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Chapter 1 - Chapter 1: The End and the Beginning

Nathan Parker sat rigidly in the plush leather chair, his weathered hands clasped tightly in his lap. The divorce lawyer's office felt suffocating with its mahogany walls and pretentious awards displayed behind an imposing desk. Beside him, Maya Bennett-Parker—soon to be just Maya Bennett again—checked her phone with the casual indifference of someone buying groceries.

"Maya," Nathan whispered, leaning slightly toward his wife of twelve years. "Are you sure about this? We could try counseling again, or—"

She didn't even look up from her screen. Her manicured fingers continued scrolling through what appeared to be social media posts, her expression as cold as winter frost.

The heavy oak door swung open, and Richard Morrison, Esquire, strode in carrying a manila folder thick with documents. His expensive suit and practiced smile screamed success—the kind Nathan had never achieved.

"Good morning, Mr. and Mrs. Parker," Morrison said, settling into his chair with practiced ease. "I have all the paperwork ready for your signatures. Mrs. Parker, as we discussed, you'll retain the house, your family's assets remain untouched, and there's no alimony involved given the prenuptial agreement."

Nathan's jaw tightened. That prenuptial agreement—signed under pressure from Maya's family when he was young and naive, believing love would conquer all.

"And Mr. Parker," Morrison continued, "you'll keep your personal belongings and the savings account, which amounts to..." He glanced at his notes. "Approximately three thousand dollars."

Twelve years of marriage reduced to three thousand dollars and a suitcase of clothes.

Morrison slid the papers across the polished table. Maya immediately grabbed a pen and began signing with swift, decisive strokes. No hesitation. No last glances. Nothing.

Nathan's hand trembled as he picked up the pen. "Maya, please. Just look at me. One last time."

She finally raised her eyes, but they held no warmth, no trace of the woman he'd fallen in love with. "Nathan, just sign the papers. This charade has gone on long enough."

The words hit him like physical blows. With a heavy heart, he signed his name on each designated line, officially ending what had never really begun.

---

Outside the law office, Nathan squinted against the harsh afternoon sun. Maya was already walking toward the parking garage, her designer heels clicking against the pavement with military precision.

"Maya, wait!" Nathan jogged to catch up with her. "I know things didn't work out between us, but maybe we could still be friends? I mean, we shared twelve years together. That has to count for something."

She stopped abruptly and turned to face him, her expression colder than he'd ever seen it. "Friends? Nathan, you need to understand something. This divorce isn't just an ending—it's my liberation. I want to move on from this part of my life completely. I never want to look back. Ever."

"But Maya—"

"There is no 'but.' I want you to stay away from me and my family. Consider this the last conversation we'll ever have."

Before Nathan could respond, the rumble of a luxury car engine filled the air. A sleek black BMW pulled up to the curb, and out stepped Jason Williams—six feet tall, perfectly groomed, wearing a suit that probably cost more than Nathan made in three months.

"Baby," Jason called out with a megawatt smile, completely ignoring Nathan's presence. He strode over and possessively wrapped his arm around Maya's waist. "How did it go? Are you finally free from this deadweight?"

Nathan's fists clenched at his sides. "Jason, show some respect. We just finalized our divorce an hour ago."

Jason laughed—a harsh, mocking sound. "Respect? For what? You've been a leech on the Bennett family for over a decade. Maya deserves a real man who can actually provide for her." He pulled Maya closer. "Someone with ambition, success, a future. Everything you're not."

"Jason, please," Maya said softly, though she made no move to leave his embrace. "There's no need for this."

"No need?" Jason's eyes gleamed with cruel amusement. "Maya, this man has wasted twelve years of your life. The most beautiful, intelligent woman I know, tied down to a nobody who couldn't even afford to take her to a decent restaurant."

Nathan felt his face burning with humiliation. "Maya, are you going to let him talk to me like this?"

Maya looked away. "Nathan, just... let it go. Please."

Jason smirked triumphantly. "Come on, baby. Let's get out of here. I made reservations at Le Bernardin for tonight." He guided Maya toward the passenger side of the BMW. "Time to start your real life."

As the car pulled away, Nathan caught a glimpse of Maya in the passenger seat. For just a moment, she looked back at him through the window. But there was no sadness, no regret—just relief.

---

The city bus ride to his mother-in-law's house took forty-five minutes, during which Nathan stared out the grimy window at a world that suddenly felt foreign. When he finally arrived at the modest two-story home where he'd lived for the past four years—ever since Maya's family made it clear he wasn't welcome in "their" house—he found his clothes scattered across the front lawn like confetti after a parade.

His mother-in-law, Janet Bennett, emerged from the front door carrying another armload of his belongings. She was a thin, sharp-featured woman who'd never hidden her disdain for him.

"Well, well," Janet said, dropping the clothes unceremoniously onto the grass. "Look what the cat dragged in. Come to collect your pathetic belongings?"

"Janet, I just need a few days to find somewhere else to live—"

"A few days?" She laughed bitterly. "Nathan, you've been living here rent-free for four years, eating our food, using our utilities, all while contributing absolutely nothing to this household. That ends today."

"I paid what I could—"

"Fifty dollars a week?" Janet's voice rose. "Fifty dollars for room and board? My daughter's dog walker makes more than that." She crossed her arms. "You know what? I'm actually relieved this is finally over. I've been wondering for years why Maya didn't divorce you sooner. What took her so long to come to her senses?"

Nathan silently gathered his scattered belongings—a few worn shirts, two pairs of jeans, some books, and a small wooden box containing the only photo he had of Maya's grandfather. The old man had been the only person in the Bennett family who'd ever shown him kindness.

"That's it?" Janet called out mockingly. "Twelve years of marriage and this is all you have to show for it? Pathetic."

With his belongings stuffed into two garbage bags, Nathan walked away from the house without looking back.

---

The park bench was harder than Nathan remembered, but it was better than sleeping on the streets. As evening approached, families packed up their picnic blankets and children reluctantly left the playground. Soon, Nathan was alone with only the streetlights and his thoughts for company.

Where had it all gone wrong? He thought back to that day eleven years ago when he'd pulled Maya's grandfather from that burning car on the Williamsburg Bridge. The old man had been so grateful, so insistent that Nathan marry his granddaughter. "She needs a good man," he'd said. "Someone with character, not just money."

But character didn't pay bills. Character didn't buy designer clothes or fancy vacations. Character didn't earn respect from the Bennett family.

Maybe if he'd been more ambitious, more ruthless in business. Maybe if he'd fought harder against their constant criticism instead of trying to keep the peace. Maybe if he'd been born into wealth like Jason Williams...

"Excuse me, are you Nathan Parker?"

Nathan looked up to see two men in dark clothing approaching his bench. Something about their purposeful stride made his instincts scream danger.

"Who's asking?" Nathan stood slowly, his muscles tensing.

"Someone wants to see you," the larger man said. Before Nathan could react, something hard struck the back of his head, and the world went black.

---

When consciousness returned, Nathan found himself on his knees atop a familiar bridge—the same Williamsburg Bridge where he'd met Maya's grandfather. The city lights twinkled below like fallen stars, and the wind whipped through his hair with bitter cold.

Behind him stood three figures he recognized all too well. Priscilla Bennett, Maya's grandmother, was a formidable woman in her seventies with steel-gray hair and eyes like chips of ice. Beside her stood David Bennett, Maya's cousin—a weaselly man in his thirties who'd always resented Nathan's presence in the family. And completing the trio was Jason Williams, no longer wearing his expensive suit but dressed in black like the men who'd kidnapped him.

"Hello, Nathan," Priscilla said, her voice carrying the authority of someone accustomed to being obeyed. "I'm sure you're wondering why you're here."

"Mrs. Bennett, I signed the divorce papers. I'm out of Maya's life. What more do you want?"

"What I want," Priscilla said, stepping closer, "is to ensure you stay out of her life permanently. You see, Nathan, your very existence is a stain on our family's reputation. Even divorced from Maya, you carry the Bennett name in people's memories. That's unacceptable."

David snickered. "Face it, Nathan. You were always going to end up here. From the moment you wormed your way into our family, this was inevitable."

"Grandmother Bennett," Nathan said desperately, "I'll leave the city. You'll never see me again. I promise."

"Promises from a man like you are worthless," Jason interjected. "Besides, we can't risk you trying to win Maya back with some pathetic sob story. She's too kind-hearted for her own good sometimes."

Priscilla nodded approvingly at Jason. "At least Jason understands what it means to protect family interests. He has everything you lack—breeding, wealth, ambition. He's the man Maya should have married from the beginning."

Nathan's heart raced as he realized the full scope of their intent. "You're actually going to kill me? Over what? Hurt pride?"

"Over family honor," Priscilla corrected. "Something you've never understood."

She produced a small revolver from her purse, its metal surface gleaming under the bridge lights. "Goodbye, Nathan Parker. You were a mistake that should have been corrected years ago."

The gunshot echoed across the bridge, and Nathan felt himself falling—not just from the bridge, but into an endless void of darkness.

---

The hot water hit Nathan's face like liquid fire, jolting him from the depths of unconsciousness. His eyes flew open to see Janet Bennett standing over him with an empty pot, her face twisted in familiar annoyance.

"Stop being so lazy and get up!" Janet scolded. "Do you think you can sleep until noon while the rest of us work?"

Nathan sat up abruptly, his mind reeling in confusion. He was on a worn couch in a small living room he recognized but couldn't quite place. The walls were painted a faded yellow, and sunlight streamed through curtains he remembered Maya picking out years ago.

His eyes darted to the television in the corner, where a news anchor was speaking: "...and in other news, this Tuesday, March 15th, 2018, marks the beginning of..."

2018. Eleven years ago.

Nathan's breath caught in his throat as the impossible reality hit him. This was their old apartment—the tiny one-bedroom they'd shared in the early years of their marriage, before Maya's family had grudgingly allowed them to move into Janet's house.

"What's going on here?"

The voice was like music from another life. Nathan turned toward the bedroom doorway, and his heart nearly stopped. There stood Maya—but not the cold, distant woman who'd signed divorce papers hours ago. This Maya was radiant, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders, wearing a crisp business suit and pencil skirt that accentuated her figure. Her skin glowed with youth, and when she looked at him, there was still warmth in her eyes.

She was twenty-one again. Beautiful, vibrant, and looking at him with something that might have been concern.

Nathan stared at her, unable to speak, unable to breathe, unable to do anything but marvel at the impossible sight before him. Somehow, someway, he had been given another chance.

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