Chapter 1

The day my husband went to his promotion celebration dinner, I was home making chicken soup, having just found out I was pregnant.

When I went to pick him up, the private room was trashed. My husband reeked of liquor, stripped bare, slumped on the couch with his eyes bloodshot.

The promotion fell through. That female coworker at his same level turned around and blasted photos into the company group chat, spreading rumors everywhere.

Mortimer James couldn't defend himself against any of it. He had no choice but to resign in disgrace, and he spent night after night out on the balcony, smoking.

Three months later, that woman showed up at our door with a fake belly, making a scene. Mortimer couldn't stand the neighbors pointing and whispering. He jumped from the twenty-sixth floor.

His parents rushed in overnight from their hometown and died in a car crash on the way.

The baby in my belly didn't make it either, and from my hospital bed I listened to relatives jab their fingers at me and call me a jinx.

Then I opened my eyes, and I was back on the day of the celebration dinner.

Mortimer was standing at the entryway changing his shoes. He turned back, smiling, and touched my face.

“Trace, I'll just go show my face for a bit. I'll come home early to be with you, I promise.”

I lunged forward, threw the deadbolt on the security door, and yanked the key out of the lock.

“No. You're not going anywhere tonight!”

......

The smile on Mortimer's face slowly froze.

“Trace, what's wrong?”

“This is the department's celebration dinner. Manager Whitney asked for me by name.”

“It's tied to next month's supervisor promotion.”

He came toward me and reached out to feel my forehead.

I flinched away like I'd been shocked, gripping that key so hard my nails dug into my palm.

“I said you're not going, so you're not going.”

“You set one foot out that door, and we're getting a divorce.”

Mortimer was completely thrown, a trace of helplessness in his voice.

“Trace, stop this.”

“Everyone's already there. They're just waiting on me.”

“Effie Pruitt just texted to hurry me up. She said Manager Whitney's getting a little annoyed.”

The second I heard Effie's name, my stomach turned over.

The woman who drove Mortimer to his death.

I clenched my teeth, and the tears spilled over before I could stop them.

“Morti, my stomach hurts.”

“It hurts so much.”

I let myself sink down to the floor, both hands pressed over my belly.

Mortimer's face changed in an instant. He scooped me up.

“What is it? Where does it hurt?”

“Did you eat something bad?”

I leaned into him and gripped his shirt for dear life.

“I'm pregnant. I just found out today.”

“But it hurts so much right now. Don't go. I'm scared.”

Mortimer looked at me, and his eyes went red all at once.

“Pregnant? Really?”

He touched my face, not knowing what to do with his hands, his voice shaking.

“I won't go. I'm not going anywhere.”

“I'm taking you to the hospital!”

I held him back.

“I'm just too worked up. Lie down with me for a while and I'll be fine.”

Mortimer nodded and nodded, carrying me toward the bedroom, rubbing the top of my head with his chin as he said quietly,

“Trace, that fierceness back there scared me. But I trust you. I trust that you wouldn't go crazy over nothing.”

He tucked the blanket around me, careful and gentle.

Right then, the phone I'd left in the living room rang.

Mortimer moved to answer it. I grabbed his hand.

“Don't. It's definitely Effie.”

Mortimer paused, but he still went over and picked it up.

Sure enough, Effie's name was flashing on the screen. He hit answer.

Effie's syrupy voice came through the speaker.

“Morti, how are you still not here?”

“Manager Whitney's asked about you a bunch of times.”

“Everyone's waiting to toast you. How can the soon-to-be supervisor show up late?”

Mortimer glanced at me lying on the bed.

“Effie, I'm not coming.”

“My wife isn't feeling well. I have to stay home and take care of her.”

The line went quiet for two seconds, then came a soft laugh.

“Oh, Morti, your wife is such a delicate thing.”

“Not sick before, not sick after, but somehow sick at exactly this moment.”

“This is your promotion dinner.”

“If you don't come, where does that leave Manager Whitney?”

Mortimer frowned.

“Apologize to Manager Whitney for me.”

“The promotion can wait. My wife comes first.”

With that, he hung up.

I watched him set the phone to silent, and the weight in my chest finally settled.

I closed my eyes. The wreck of my in-laws' crash from my last life still hung in front of me.

This time, I wasn't only going to protect Mortimer.

I was going to tear out Effie and whoever stood behind her, root and all.