The Queens Vengeance Reborn

The sterile smell of the hospital room was the last thing I remembered.

Cancer had eaten away at me, my career crumbled, my fortune gone.

Then I saw them: my perfectly made-up wife, Sarah, and our sullen son, Billy, standing by my deathbed.

"Just sign the papers, Mark," she' d said, her voice devoid of warmth, talking about my last company shares for David' s "venture."

David. The man she' d been sleeping with for years, Billy' s biological father.

I remembered the fake charity events, the money diverted, my childhood home sold to cover his gambling debts.

I remembered how she' d helped my mother take her car to a "new mechanic," and how, as I lay dying, Sarah laughed, confessing to tampering with the brakes.

"She never liked me anyway," she' d whispered, her face inches from mine, "And Billy... Does he look anything like you? You pathetic idiot."

The monitor flatlined as Billy turned away in disgust and Sarah smiled, victorious.