Chapter 2: Second Chances, New Rules

“If you really want to see Derek one last time, why not kneel and beg him? Maybe he’ll soften.”

My mother-in-law lowered her eyes and suggested this with fake kindness.

She twisted the wedding ring on her finger, her tone syrupy sweet. I recognized the look—subtle power play, Southern charm turned weapon. Even in grief, she couldn’t resist the chance to remind me of my place.

In my previous life, I listened to her. I knelt for five hours—my knees ached to the bone even after death.

I remembered the ache, the humiliation. The janitor had left a bucket of Pine-Sol nearby, the smell forever burned into my memory. In America, no one wants to watch a woman break—they just want to know she did.

But at the funeral, my in-laws weren’t surprised by Natalie’s arrival. They twisted the facts to defend her, clearly knowing everything all along.

Their practiced outrage had an edge of rehearsal, like they’d written this script together weeks ago. Even the cousins in the pews traded glances, silently complicit.

My mother-in-law always bullied me because my parents died young and I had no one to rely on. Now, her seemingly considerate words were just meant to humiliate me.

She’d always reminded me I was alone in this world. In America, orphaned kids grew up tough or broke. I chose tough, and today, that toughness would save me.

I forced out a few tears and shook my head regretfully. “Dad is right. This is Derek’s last wish. As his wife, I should respect it.”

My voice was shaky but firm, just loud enough for the nurses and relatives nearby to hear. I let the tears streak my cheeks for effect, but inside I was ice-cold.

With that, I turned and walked away.

I straightened my coat, head held high, and let the sound of my heels echo down the hallway. They could keep their judgments—I had plans of my own.

“Stop!” my father-in-law barked. “Where are you going? My son only has a few hours left. If you leave, who will handle the aftermath? Us old folks?”

He slammed his palm against the wall for emphasis, voice carrying down the hall. The receptionist glanced up from her computer, eyebrows raised.

I choked up. “I really can’t bear to watch him go. Don’t worry, if anything happens, I’ll come back right away.”

My voice cracked in just the right places, the performance so convincing even I almost believed it.

My mother-in-law quietly tried to persuade my father-in-law: “Let her go, inside…”

Her voice dropped to a whisper, just above a hiss. I caught the sharp look she shot at him, a warning not to push any further.

Her voice cut off abruptly. I didn’t need to look to know they were exchanging glances.

Their secrets thickened the air between them. Years of silent communication—something I’d never been allowed to share.

Of course. Natalie was still in the room. Only if I left could they say their goodbyes without worry.

It all clicked—the guarded glances, the urgency. It was a family conspiracy, plain and simple.

Sure enough, my father-in-law said, “Don’t go too far.”

His voice had softened, just a notch, as if granting me a rare favor. I didn’t bother to answer, just nodded once and walked away.

I nodded and left.

I passed the nurse’s station, nodded at the security guard, and headed for the sliding doors. The hospital’s cold blast of air hit me, and I drew my coat tighter, blending into the steady stream of visitors and patients.

As soon as I left the hospital, I went straight to the private fertility clinic where Derek’s frozen sperm was stored.

I hit the gas, weaving through midday traffic. The city’s skyline glimmered in the rearview, but my mind was fixed on the future—my future. A sign for the fertility clinic flashed by, and I pulled in, tires crunching over gravel.

When I walked in, a young man sat at the front desk, his name tag reading “Aiden.”

He looked up from his phone, bored but polite. The waiting room smelled like lemon-scented disinfectant and the TV on the wall played a muted daytime talk show.

I approached him. “My husband has sperm stored here. Can you check the records for me?”

He didn’t even glance up, just kept tapping at his screen. It was the customer service indifference you only see in American healthcare.

Aiden didn’t even look up. “Sorry, we don’t provide that service.”

His voice was flat, practiced—he’d probably said it a hundred times that week. I could see a stack of paperwork peeking out from under his elbow.

Just as I expected.

This was America—rules, regulations, and privacy forms thicker than a phone book. I’d have to play my hand differently.

I pressed on. “I’d like to speak to your manager.”

I gave him my best CEO stare—cool, commanding, no nonsense. He looked up, finally realizing I wasn’t just another tired spouse.

Aiden finally glanced at me, sounding impatient. “That’s me. Like I said, I can’t check.”

He flashed a badge that confirmed it, then went back to scrolling through a spreadsheet. The hint of annoyance in his voice was almost comical.

I raised an eyebrow. “Really? What if I buy this clinic?”

The words hung in the air, bold as neon. In America, everything had a price.

Aiden’s eyes widened. “What? Are you serious?”

He sat up straighter, suddenly interested. For the first time, he saw me not as a grieving widow but as a businesswoman.

I smiled. “Name your price.”

I crossed my legs, tapping my shoe against the linoleum. He licked his lips, eyes darting to the security camera as if to check who was watching.

Aiden’s eyes lit up. “Five million.”

He said it like a dare. I could tell he didn’t really expect me to say yes.

I pulled out a chair and sat down calmly. “I’ve done my research. Your clinic has been open for three years, using the latest technology and boasting over a ninety percent sperm activation rate.”

I rattled off the facts, watching his confidence falter. His jaw tensed as I listed each line item like a prosecutor.

“But your fees are too high. You’ve been operating at a loss from the start. And since you’re storing members’ samples, you can’t just shut down even if you wanted to.”

I tapped my manicured nails on the counter, letting the silence stretch. The numbers didn’t lie, and he knew it.

Aiden rolled his eyes. “One million. That’s the lowest I can go.”

He shrugged, but I caught the flicker of desperation in his eyes. He needed out, and I was the only lifeline he had.

“Deal.”

I reached into my purse for my phone, pulling up my banking app. Money talks, especially in a place where every wall has a "We reserve the right to refuse service" sign. In America, the fastest way to win is to outbid everyone else.

After I paid, Aiden pulled up the member database.

He spun his laptop around, fingers flying over the keys. The whir of the hard drive was the only sound in the room.

When we found Derek’s file, I scrolled down and stopped at an English name.

I squinted at the screen, memorizing every line. Sometimes the details that matter most hide in plain sight.

Aiden laughed and explained, “He’s from Nigeria. He broke the law in the States, and before he got caught, he came here to leave his sample—hoping he could leave a descendant behind.”

He grinned, as if sharing a private joke. The world was small, and people’s ambitions even smaller.

I curled my lips. “I’ll take his, then.”

My tone was sharp, decisive. In America, you make your own destiny, even if it means borrowing someone else’s story for a while.

Just as I stepped out of the lab, my phone rang.

The ringtone was loud, jarring in the quiet hallway. I took a deep breath before answering—my mother-in-law’s calls were never good news.

When I answered, my mother-in-law’s wailing came through the line:

Her sobs echoed so loudly I had to hold the phone away from my ear. Even over the line, her theatrics were impressive.

“Rachel, De… Derek is gone. The doctor says you have to sign to confirm the body. Come back quickly.”

She managed to sound both accusatory and helpless in the same breath. I could practically hear her wringing her hands on the other end.

I replied immediately, “I’m on my way, Mom. Please take care of yourself and Dad.”

My tone was soft, measured—polite but distant. Years of practice had taught me how to keep the peace, at least on the surface.

After hanging up, I calmed myself and drove to the company.

My hands shook as I adjusted the rearview mirror, the city’s skyline flashing by in a blur. I rolled down the window, letting the cool air clear my head before turning toward the downtown office.

I printed out the stock transfer documents, then rushed to the hospital.

The printer hummed quietly as I double-checked every signature line. I tucked the documents into a plain manila envelope, the weight of my future suddenly tangible. I barely remembered the drive to the hospital—just a blur of red lights and honking horns.

The company had been founded by Derek and me after college. We each held 40% of the shares, with the remaining 20% divided among five other investors.

Our story was the American dream: young love, big ambitions, and a start-up that made it big. But behind every successful business was a ledger of secrets.

In my previous life, Natalie arrived at the funeral with a lawyer. Only then did I learn that the day before our marriage, Derek had secretly bought out the remaining shares, increasing his stake to 60%.

He’d always played the long game, keeping me just out of reach of true control. I’d signed the marriage license without knowing the whole truth—an all-too-common story in boardrooms across the country.

Once Natalie gave birth and inherited Derek’s shares, she would control the entire company.

Legacy, power, and blood—sometimes the American dream is just a hand-me-down nightmare.

At the hospital, the room was filled with weeping relatives.

The air was thick with the scent of lilies and loss. Cousins and aunts crowded together, whispering behind their hands. Every family has its vultures.

As I entered, my mother-in-law rushed over and slapped me. “Why are you so late? Kneel!”

The slap stung, her wedding ring leaving a welt on my cheek. The hush that followed was sharp as a church bell.

The sobbing in the room faded, and everyone stared at me, eager for drama.

Phones hovered, ready to record. Someone coughed, hoping for a front-row seat to the latest Cooper scandal.

I swallowed my pain and anger, lowered my head, and said, “I was rushing and got into a car accident. That’s why I’m late.”

My voice was barely more than a whisper. I wiped at the blood on my knee, letting the evidence speak for itself.

Only then did people notice the blood on my knee.

There was a collective gasp, a few concerned whispers. Someone offered me a tissue, but most just watched, hungry for more.

An older woman immediately spoke up. “Her knees are already hurt. Don’t make the girl kneel. And you—hitting her without knowing the situation is too much.”

The voice belonged to Derek’s great-aunt, the only person who ever showed me real kindness. She glared at my mother-in-law, daring her to try again.

My mother-in-law was stunned, then quickly changed the subject. “I was just anxious. Hurry and sign to confirm the body. Don’t keep my son waiting.”

She wrung her hands and looked away, her anger now replaced by feigned concern. I saw right through her, but I played along.

After signing, I lay over Derek’s body and wept, following all the way to the morgue.

My tears were both real and performative. The morgue’s chill seeped into my bones, the antiseptic sting making my eyes water. A nurse handed me a scratchy tissue, but I barely noticed.

The body had to stay there overnight and would be taken to the funeral home the next day.

I watched as the orderlies wheeled Derek away, his face already blurring in my memory. The hallway echoed with my footsteps as I followed them as far as I was allowed.

The doctor gently said, “My condolences. Family members can’t enter here.”

His tone was kind, the look in his eyes sympathetic. Regulations and procedures, as unyielding as ever.

Seeing everyone leaving, I looked up at the doctor with teary eyes. “Doctor, I didn’t get to see my husband one last time. Could I have a moment alone with him? Just five minutes.”

I pressed my palms together, voice trembling. Sometimes, even in America, a little vulnerability could bend the rules.

The doctor hesitated but finally agreed, quietly stepping away to the stairwell.

He gave a subtle nod, signaling the cameras weren’t watching. I slipped into the room, the weight of my plan pressing down on me.

With my back to the camera, I hugged Derek in farewell, but my hand slipped the stock transfer document from my clothes. I took Derek’s nearly stiff finger, dipped it in blood from my knee, and pressed his fingerprint onto the signature line.

The paper soaked up the blood, turning the signature into a red, undeniable truth. I tucked the document away, heart hammering as I whispered a final goodbye. My stomach flipped—part guilt, part grim satisfaction. This was survival, not love.

After I finished, I called the doctor and left immediately.

The hallway felt colder on my way out. I squared my shoulders, pushing through the heavy doors—one last look back before leaving the past behind.

At the hospital entrance, Caleb approached and handed me a list. “Ma’am, these are some of Mr. Cooper’s requirements for the funeral. Please prepare them.”

He handed me a crisp sheet, his voice betraying a trace of nervousness. The lobby was busy with people coming and going, but this moment felt strangely intimate.

Derek had always been meticulous and demanding, even about his funeral.

He’d planned every detail, right down to the brand of flowers and the kind of casket. The man couldn’t relinquish control, even in death.

In my previous life, I stayed up for nights preparing every item on that list, just to fulfill his last wishes. But in the end, it only became evidence of my humiliation.

I remembered the sleepless nights, the frantic phone calls, the way people pitied me behind my back. No amount of perfection could change how I was treated.

I didn’t take the list. Instead, I looked at Caleb. “If I remember correctly, you’ve been with Derek for four years, ever since you joined the company.”

I let the words hang, watching his expression carefully. In the cutthroat world of American business, loyalty is measured in years, not words.

Caleb froze for a moment. “Yes.”

His voice wavered, the mask slipping. He glanced around, making sure no one was eavesdropping.

I sighed. “Tell me, now that Derek is gone, where should I place you in the company?”

I leaned in, lowering my voice. The unspoken question was clear: whose side are you on?

Caleb hurried to answer, “Before Mr. Cooper passed, he told me to take charge of the Administration Department.”

He straightened his tie, trying to look confident, but I saw the doubt flicker in his eyes.

I looked up. “Really? Has the appointment been made official?”

I raised an eyebrow, lips pressed tight. In corporate America, promises meant nothing without paperwork.

“Not yet…” Caleb’s eyes widened, clutching the list tightly. “Ma’am… President Rachel, I’m sorry. I won’t trouble you with these things. I’ll handle them myself.”

He took a shaky step back, the list crumpling in his hands. Fear had a way of revealing the truth.

I smiled, took the list, and tore it up in front of him.

The sound of tearing paper was oddly satisfying. I dropped the scraps into the nearest trash can, making sure he saw every move.

“No need to prepare any of this. Go contact the funeral home and downgrade the funeral to the lowest standard. He’s dead—there’s no need to waste so much money.”

I said it loud enough for everyone nearby to hear. The message was clear: the days of indulgence were over.

Caleb stood frozen, not daring to speak.

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. I could see the calculations running behind his eyes.

I stepped closer, curling my lips. “Honestly, I feel sorry for you. You did so much for Derek, but even at the end, he didn’t trust you. He kept your appointment on hold, making you work hard to help Natalie take over. But have you thought about it? Ten months is enough for everything to change.”

I watched as my words sank in. In this world, loyalty only mattered when it was rewarded.

“What will you do then?”

The question hung between us, heavy with implication. This was America—reinvention was always an option, but so was betrayal.

Caleb’s pupils shrank and he stepped back in fear. “President Rachel, you… you know everything?”

He looked like he’d seen a ghost. I almost felt sorry for him—almost.

I let my smile fade. “I know far more than you think. I’m giving you one shot, Caleb. Pick the right side this time.”

I extended my hand, the offer as real as any contract. In the world of American business, alliances were everything.

“After the funeral, I’ll immediately appoint you as Administration Department Manager, plus 10% of the company shares.”

The promise was both carrot and stick. Enough to tempt, enough to threaten.

“Think it over and give me your answer soon.”

I straightened my blazer and watched his face, already calculating the odds. If he was smart, he’d choose me.

With that, I turned and left.

I pulled my keys from my purse, the cold metal reassuring in my palm. The sky outside was heavy with clouds, but I felt lighter than I had in years.

Just as I got in the car, my phone buzzed again. Unknown number. I hesitated, thumb hovering over the screen. Second chances always come with a catch.