Chapter 2

I stubbed out my cigarette.

The boy had just turned eighteen, full of youth and genuinely handsome.

And the moment I saw him, I knew.

He looked like me.

Like James Harper at eighteen.

"You're right about one thing. If Emma still loved me, you wouldn't exist."

I stood up, my stomach actually hurting a bit. I leaned on the table for support, not letting it show.

"But I advise you not to get in too deep. Emma never loved you, or me."

"She only loves the James in her memories."

The handsome, innocent James who died on the path of helping her climb to the top.

"In a few years, she'll find a new replacement. You'll end up worse off than me."

Actually, I was lying to him.

I'm about to die, how could he possibly be worse off than me?

At most, he'll just be used and discarded by Emma.