Chapter 3

The first few days were a strange mix of calm and chaos. My phone was a constant source of buzzing. Mark tried calling from jail, his number showing up as a blocked ID. I ignored it every time. Then he must have gotten someone to pass a message, because his parents started calling.

"Sarah, what is going on?" Mrs. Johnson' s voice was strained with worry. "Mark called. He said he made a bad investment and needs your help to explain it to the company. He said you know all about it."

His charm was a potent weapon. He could spin any lie and make it sound plausible, especially to his loving parents.

"Mrs. Johnson," I said, my voice gentle but firm. "Mark didn't make a bad investment. He embezzled five million dollars."

There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end. "What? No, that can't be right. He wouldn't..."

"He did," I interrupted softly. "He used the money to buy a diamond necklace for his mistress, Brittany Hayes."

Silence. I could almost hear her trying to process the information, her maternal love fighting against the ugly truth.

"A... a mistress? Sarah, are you sure? Maybe there's been a misunderstanding."

I knew they wouldn't believe it. Not yet. They needed to see it for themselves. But I couldn't have them getting in my way, trying to mediate, trying to guilt me into fixing this for him again.

"I need some time," I told her. "I've booked you and Mr. Johnson a vacation. A month-long cruise to Alaska. It leaves tomorrow. My treat. Please, just go. Get away from this mess. When you get back, we can talk."

It was an extravagant move, but a necessary one. It would get them out of the city and away from Mark's influence. It was also a way of repaying their past kindness to me, a final gesture before I cut ties completely. After some hesitation, they agreed, too shocked and confused to argue effectively.

With them out of the picture, I was free. I broke my lease, packed my belongings, and put them in storage. I stayed with a friend, Jessica, who knew nothing about the details, only that my engagement was on the rocks.

A week later, just as I predicted, Mark was out on bail. Jessica dragged me to a friend's birthday party, insisting I needed to get out of the house. I didn't want to go, but I also didn't want to sit alone in her apartment, stewing in my thoughts.

The party was at a trendy downtown loft. The music was loud, the conversation louder. I was nursing a glass of sparkling water when I felt a pair of eyes on me. I looked up and saw him across the room.

Mark.

He wasn't with anyone, just standing by the bar, staring at me. His face was thinner, his eyes shadowed, but the look in them was what chilled me. It wasn't just anger or confusion. It was pure, unadulterated hatred. A hatred so deep and personal, it felt... familiar. It was the same look he gave me in my past life, in the years after he felt I had "trapped" him.

A cold suspicion bloomed in my chest. He had been out on bail, having agreed to a repayment plan with his company. His parents must have mortgaged their house. He was financially ruined, publicly shamed, and he was looking at me as if I was the sole author of his misery. But the intensity of it felt like more than just a reaction to this past week. It felt like he was remembering more.

Could it be? Could he remember, too?

Before I could process the terrifying thought, a commotion erupted at the door.

Brittany Hayes stormed in, her eyes scanning the room like a predator. They landed on me, and she marched over, her heels clicking angrily on the hardwood floor.

"There you are," she snarled, her voice cutting through the party chatter. The music seemed to dim as heads turned in our direction.

"You heartless bitch."

She stopped right in front of me, close enough that I could smell her expensive, cloying perfume.

"How could you just abandon him? Mark was arrested! He was in jail, and you, his fiancée, did nothing! You just disappeared!"

I remained silent, my eyes flickering from her furious face to Mark, who was now watching us from across the room. His expression wasn't one of embarrassment or annoyance at her public spectacle. It was one of tenderness. A soft, pained look of adoration.

It was the look I had dreamed of receiving from him for thirty years. The look he had only ever given her.

Seeing it now, directed at the woman screaming in my face, didn't cause me pain. It was just... confirmation. It solidified my resolve. Every doubt I might have had about my actions vanished.

Brittany wasn't done. She took it a step further, grabbing my arm, her nails digging into my skin.

"He was in there, scared and alone, and you didn't even answer his calls! What kind of monster are you?"

The whispers started around us. People who knew us as a couple were looking at me with disapproval. I saw it then. This was a performance. A calculated move to paint me as the villain, to use public opinion to shame me, maybe even to force me to step in and help with the massive debt he now owed.

They wanted me to pay for their love story.

I looked at Brittany's perfectly manicured hand on my arm. Then I met her eyes, my own gaze as cold as ice.

"He wasn't scared and alone," I said, my voice low but carrying in the sudden lull. "He was in jail because he stole five million dollars from his company."

I paused, letting the number sink in. "And he did it to buy you a necklace, Brittany. So don't you dare stand here and lecture me about loyalty."

The room went completely silent.