The Day I Died Twice Chapter 02

The Day I Died Twice Chapter 02

I had rehearsed grief in front of a courtroom for months. Smiling into my husband’s face was easier than anyone would ever guess.

“Almost,” I said. “I just need to grab Mabel’s swim things.”

“Good girl.” He kissed my forehead, and I forced myself not to flinch. His lips felt like a branding iron.

In my last life, that kiss had melted me. I’d believed we were healing. I’d believed the cold months were behind us. I’d had no idea I was holding the man who had already decided to destroy me.

“I’ll go warm up the car,” he said.

The second he rounded the corner, I bolted to the kitchen, snatched my phone, and started recording every detail I could dredge up.

Because here was the truth I’d died learning:

Nathaniel didn’t simply want a divorce. A divorce would have carved up his company, his accounts, his image. He’d built an empire on being the perfect family man—the magazine covers, the charity galas, the photos of him pushing Mabel on a swing.

A divorce made him a flawed man.

A dead wife made him a tragic hero.

And a wife who’d murdered their child made him a saint the

—

whole country would weep for.

That was the plan. That had always been the plan.

In my previous life, here’s how it played out:

We arrived at the lake. Nathaniel and Marissa pretended to be strangers. At 2 p.m., Nathaniel suggested I take Mabel for a walk by the water “to clear my head.” I did. Then he called me back inside for a phone call—my mother, he said, was on the line.

It wasn’t my mother. The call was nothing but empty static.

When I came back outside, three minutes later, Mabel was floating face-down in the water.

And six witnesses—neighbors Marissa had spent weeks befriending—swore they’d watched me hold my daughter under.

Six. Just like the seven men in some other person’s nightmare. Strangers, paid or manipulated, every one of them pointing at me with absolute certainty.

I’d had no defense. No alibi. My own husband took the stand and said, his voice cracking, “She’d been so distant. So angry. I never thought she could do this… but God help me, I think she did.”

The jury cried. The nation cried. And I went to prison while Nathaniel and Marissa raised their glasses in my empty house.

—

I gripped the kitchen counter until my knuckles whitened.

Not this time.

I texted my mother first.

Me: Mom, do NOT come to the lake house this weekend, no matter what anyone tells you. Stay home. I’ll explain everything. I love you. Promise me.

The three dots appeared. Vanished. Appeared again.

Mom: Honey, you’re scaring me. What’s wrong?

Me: Just promise me. Please.

Mom: I promise. Call me tonight.

One thread cut. In my last life, Nathaniel had called her himself, sobbing, telling her to “come quickly, something’s happened to Mabel,” luring her to the scene so she’d watch my arrest with her own eyes. The shock had stopped her heart.

Not this time.

“Babe?” Nathaniel’s voice drifted in from the driveway. “Car’s ready!”

I deleted the texts, slipped my phone into my pocket, and called back sweetly, “Coming!”

But I wasn’t getting into that car.

I was laying a trap.

—

And the bait was going to be me.