His Annoyance, My Awakening

From the back cover

The last thing I remembered was the grinding sound of machinery, a symphony of six years in our small town, now a city death knell.

My children, Lily and Tom, were so excited to visit their father Michael' s new, successful factory.

"They've missed Michael so much, Ava. Let them go see him. He's just inside." Sarah, Michael's brother's widow, whispered, her arm around my shoulder, her voice a sweet poison.

I watched them run ahead, their small figures disappearing through the massive doorway, believing their father was building a better life for us.

They didn' t know the truth: Michael had left us for Sarah, taking our factory severance pay to build his new life with her and her children.

Then I saw Sarah' s real smile-sharp, cold. She pushed an unsecured metal cart. A klaxon blared. Two screams, cut short by a sickening crunch, a spray of red. My world ended.

Michael stood over me, his face filled with chilling annoyance, not grief.

"Well, that's that, then," he said, flatly. "Saves me the trouble and expense of a divorce, I guess."

He glanced at the machinery. "They were just baggage anyway, Ava. Holding me back."

His words annihilated my soul, a physical force squeezing the breath from me. The world turned gray, then black. I died on that cold, greasy floor.

And then, I gasped. I was in my cramped bedroom, sunlight filtering through the grimy window. A calendar on the wall marked the day the factory closed. Lily and Tom sat on the rug, whole and alive.

"Mommy?" Lily asked, her big brown eyes filled with concern. "Are you okay?"

Tears streamed down my face. I clung to them, inhaling their scent. I was back.

The memory of their deaths, of Michael's monstrous words, was burned into my mind. Grief remained, a hot knot of agony, but something cold, hard, and sharp solidified beside it.

Revenge. Michael. Sarah. You will pay. I will tear down your world, piece by piece, and I will make you feel every ounce of the agony you gave me.

This was not a second chance at happiness. It was a second chance at justice.