But in that past, that "first life," my story ended brutally. The economy tanked, my husband, Blake, blinded by his obsession w
run that had, in my first life, set me on that tragic path. Pure panic seized me. Not again. I wouldn't repeat the
swirled: "Poor Sarah." "Blake looks smitten." "I'm happy for her," I lied, the words tasting like glass, knowing he'd secretly coa