I started working out of a small room on the second floor of the house.
Adrian didn't like it.
He didn't say anything when he saw the desk, two monitors, and stacks of documents beginning to fill the room. He simply stood in the doorway with the expression of someone who had just discovered a foreign object in his own home.
"Are you sure this is necessary?"
"Yes."
"You just lost our child."
I stared at the laptop screen. "That's exactly why."
Adrian looked as though he wanted to argue, but he couldn't find a sentence that sounded caring enough without making him seem like he was trying to stop me.
"I'm just worried you're pushing yourself too hard."
"You don't need to worry."
He smiled faintly. "I'm your husband. It's only natural that I worry."
That sentence almost made me laugh.
In my first life, I had once hoped he truly felt like a husband. I waited for him to defend me, choose me, or simply ask whether I could still manage to get up every morning.
He never did.
Now, his concern sounded like an obligation he wanted to finish as quickly as possible.
"Marcus is coming tomorrow," I said.
Adrian stiffened immediately. "Marcus?"
"To discuss the company."
"Your company?"
"The company that used to be mine."
He fell silent.
I didn't need to explain that some of the shares had already been put back in my name. Adrian had always assumed that money and business were languages he understood better than I did.
That was his first mistake.
That afternoon, I received an initial report from Marcus. The company wasn't large yet, but it had two long-standing clients and one government project with room to grow. I read every page carefully.
On the last page, Marcus had left a handwritten note.
Don't give Adrian access to this contract.
I smiled without realizing it.
Marcus might not know what had happened in my first life, but he recognized danger quickly.
That night, Vivian called.
"Adrian said you've started working again."
"News travels fast."
"He's worried."
"He already said that."
"Evelyn." Vivian's voice softened. "You don't have to prove anything to anyone."
"I'm not trying to prove anything."
"Then why return to the business world?"
I looked at the screen filled with numbers.
"Because I used to love it."
"You quit for your family back then."
Back then.
The single phrase sounded harmless, but it carried a reminder planted there deliberately.
I sighed.
"Adrian asked me to quit."
"He only wanted to protect you from the pressure."
"Did he tell you that?"
Vivian fell silent.
I let the silence linger. Not for long—just long enough to make her realize she had opened a door she should have kept closed.
"I'm sorry," I said. "I'm still quick to suspect people."
"You can be suspicious of me," she replied quickly. "I won't leave."
I closed my eyes.
In my first life, I believed that was what loyalty looked like.
Now I knew that people who said they wouldn't leave were sometimes only waiting for someone to open the door for them.
Before going to sleep, I wrote three notes in a new notebook.
Don't reveal what I know.
Don't act out of anger.
Don't let them know I'm controlling the game.
Beneath them, I wrote one more sentence.
Find out when Vivian started planning Ethan's death.
I didn't know the answer yet.
But I knew the first place I had to look: our own home.
I began my search in Ethan's room.
In my first life, that room had never truly been empty. His toys were still arranged on the shelves. The blue blanket was still folded at the foot of the bed. Even the moon-shaped night-light still came on every time I entered, as if my son were only sleeping somewhere else.
This time, the room didn't exist yet.
Our house still held an empty space that had not yet been given a name.