Chapter 2

Alya Cobb POV:

A week later, I walked into the shimmering glass tower of Aether, Jason's tech empire. My heart was a dead weight in my chest, a hollow space where love used to be.

The receptionist, a young woman who had always been kind to me, looked up with pity in her eyes. "Mrs. Rodriguez, I'm so sorry, but Mr. Rodriguez is in a very important meeting. He can't be disturbed."

Of course he was. He was always busy. Too busy for a dying mother-in-law, too busy for his grieving wife. But never, I suspected, too busy for Genesis.

I sank onto a plush leather sofa in the lobby, my hands clutching a manila envelope. I felt nothing. The grief was a constant, dull ache, but the sharp edges of pain had been worn smooth. I was just... empty.

The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, and Genesis glided out. She was dressed in cream-colored silk, looking radiant and serene. She spotted me and her smile widened.

"Alya, what a surprise," she said, her voice dripping with false concern. "Are you feeling better? The universe tests us, but only to make us stronger."

"I am as good as I'll ever be," I replied, my voice flat.

I held out the envelope to her. "I need you to give this to Jason. They won't let me in."

Her perfectly sculpted eyebrows rose slightly. "Of course. What is it?"

"Divorce papers," I said, the words tasting like ash in my mouth. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. "Turns out even twin flames need to deal with earthly legalities."

"Why don't you give them to him yourself?" she asked, a hint of challenge in her tone. She was enjoying this, enjoying her power over me.

I met her gaze, my own eyes cold and dead. "Because he won't see me, Genesis. But he'll always see you."

A flicker of triumph crossed her face before she masked it with a sigh of compassion. "You poor thing. Of course, I'll help."

She took the envelope and walked toward the boardroom, her silk dress whispering against the floor. She didn't knock. She just pushed open the heavy glass doors and slipped inside.

Through the frosted glass, I could see the silhouette of Jason at the head of a long table, surrounded by his executives. He looked up as Genesis entered, and the tension in his shoulders immediately softened. He smiled. A real, warm smile.

Genesis leaned in and whispered something in his ear, handing him the envelope.

He took it without looking away from her. He didn't open it. He didn't even glance at the words stamped on the front. He simply picked up a pen from the table, flipped to the last page, and signed his name.

Then he pulled her onto his lap, right there in front of his entire board, and kissed her.

I watched, my body completely still, my heart a stone. The man who had once sworn he couldn't live without me had just signed away our marriage without a second thought, his attention solely on another woman.

Genesis emerged a moment later, the signed papers in her hand. She offered me another pitying smile. "It's done. Remember, Alya, letting go is the first step to healing. The universe has a new path for you."

I took the envelope from her hand, our fingers brushing. Her skin was warm. Mine was ice cold.

I turned and walked out of the building without another word.

The lawyer confirmed the signature was valid. There was a thirty-day cooling-off period. Thirty more days in that house, a ghost haunting the ruins of my own life.

Every day, I watched Jason dote on Genesis. He brought her breakfast in bed. He bought her extravagant gifts. He hung on her every word about energy and enlightenment. I was invisible.

I packed my mother's belongings, which had finally been delivered from her apartment. They arrived in a single, small box. I held her favorite porcelain teacup in my hands, its delicate pattern a painful reminder of her gentle spirit. Grief, sharp and raw, washed over me, and I sank to the floor, clutching the box and sobbing.

"Why are you crying?"

I looked up. Genesis stood in the doorway, a frown marring her perfect face.

The housekeeper, Maria, who had been with us for years, answered softly. "Her mother, Miss Caldwell. She's grieving."

Genesis's expression softened into that familiar mask of spiritual wisdom. "Oh, Alya. You shouldn't be sad. Your mother has been released from her physical form. Her soul is free. You should be celebrating her liberation."

"She was murdered," I choked out, my voice thick with tears and rage. "You and your karmic debt murdered her."

I hugged the box tighter, turning away from her. I couldn't stand the sight of her, the sound of her voice. I just wanted to be left alone with the last pieces of my mother.

Genesis watched my retreating back, and for the first time, I saw a flicker of something other than serene enlightenment in her eyes. It was cold, hard, and malicious.

A new thought seemed to form in her mind. A way to "help" me. A way to purge my "dark energy."

Later that evening, I heard her speaking to one of the groundskeepers in a low, urgent voice.

"I need you to find some snakes. Several of them. Non-venomous, of course. We're going to help Mrs. Rodriguez confront her deepest fears."

The groundskeeper hesitated. "But, Miss Caldwell... Mrs. Rodriguez is terrified of snakes. Terrified."

"Jason wants her to heal," Genesis said, her voice hardening, laced with the authority she knew she now wielded. "And I know what's best for her. Do it."

The groundskeeper bowed his head, defeated.

That night, I fell into an exhausted sleep, clutching my mother's teacup.

Sometime in the dead of night, I was vaguely aware of my bedroom door creaking open. I was too deep in sleep to fully wake.

Then, I felt it. Something cold, smooth, and heavy slithering across my bare leg.