Page 165 of What Comes Around

In my previous life I went back to Chicago as usual. My life continued the same way it always had. I had one‑night stands with different women, and a few months later Apple reappeared. She always managed to be where I was, always came over to talk. If nothing better was available, we hooked up.

When she told me she was pregnant, I didn’t believe her. I always used protection. Always.

I had no interest in settling down and no feelings for her. But the DNA test came back positive. Apple was carrying my child. Condoms aren’t perfect, so I assumed it was an unfortunate failure.

It happens.

My father had left my mother when I was a small child, and I had watched her struggle. I didn’t want that for my kid, so I married Apple for the sake of the baby.

The biggest mistake of my life.

Even before the wedding, something felt off. Titan never liked her.

He was trained, disciplined, never reactive without reason, but around Apple he would go still, his body rigid, a low warning rumble building in his chest, his eyes tracking her like he was waiting for something.

Apple hated him for it. Called him aggressive. Unpredictable. Said he made her uncomfortable. The feeling was mutual.

I should have trusted him.

After the wedding, she moved into the penthouse, and a week later Titan got sick. It came out of nowhere. One day he was fine, the next he wouldn’t eat, then he could barely stand. I had him at the best veterinary clinic in the city within hours. Specialists, tests, everything money could buy. They found nothing. No clear cause. No explanation. Just a rapid decline none of them could stop.

He died three days later.

I had him since he was a pup. Raised him. Trained him. Trusted him more than most people. Losing him felt like losing a part of myself. I remember standing in that sterile room after they told me it was over, my hand still resting on his head, waiting for him to move. He didn’t.

And Apple…

She cried. Loud. Dramatic. Made a show of it. But she never went near him while he was sick. Never touched him. I asked her once if she had done something. Her reaction was explosive. Tears, accusations, outrage. How could I even think that.

There was no proof, nothing I could point to, and she was carrying my child, so I let it go.

Looking back, that was the point where I should have started paying more attention. But I didn’t.

We had an ironclad prenup in place before the wedding. At the time, it felt like a precaution. Something clean. Controlled.

It didn’t matter.

Apple couldn’t keep up the act for long. The delicate flower she pretended to be turned out to be a vicious carnivorous plant.

Still, I tried to make it work, especially after my son was born. For a while, it did. I ignored what I didn’t want to see. Let her spend my money like it had no limit, told myself it was easier that way.

But when she wasn’t pretending to be someone else, she was unbearable.

So I stopped being around her. Spent more time at work. Told myself I was providing for them, giving them a comfortable life.

Another mistake.

I let Apple raise my son almost entirely on her own because I was always working, avoiding her. But by avoiding her, I avoided Aron too.

I don’t know when it happened, but over the years my sweet little boy, the one who used to toddle toward me when I came home, turned into a bitter, self‑centered kid.

When I finally noticed, I tried to be more present. He was my son, my flesh and blood. I couldn’t give up on him. I dug my heels in and tried, but it was too late. He had become a copy of his mother. Self‑centered, entitled, cruel.

Instead of nurturing him, she had molded him into a replica of herself, something I didn’t recognize until it was too late.

I know now I handled everything wrong.

For the first few years I was faithful to Apple. I didn’t love her, but we were married and had a child. I tried to do the right thing.