In Another Life: Second Chances - Book One, page 1
In Another Life
Second Chances Trilogy - Book One
A.B. Marie
Copyright © 2021 A.B. Marie
All rights reserved
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Cover design by: A.B. Marie
Library of Congress Control Number: 2018675309
Printed in the United States of America
To my ex that never believed in me. Suck it.
"As you go through life, you will see that there is so much that we don't understand. And the only thing we know is that things don't always go the way we plan."
The Lion King
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Epigraph
Introduction
Contact
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Extras
Afterword
Acknowledgement
Book Links
Contact
Introduction
My name is Mauve Morrigan... Have you ever hit rock bottom?
You wake up one day, barely able to get out of bed and wonder what the hell happened to get to this point?
Divorced. A single mother. Losing everything, including my sanity, in my recent divorce. My home. My cars. My company.
My life, my... everything has changed. And I don't know where to go from here.
I've gained too much weight, lost too many friends. Even my own family doesn't speak to me. Is it all my fault? It feels like it. At least my children are on the other side of the country, in college, and seem to be happy.
I just wish that I was prepared for what came next. No one could have foreseen it. That there is more out there. That I'm different... And so are my children.
A curse... or so my grandmother says. I just wish she was still alive to answer all of the questions I have. So that I can meet her and... probably shake her for the way my life is turning out.
In Another Life... I'm not sure I would have come to Massachusetts. And now that I'm being stalked and someone is trying to kill me and my new friends... I'm starting to regret it.
In Another Life is the first book in the Second Chances trilogy. This is a slow burn reverse harem, meaning the main character has more than three love interests and doesn't have to choose. Why choose, anyway?
This book is intended for readers over the age of 18. There may be triggers for sensitive readers, including, strong language and mature adult content and situations.
Also included in this book: plus-size, mature FMC, witches, warlocks, vampires, shifters, demons, and angels.
Enjoy!
Contact
Email: abmarie_author@outlook.com
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Chapter 1
Mauve
________
Happy birthday to me.
Forty-five, divorced, and living on my own in a tiny apartment in Los Angeles. I sigh as I toss up my waist-length, plain brown hair into a messy bun and heave another brown box into my bedroom and toss it on my unmade bed. I spin around in the tiny room that barely contains my new full-sized bed, one nightstand, and a miniscule desk with no drawers under the window that overlooks the enclosed dog park in the center of the apartment complex. There is a closet in here, thankfully, but there is just a rack for hanging clothes, not even large enough for shelves or any storage. At least the paint and carpets are fresh. Not that it covers up the old, stale cigarette scents from the place, but I’ve been lighting candles frequently.
I still can’t believe he left me for our secretary. We were married for over twenty years, have two children, a company, and were doing well. Or so I thought, or forced myself to believe… It wasn’t the happiest of marriages and we stopped trying to even be remotely friends even before the children were born.
I still thought that we would figure it out eventually. Maybe there are no truly happy marriages… Just two people that cohabitate the same house, work together, and raise children. Now that I don’t have any of those, I’m lost and not sure where to go from here. At least I have my new job to look forward to. The divorce is final. No more court dates, meetings with my lawyer, and no more threats from Hunter’s piece of shit attorney.
My degree is in graphic and interior design, so at least I had that to fall back on, since I severed my ties to our real estate company and handed it over to the devil. Not that I truly had the choice…
I hated selling houses anyway. I despised my fake smiles, showing decrepit and over-priced dwellings in the heart of LA. Maybe he was right to leave me… But he didn’t have to humiliate us both and sleep with Natalie, who is the same age as our daughter. Then blame it on me and continued driving into her body with smiles on their faces. As if they wanted to be caught. They were happy about me standing there, mouth agape, and feeling like the dumbest woman of all time. My own bed.
I shake my head and sit at my desk so that I can go through my emails and keep an eye out for the freelance jobs. Thank goodness for my friends… well, friend. At least Hunter didn’t take her away from me, too.
I’m still slightly panting, trying to catch my breath, from just moving the one box into my room. I stare down at my frumpy, tight attire and laugh to myself. I’ve truly let myself go over the years. My breasts sag from breastfeeding my children, and they’re almost as large as my bloated stomach. My thighs and waist are covered in stretch marks and cellulite and I frown as I wiggle my ass on the chair. My best asset but still massive. Maybe I can go to the gym and start working out and getting back into shape. It would definitely give me something to do during the day instead of moping around this shoebox of an apartment.
My storage unit is filled with my old clothes from my ‘skinny’ days. I’ve never been a size zero or anything, but I was fit, healthy. And I was definitely able to move boxes and go up and down flights of stairs without thinking I’m having a heart attack.
Now I just look like someone who really loves cake and cheeseburgers. Which… I do. I really do. And milkshakes. And just watching TV. It’s not like I have small children to chase around anymore. Or a job to look good for… I haven’t worked at the office in almost a year, and I’ve probably gained another fifty pounds from all of the stress.
I lean my head down on my desk and lightly bang my forehead against it. “Get it together, Mauve.” I whisper and cluck my tongue to myself after I sit up and glare at my reflection in the window. Might as well see if Samantha has the jobs ready for me before I blow all of my money that should be going to the kids’ college tuition, housing, and groceries... Since Hunter was against helping out our children, all of my money went to helping them as best I could.
Luckily Ashlynn and Davis both received scholarships and grants. Ashlynn for academics and Davis for baseball.
I scroll through my junk and spam emails and smile when I see an email pop up in my main inbox from Samantha with a list of freelance graphic design jobs that I can easily do from home. Mostly websites… A couple are for brochures for random companies all around the state. I scroll to the bottom to see how much I’ll be paid for job and hold my breath as I read it. Over and over.
Wow. Samantha has done well for herself.
We met in college and were dormmates at UCLA. She was smart, smarter than me… She never married. Put herself first and is one of the most sought out interior and graphic designers in the state, hell, probably the entire country. She has begged me for years to work with her, in pursuit of a partner.
I wish I took her up on this from the start.
Finishing up these jobs will put several thousand dollars in my account that I can send the kids for groceries, gas, and play money... Since the money I’m receiving from Hunter can help out with their tuition and housing, if there’s enough left over after my own bills.
They both have part-time jobs lined up to line their pockets, but I truly wish I could help more so that they can focus on their academics instead of worrying about money and bills.
My father passed away when I was sixteen and he left me a sizable trust that I used for my education… If I was smarter with my money… invested instead of listening to Hunter and poured all of it into our company and house… I would be a wealthy woman… A very wealthy woman.
Well, technically I am, I just don’t want to touch my investment accounts just yet. I’m fine for now, the kids are both at their respective colleges, ready for their new term… And I’m scraping by to ensure everyone else is happy. Like always.
Hunter will be paying me several thousand dollars a month for decades after his shark of a lawyer basically cried to our judge that, since I’m ‘leaving’ our company, he won’t have the means to survive his lifestyle if he paid me the money I’m actually owed in a lump sum.
Fucking asshole. Narcissistic piece of shit. With his perfect auburn hair, deep green eyes, and a body that still looks as good as it did when we met in college.
I leave my laptop open and step out of my small bedroom into the rest of my miniscule apartment. I could afford the rent on something bigger and more… sustainable if I didn’t set aside so much for the kids... A house in the suburbs, probably. But I’m still unsure I even want to stay here in California. My children are on the east coast. There’s nothing left for me here unless I want to work with Samantha in her office.
I pull out a mini pizza from my freezer and throw it in the microwave as I tap my brittle nails against the cheap Formica counter tops and stare out the window. My apartment complex is on the other side of the city from Hunter and our real estate company. This way I won’t run into him. Ever.
Maybe I should just pull out all of the money I’ve been placing in investments and my retirement fund... I despise how back and forth I am about it.
I can go on a vacation, buy a house… Pay off all of Ashlynn’s student loan debt… This is Davis’s first year, so he doesn’t have any, especially after the amount of scholarship money and grants he’s received. All I really have to help with is his housing since he wanted to be near the rest of the baseball players in the expensive athletic dorms.
I’ll be taxed and penalized from removing the money early from the retirement fund… But my investments have been doing well. Really fucking well. The cryptocurrency stocks have made me enough money to at least buy a house and a plot of land somewhere, along with enough money for the kids to help them through their college careers… and a new car and still have money left over. Thank goodness Hunter didn’t care about any of that money since he doesn’t believe in investments in cryptocurrencies. Said that I would probably lose it all anyway and told his lawyer he only wanted our company, house, and cars.
Only.
Because throwing your wife out of her home, keeping her favorite cars, and the business that she started. And Natalie, our secretary, was by his side, smiling at me with a smug expression as if she’s the winner of the prize. I snort. She’s free to have him. He won’t treat her any better than he did me… She just sees a gorgeous older man that’s successful and ‘rich’. Not so much anymore with how much he’s paying me for the rest of his life.
He’s not an abusive man… Just negligent and only cares about himself.
I assumed after we had children it would make him softer… But he just stayed the same. Attending the gym for hours a day, lunches with investors and banker ‘friends’, working for several hours at the office, open houses… He went on trips and retreats almost every weekend to attend seminars all over the country.
So, he was never home. I stayed home with the kids until they started school before I went back to work. After that, I just gave up. On myself, on our marriage. What was the point? We still had sex, still would be friendly towards one another. Still slept in the same bed… But it was never romantic or loving.
I gained weight. Drank after the kids went to bed. I hired a housekeeper because I couldn’t keep up with the house and then the years just flew by. Now he’s moved our tall, willowy, gorgeous secretary into our master bedroom. She’s sleeping in my bed, hanging her clothes in my closet, bathing in my shower. She has natural long blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and should be a model, not a secretary stealing another woman’s husband. Her bosses no less.
The microwave beeps, removing me from my thoughts, and I inhale the fragrant cheese, tomato, and Italian seasoning aroma permeating the air as I sit back down at the table that’s barely even large enough to fit two people. I gaze down at my sad pizza with a beer in my hand and I pull out my phone and take a deep breath and let it out.
Tomorrow. I will shop for real food. I will drink more water. No more alcohol… I will start working out and put myself first. I’m going to sell my stocks and go on a trip after I lose one hundred pounds. I’m going to help my kids and get them into condos… or something.
I’ll figure it out.
_______________
It’s too damn late… and I can’t sleep. I started on a few of the jobs… ate some popcorn and more cheese… and another beer. Then another.
Then I finished the six pack.
Might as well drink it while it’s in the fridge so I’m not tempted after tomorrow, right? At least they were light beers so I barely feel a buzz. I should have bought those bottles of wine at the liquor store instead.
I leave through the front door and slowly step down the stairs from my third-floor, one-bedroom apartment and basically crawl to the mailroom. I input the tiny key into the lock, twist, and groan when I see how over-filled my box already is. I’ve only been here for a week and I swear, Hunter has forwarded all of our junk mail to my new address.
I place it all under one arm, lock up the box, and leisurely make my way back up the stairs. I’m sweating, panting, and want to cry from how out of shape I really am. I imagine I look like a right mess, but I just push that out of my mind and thank the stars that none of my neighbors are out to see me in this state.
I haven’t worn clothes with real numbers for sizes in years, so I have no idea how big I really am anymore… My last physical with a doctor was probably after I had Davis… Eighteen years ago. I live in XXXXL yoga pants and the same size for shirts. Something’s got to give. I made sure to wear nice jackets and sweaters over my frumpy clothes… But since I stepped away from our real estate firm over six months ago… I have eaten my feelings and drowned my sorrows in bottles of wine.
I do, or did, love my curves. I’ve always been a curvy and heavier-set woman, but typically my size ranged from twelve to eighteen. I’m nowhere close to size eighteen anymore.
I toss the pile of mail on my table after I finally make it back inside in the kitchen and separate it. Bills, junk, coupons… One stands out that has red stamps all over it, showing it’s been returned to sender several times before it was forwarded to me. Thanks, Hunter. How long has he hid this letter from me and sent it back to… Salem, Massachusetts? I shake my head and rip open the top and see that it’s from a lawyer… Who do I know from there? I frown as I read the elegant, handwritten letter. Apparently, my grandmother left something for me in her will… Why didn’t my mother tell me about that?
Last year she told me the ‘crazy old bat finally croaked’ then started talking about her neighbors and her new husband’s job as a manager for the Phoenix, Arizona basketball team. I zoned out after that and her mother was never spoken about again. Not that I have talked to my mother since then… She calls when someone passes away, when she got remarried, and when someone in the family has a child so she can compare how gorgeous and perfect they already are compared to me.
I never met my grandmother, but from what my mother and the rest of the family declares, she’s been senile and insane since they were kids. After they went off to college, or got married, she moved to the east coast and started a new life. She would show up every time one of them had a child and would just talk nonsense and leave the next day. Nonsense like curses and magic. Like anyone believes in that anymore.
I didn’t even know her name until today. Harriet Volkov.
The letter doesn’t mention anything of importance, just that I should call as soon as possible to set up a meeting with Jeremy Moore in Massachusetts to go over the will. If there was a damn will, did my mother know about this and just didn’t tell me? None of my aunts, nor my uncle, have mentioned anything… Not that I see or talk to them much. Most of them are still in Arizona, close to my mother, but my uncle lives in Connecticut and travels to California for work every few months… I just had dinner with him a few months ago and he didn’t say anything about this.
