy. I' ll wire you money for the... arrangements. Just handle it."

"Handle it?" I whispered. "She' s our daughter, not a business transaction."

"I have to go," she said, her voice strained.

Just before she hung up, I heard it. A small voice in the background, a little girl' s voice.

"Daddy, can I have some juice?"

It was followed by Sarah' s voice, suddenly transformed, sickeningly sweet and gentle. "Of course, sweetie. Auntie Sarah will get it for you."

Daddy. Auntie Sarah.

The phone went dead in my hand. He had a child. He was married. And Sarah, who had called our own daughter a burden, was playing happy family with him and his kid.

The last flicker of hope inside me died, replaced by a cold, hard certainty. This was not just a betrayal. This was a conspiracy. And I was going to uncover the truth.