Chapter 3: The Cost of Second Chances

But now, reborn, I have a chance to rewrite my fate.

The weight of the past pressed on me, but this time, I would not be crushed. Not by them, not by anyone.

These family members who never truly loved me—

I looked at them now, seeing them for who they really were. My chest tightened, but I kept my face calm.

I’ll make sure they pay, one by one.

A cold resolve settled in my chest. Let’s see how they handle the new me.

Mason, dangling by my grip, panicked. His little legs kicked in the air, twisting around.

He squirmed, tears welling in his eyes. “Mom, you’re my mom!”

“Don’t give me to Aunt Evie!”

His voice cracked, fear and confusion all tangled up. I paused, letting his words sink in, my heart twisting.

I coaxed him, brushing his hair back, trying to sound gentle.

“Your Aunt Evie is sick. If you don’t call her Mom for now, she’ll only get worse.”

I tried to make my voice soothing, but the lie tasted bitter. I pushed him gently toward Carter, my heart aching. I forced myself not to flinch.

I nudged him toward Carter.

“Be brave, okay?”

I ruffled his hair, trying to make him smile, but he just looked at me, bewildered and hurt. My chest tightened.

Carter froze, a hint of confusion on his face.

He glanced at me, then at Mason, uncertainty flickering in his eyes. He shifted his weight, hands awkward at his sides.

My mother, afraid I’d change my mind, rushed up to persuade him:

She grabbed his arm, her voice urgent. “Carter, please save Evie.”

“If things hadn’t gone sideways, she would’ve been your wife.”

Her words hung in the air, a not-so-subtle reminder of what might have been. I felt a flash of anger, but bit my tongue.

Carter stiffened, staring at Evelyn until she blushed.

The tension between them was so thick I could feel it in my bones. I looked away, fighting down a wave of jealousy.

Ha.

How could I forget? The two of them had quite a history.

Carter was once my father’s student. Poor family, but with good looks and talent, he quickly won my father’s favor.

Dad even talked about him like a future son-in-law.

He and Evelyn saw each other often, fell in love, and soon were engaged.

Their engagement had been the talk of the town. Mrs. Sanders at the bakery still gossiped about their matching rings.

But on their wedding day, Evelyn disappeared.

She’d met Zack Foster, a young Army captain from a well-known family, already twice decorated for valor.

She didn’t hesitate to run off and join him overseas. No second thoughts.

She left behind only a letter of apology next to her brand-new wedding dress.

The limo was already at the door. The dress hung untouched in her room.

Dad was so furious he nearly passed out.

But as a professor, he cared most about his reputation. His daughter’s runaway marriage was too much to bear. His pride was everything.

So he pushed the idea that the younger sister should marry in her place.

That’s how I became Carter’s wife. I barely had time to breathe before I was walking down the aisle, heart pounding, head spinning.

It was a whirlwind—one day I was the overlooked younger sister, the next I was standing at the altar in a dress that wasn’t meant for me. I’d loved Carter for as long as I could remember, but it always felt like I was living someone else’s life.

Funny, really. I’d secretly loved Carter since I was a girl, but could only watch as he and my sister shared their affections.

I kept my feelings hidden, content to be in the background. I’d fade into the wallpaper, watching them from the sidelines.

I hid my bitter love deep inside, knowing he didn’t love me. But when the chance came, I couldn’t resist and tried to seize it for myself.

I told myself it was fate, that I deserved a little happiness. Maybe this was my shot.

Luckily, I gambled right. After marriage, Carter did treat me well. He hated Evelyn for running away, and even when she returned to visit, he never treated her kindly—he only spoiled me.

I let myself believe it was real, that he’d chosen me. For a while, I let myself believe I was enough.

I lost myself in that false warmth, thinking he finally saw my worth.

It was easy to pretend, to lose myself in the comfort of routine. I clung to the illusion as long as I could.

It wasn’t until my dying day that I realized—

Carter had never let go of Evelyn. He was just resentful about being abandoned, using me to get back at her.

The truth was a bitter pill to swallow. I felt it burn all the way down.

Now, the two of them exchanged glances, shy and full of emotion. What else did I need to see?

Their eyes met, and the room seemed to shrink around them. I felt like a ghost in my own life.

“It’s getting late.”

I cleared my throat, breaking the spell. “Honey, move to the guest room tonight and treat my sister’s illness!”

A hint of surprise crossed Carter’s face. His probing gaze landed on me.

He looked at me, searching for a sign of jealousy, of anger. I held his gaze, unblinking.

“So soon?”

He sounded uncertain, as if hoping I’d change my mind.

“Claire, are you just angry and trying to make me share a bed with your sister?”

His words were half accusation, half plea. I shook my head, forcing a smile.

I shook my head, my expression calm.

“The sooner she’s treated, the sooner she’ll recover. I’m just worried if we wait, her illness will get worse…”

I tried to sound reasonable, practical. Just keep it together, I told myself.

Hearing this, my parents—afraid I’d change my mind—immediately chimed in.

They jumped in, eager to push things along. “No time like the present. Tonight it is!”

“You’re doing this to save her. There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

Their voices overlapped, anxious and insistent. The tension in the room ramped up another notch.

Soon, the guest room on the west side was lit up.

The house seemed to hold its breath. I stood in the hallway, listening to the distant hum of voices, the creak of floorboards. Every nerve in my body was on edge.

Inside, the woman’s soft cries came one after another, mingling with a man’s muffled groans, drifting out into the night.

The sounds were unmistakable, intimate. My stomach twisted. I felt exposed, raw.

The housekeeper and maids in the hallway all blushed.

They exchanged glances, whispering behind their hands. “Did you hear that?” “Guess Evelyn’s not as innocent as she looks.” “Her brother-in-law’s eager—didn’t even wait for a drink, already going again.”

“Honestly, the two of them don’t look like they’re treating an illness, more like they’re having an affair!”

The whispers reached my ears.

I clenched my fists. I reminded myself why I was doing this, even as the shame burned hot in my cheeks.

My mother, face red with embarrassment, finally looked a little guilty.

She approached me, eyes downcast, her voice soft. She took my hand, squeezing tight.

“Claire, I know you’ve been wronged.”

“But you and your sister are both my flesh and blood. How can I just watch her die?”

She reached for my hand, squeezing it tightly. Her grip was desperate, sweaty. I forced myself not to pull away.

Dad came over, too.

He stood beside Mom, nodding solemnly. He put a hand on my shoulder, eyes tired. “It’s only temporary. You’re both my daughters. I would never truly wrong you.”

They spoke so earnestly.

Their words were meant to comfort, but I saw through them. I wasn’t fooled. Not anymore.

But all I could think of was my previous life.

The memories flooded back—betrayal, loss, heartbreak. My stomach twisted. I would never let myself forget.

Dad was an upright professor with a spotless reputation. Evelyn wanted to be a cultured woman, untouched by the stench of money. The family survived on Grandpa’s inheritance, but over time, we grew poorer and poorer.

Our house was full of books and old photos, but the bills piled up. I remembered the musty smell of old paper, the sound of overdue notices hitting the floor. I was the only one willing to get my hands dirty, to work for what we had.

As I got older, I started earning money to help out—starting with a food truck, then slowly building up the Harper family business.

I hustled—early mornings, late nights, always chasing the next big break. I worked every job I could find, scraping by, never complaining.

The money I brought in grew and grew. After Evelyn ran away, I became my parents’ support and pride. I thought I’d finally earned their love.

I paid for their comforts, their hobbies, their dreams. Dad’s antique books, Mom’s jewelry, Carter’s new suits for work. I gave them everything.

But when the business collapsed, not even half a day passed before they cut me off and threw me out.

Their gratitude vanished, replaced by cold indifference. It was like I’d never mattered at all.

Only then did I realize—no matter how much time passed, their favoritism would never change.

I was always second best, always the backup plan. I felt it deep in my bones.

Their hearts had always been biased.

The truth stung, but it set me free. I owed them nothing now.

Now, their false words of comfort no longer moved me.

I smiled politely, but inside, I was already gone. I felt hollow, numb.

I waved them off and headed outside.

“It’s fine. Saving my sister comes first.”

I grabbed my purse, slipping out the door before they could protest. The porch light flickered as I stepped into the night.

“Where are you going?”

Mom called after me, worry etched on her face. She stood in the doorway, wringing her hands.

“It’s late. I need to get some rest.”

I lied, of course. I was going to the Blue Lantern Club for the lantern-lighting, to bid on the male escort’s debut night. My heart thudded with anticipation.

I have no interest in men who’ve been with others. If I’m going to use someone, it has to be someone new.

The thought made me smile—a small, secret victory. For once, I was doing something for myself.

Besides, this was the very benefactor Evelyn latched onto in her past life.

Now, he was mine.

I felt a thrill of anticipation. My hands tingled as I gripped my purse. This time, I would be the one in control.