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A Second Chance To Save Our Lives Novel Cover

A Second Chance To Save Our Lives

My daughter Jodie died in my arms. The doctor' s words were a death sentence: "Severe neglect. Malnutrition. Multiple internal injuries." But my husband, the famous life coach Julian Maynard, didn't mourn. He issued a public statement. He called Jodie a "challenging child" and twisted her death into a tragedy about mental health, all to enhance his compassionate image. He even publicly forgave the boy who had tormented her, the same boy he brought into our home to teach Jodie "resilience." My own life ended in a fire, a final, violent release from a world of his making. As the flames consumed me, I couldn't understand. How could the man I loved build his legacy on the grave of our daughter and the ruins of my life? Then, I opened my eyes. The divorce papers sat on the table, his signature a stark black stain. It was years earlier. Before the fire. Before Jodie died.
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Chapter 2

Kylie POV:

"Mommy, my ear hurts," Jodie whimpered, clutching the side of her head. Her face was flushed, and a thin sheen of sweat covered her forehead.

"It' s just a scratch, Jodie," Fanny said dismissively, not even looking at her. "Darryl didn't mean anything by it."

Earlier, in the chaotic aftermath of Julian' s publicist' s arrival, Darryl had purposefully tripped Jodie. She'd fallen hard, hitting her head on the edge of a planter. Julian, of course, had been too busy schmoozing to notice.

"It' s not just a scratch, Fanny," I snapped, my voice sharp. "She' s got a lump the size of a golf ball behind her ear. And you promised her a new dress today, remember? For school pictures."

Fanny waved a hand, dismissing my words like bothersome flies. "Oh, that. I forgot. Look, I' m sure Julian will get her one later. Or you can. You' re her mother, after all." She rummaged through a designer handbag. "Here, Jodie. Have this. It' s a designer hair clip. Much better than a dress."

The clip, a sparkly, cheap-looking plastic accessory, glittered mockingly in her hand. Jodie just looked at it, then back at her own worn dress. Her lower lip trembled.

"Fanny, she doesn't want a hair clip," I said, my voice tight with suppressed rage. "She wanted a dress. A new dress. Like Darryl gets every week."

Fanny sighed dramatically. "Look, Kylie, I' m busy. And frankly, your daughter is being very ungrateful. You should be teaching her to appreciate what she has, not to covet what others possess." She gestured around the lavish living room. "We live in luxury! Be thankful!"

My gaze landed on a half-eaten gourmet cupcake, decorated with whimsical sprinkles, lying on the pristine white rug. Darryl' s latest discarded treat. Jodie' s eyes followed mine, a fresh wave of tears welling up.

"You know," Fanny continued, oblivious, or perhaps deliberately cruel, "Julian mentioned he needs someone to organize his next charity gala. It would be excellent exposure for you, Kylie. Re-establish your career. Help you get back on your feet after… well, after everything." She smiled, a saccharine sweet expression that didn't reach her eyes. "You could even stay here, in the guest suite, during the planning. Julian's very forgiving, you know."

My blood ran cold. "Julian has already ensured I have no access to my own funds, Fanny. I can' t even book a taxi without asking him for money." I remembered the empty bank account, the frozen credit cards. Julian' s way of ensuring I remained dependent, powerless. His warped "love."

Fanny' s eyes flickered, a momentary flicker of surprise. She quickly recovered. "Oh, that. Well, he' s probably just trying to teach you responsibility, dear. But I' m sure he' d be happy to give you an allowance if you were working for him. Think of it as a stipend!"

"A stipend for being his unpaid assistant?" I scoffed. "No, thank you. Jodie needs a mother, not a glorified secretary."

Fanny pouted. "Fine. Be difficult. But don't come crying to me when your daughter is still wearing rags." She turned to leave. "Honestly, some people just don't know a good thing when they see it."

I leaned down, pulling Jodie into my arms. Her small body felt feverish. "It's okay, baby. Mommy will make it better."

"Mommy, I'm cold," she whispered, shivering.

I stroked her hair, my gaze falling on the small, portable humidifier in the corner of the room. It was hers, an expensive medical-grade device Julian had bought when she'd had pneumonia last winter. Now, Darryl used it to humidify his exotic pet lizard's terrarium.

I stood up, walking towards it. "Jodie needs this, Fanny. Her breathing sounds labored."

Fanny didn't even turn around. "Oh, that old thing? Darryl's using it for his gecko. It's very important for its ecosystem."

"It's for Jodie!" I yelled, my patience snapping. I lunged for the humidifier, but Fanny' s publicist, who had been lingering, suddenly appeared, blocking my path.

"Ms. Gutierrez, please. Let's not make a scene."

I seethed, my eyes burning into Fanny's retreating back.

Later, as I tried to soothe Jodie in our cramped, makeshift room – the old storage closet Julian had assigned us – the house was filled with the sounds of laughter and music. Darryl and Fanny were hosting a lavish party, celebrating some new "achievement" of Julian's.

Jodie coughed, a dry, hacking sound that tore at my heart. I remembered the humidifier, the one I hadn't been able to retrieve.

A sudden, high-pitched shriek echoed from Darryl' s room. Then, silence. Followed by Fanny' s frantic cries.

"My gecko! My precious Fluffy!"

I heard Julian' s heavy footsteps rushing towards Darryl' s room.

My heart pounded. Please, let it not be…

But I knew. I had lived this before.

I ran to Jodie, her breathing now shallow and ragged. "Baby, are you okay?"

She shook her head, tears streaming down her face. "I can't breathe, Mommy."

Panic seized me. I needed the humidifier. I raced to Darryl' s room, pushing past the concerned party guests.

Julian was there, cradling a lifeless lizard. Fanny was sobbing theatrically. "Darryl left the humidifier on too high! He drowned Fluffy!"

"My humidifier!" I screamed, grabbing the device. It was soaked internally, the wiring clearly fried. "It's broken!"

Julian barely glanced at me. "Kylie, now is not the time. Darryl is distraught."

"Jodie can't breathe, Julian! And your son broke her humidifier!"

"That old humidifier?" Julian scoffed. "I' ll buy her a new one tomorrow. It's hardly a crisis." His tone was dismissive, his eyes fixed on the dead lizard.

I wanted to scream, to lash out. But Jodie's gasps for air brought me back to reality. I needed to get her help.

I tried to start the car, but the engine only sputtered, then died. Someone had tampered with the battery. Julian. It has to be him. He doesn't want me to leave.

I was trapped.

I frantically scrolled through my phone, desperate for a way out. No signal. Julian had probably blocked it.

Then, a flicker. A notification from Instagram. Fanny had just posted a picture: "Darryl's little prank! Oops, looks like someone's jealous of Fluffy! #boyswillbeboys #justkidding"

The picture showed Darryl, a smug look on his face, holding a pair of pliers. Next to him, the dismantled humidifier.

My blood ran cold. It wasn't an accident. It was deliberate.

A wave of nausea washed over me. Julian knew. He had to. He had allowed this. He condoned this.

They want her gone.

Jodie' s whimpers grew fainter. Her small chest heaved. I felt a primal scream rising in my throat.

Finally, the distant wail of sirens. An ambulance. I had managed to send a garbled text to a friend before my phone died completely.

As the paramedics rushed in, a woman in a pristine white coat approached me. "Are you Ms. Gutierrez? I'm Dr. Blake Adams. We received a distress call about a child with respiratory issues."

Her voice was calm, reassuring. A beacon in the swirling chaos.

"Yes, she can't breathe!" I choked out, pointing at Jodie.

The paramedics quickly stabilized Jodie, then turned to me. "Ma'am, we need to take her to the hospital. And there's a matter of payment…"

My heart sank. Julian had emptied our joint account. Control. Always control.

I frantically searched for my wallet. Empty. I had no cash, no cards.

"I… I don't have it right now," I stammered, my voice trembling. "My husband… he handles all the finances."

Dr. Adams's eyes narrowed. She glanced at the commotion around Julian, who was now dramatically mourning his son's lizard.

"Don't worry, Ms. Gutierrez," she said, her voice firm. "We'll figure it out. Your daughter's health is the priority."

As they wheeled Jodie away, I saw Julian on his phone, oblivious. I tried to call him, but the line was dead.

A moment later, a notification popped up on my phone, before it completely shut down: a news alert. Julian had just posted a picture of himself and Fanny, laughing over champagne. "Celebrating a new chapter! Onwards and upwards!"

The world blurred. He knew. He had to know. And he didn't care.

"Julian," I whispered, a silent vow escaping my lips. "You will pay for this."

Dr. Adams, seeing my distress, placed a comforting hand on my arm. "Come on, Ms. Gutierrez. Let's get you to the hospital. Your daughter needs you."

I looked at her, a stranger, a kind face in a sea of indifference. "Thank you," I choked out, tears finally streaming down my face.

"Don't thank me," she said, her eyes filled with a quiet determination. "Let's just focus on Jodie."

At the hospital, the nurses presented me with a formidable bill. "Ma'am, we need immediate payment for the emergency admission and treatment."

I stared at the numbers, my mind reeling. I had nothing. Julian had ensured I had nothing.

I tried to call him again, but still no response. I scrolled through his social media, a terrible premonition settling in my gut. Sure enough, a new post: "Private jet life! Off to a much-needed retreat with my beloved Fanny and Darryl. #blessed #selfcare"

He had blocked me. He had left us to die.

A cold, hard knot formed in my stomach. This was it. This was the moment everything changed.

"Please," I begged the nurse, "Is there anything… I can do? I'll do anything."

The nurse, a young woman with a kind face, looked at me with pity. "Ma'am, I'm sorry. Hospital policy."

Just then, Dr. Adams reappeared. "Is there a problem here?"

"Ms. Gutierrez can't cover the upfront costs, Doctor," the nurse explained.

Dr. Adams' s gaze hardened. She looked at me, then back at the nurse. "Put it on my account."

My head snapped up. "What?"

"I said, put it on my account," she repeated, her voice leaving no room for argument. "Jodie's care comes first."

Tears streamed down my face. "But… why?"

She gave me a small, sad smile. "Because sometimes, Kylie, you just have to do the right thing."

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