Chapter 6: Bargains and Bitter Truths

My marriage to Derek Sloan was settled.

It was done the old-fashioned way, with both families sitting around the big oak table in the dining room, hands folded and eyes bright with hope.

Caleb found a chance to talk to me alone as I was leaving.

He cornered me near the back staircase, where the family photos trailed up the wall. His voice was low and urgent.

“Last time, you paid for what you did to Jenny. We’re square. Just stay out of her way, keep your nose clean, and I won’t mess with your family. Derek might not be the best match, but he’s good enough for you. Forget about me and live well with him. Stop making things hard for Jenny. I won’t hold it against you for exposing her pregnancy and embarrassing her, since you gave her freedom. But if you don’t change, don’t blame me for being ruthless.”

He delivered the speech like a prosecutor, every word weighed and measured. But there was something hollow behind it—like he was reciting lines he’d practiced for years.

He was condescending, stern-faced, his eyes cold as steel—just like when he finally showed his true colors in my last life.

He used to look at me like I was a project to be managed. That cold efficiency had never left him.

But then, he wore tailored suits, Italian shoes, a Rolex on his wrist, even his tie pin was gold.

I’d spent a decade watching him become the kind of man people admired at galas—the sort who shook hands with mayors and bankers and never forgot a birthday.

Now, he wore a faded blue button-down, scuffed sneakers, not a single valuable thing on him.

He looked like every other kid trying to make it out of Silver Hollow, blending in instead of standing out.

Half of a person’s dignity comes from how they look.

It was true—he no longer carried himself like the man who ruined my family. Just another dreamer in a town full of them.

He was like a powerless madman, completely unaware he now had nothing, and no right to bargain with me.

I almost pitied him—almost.

I looked at him quietly. “Not even close.”

My voice was calm, but inside, I was on fire. He had no idea what I’d been through, or what I was willing to do now.

He sighed and called me by my name. “Natalie, why are you like this? The woman I love has never been a spoiled and clueless person like you. Jenny told me your reputation was built by her and Megan for you. I guess you knew about me and Jenny in the last life, but to marry me, you went along with it and forced her to her death. Whatever, let’s not talk about it. You were my wife for ten years. You should be satisfied.”

His words stung—years of bitterness condensed into one angry paragraph. But I’d heard worse from him before.

He really was blind and foolish.

It was amazing, really, how someone so smart could be so wrong.

In the last life, Jenny not only impersonated me, but also copied my poems. The piano pieces I played, the paintings I made, even the unfinished chess games with my brother—she used them all as her own.

She’d been a shadow, quietly slipping into every part of my life. I wondered if Caleb even noticed, or if he just liked the reflection better than the real thing.

Caleb was fooled by her, not knowing her real identity, so it made sense he thought she was talented.

People see what they want to see. Caleb wanted perfection, and Jenny was willing to give it to him, no matter the cost.

But after the truth came out, he still let her words guide him. Wasn’t that just stupid?

It’s one thing to be fooled. It’s another to cling to the lie, even after you know it’s a lie. That was Caleb’s real weakness.

“Caleb Monroe,” I stared into his eyes, my expression icy, “my dad, my mom, my sister-in-law, my nephew—four lives—aren’t something you can just call ‘even.’”

I spoke each name slowly, making sure he couldn’t look away.

And the child in my own womb.

In ten years, I got pregnant four times, miscarried four times, and in the end could never have kids.

Those losses never made the gossip columns, but they broke me all the same.

I used to count the weeks on my fingers, hoping this time would be different. But hope always ran out before the second trimester.

All this, and he says we’re even?

It was almost laughable. Almost.

I sneered. “Caleb, you and I—it’s not over until one of us is dead.”

I meant every word, and for the first time, I saw a flicker of fear cross his face.