Too Late For Regret, Mr. Carlisle

Avery's consciousness plunged through an endless, silent darkness, the feeling of the steering wheel against her chest a phantom pressure. Then, a sudden, jarring noise. Cheering. Laughter. The tinkling of a piano.

Her eyes flew open.

She was sitting up, gasping for air as if she'd just been pulled from underwater. The phantom pain in her chest was so real she clutched at it, her fingers finding not blood-soaked fabric, but the smooth, cool silk of a cocktail dress.

She wasn't in a car.

She was on a plush, white leather sofa in a room glittering with crystal and gold. The vast windows showcased a panoramic view of the Manhattan skyline at dusk. Their penthouse. The Carlisle penthouse on the Upper East Side.

Her head whipped around. The room was filled with New York's high society, champagne flutes in hand. And there, in the center of the room, was her son, Leo, his face alight with excitement. He looked... small. So small.

He was wearing a party hat.

Avery's gaze fell to her own hands. They were clean. Unscarred. Manicured. No blood. No broken glass. A wave of vertigo washed over her, so intense she thought she would be sick.

This wasn't real. It couldn't be.

Then she saw her.

Celine Cortez, a vision in pale pink, was pushing a three-tiered cake on a silver trolley. She wore a gentle, beatific smile, the same one she always used when she was about to twist the knife.

And Avery remembered.

The dress. The party. Leo's face.

This was Leo's fifth birthday party. Three years ago.

The memory hit her with the force of a physical impact. The cake. That beautiful, elaborate cake that Celine had "lovingly baked herself."

It was full of crushed macadamia nuts.

Leo was deathly allergic to macadamia nuts.

In her previous life, a tiny piece had fallen onto his plate. He'd eaten it before she could stop him. The frantic rush to the hospital, the terrifying hours in the ER... Bennett had blamed her for not watching him closely enough. Celine had cried, claiming she had no idea about the allergy, even though Avery had told her a dozen times.

The memory of the car crash-the cold, the blood, the finality of it-was still screaming in her veins. The two realities, past and present, collided in her mind. This time, there would be no trip to the ER. This time, she knew.

"Make a wish, sweetie!" Celine cooed, as Bennett moved to her side, a proud smile on his face as he helped her light the five small candles. He was completely oblivious, charmed by the snake he'd invited into their home.

No.

The word was a silent scream in her soul.

Avery shot up from the sofa. The room swam for a second, but she pushed through it, her entire being focused on one goal. She moved through the crowd, ignoring the surprised looks and muttered greetings.

Celine picked up the silver cake knife.

"Don't!"

The word ripped from Avery's throat, raw and desperate. She lunged forward, her hand clamping over Celine's, snatching the knife away. The polished blade was cold against her skin.

The room fell silent. The piano music stopped.

"There are nuts in this cake," Avery said, her voice shaking but clear. "He can't eat it."

Celine's eyes immediately welled with tears. She shrank back, a perfect picture of wounded innocence. "Avery, what are you talking about? I would never..."

"You're making a scene." The voice belonged to Eleanor Carlisle, Bennett's mother. She stood nearby, her face a mask of disapproval, her lips pursed into a thin, judgmental line. "You're ruining your own son's birthday party just to embarrass Celine."

Bennett's hand gripped Avery's wrist, his fingers digging into her skin. His eyes were chips of ice. "What the hell do you think you're doing? Apologize to Celine. Now."

He was defending her. Again.

"I'm not jealous," Avery said, her voice dropping to a low, dangerous calm. She looked directly at Bennett. "I'm trying to stop you from poisoning our son."

Celine let out a choked sob, hiding her face in her hands. "I'm so sorry, everyone," she whispered to the assembled guests. "I don't know what I did to make her hate me so much."

The crowd murmured in sympathy. For Celine. Avery was the villain, the hysterical, jealous wife. She felt their judgment like a physical weight, pressing down on her.

She looked at Bennett, at the man she had died for. He was looking at her with pure disgust. The love she once thought she saw in his eyes was a cold, empty void.

Then, the final blow.

A small figure tugged on Bennett's pant leg. It was Leo. He was hiding behind his father, peering out at her with wide, fearful eyes.

"I hate you, Mommy!" he shouted, his little voice piercing the silence. "Stop being mean to Auntie Celine!"

The words struck her with the force of a physical slap. The last vestiges of warmth in her chest turned to ash. The desperate, pleading woman who had died in a blizzard was gone. In her place was something hard and cold and sharp.

She let go of the knife. It clattered onto the silver platter with a deafening noise.

She took a deep breath, the one her therapist had taught her to use during Bennett's cold spells. Inhale strength. Exhale weakness.

"Fine," she said, her voice devoid of all emotion. She stepped back from the cake. "Feed it to him."

Bennett stared at her, momentarily thrown by her sudden capitulation. To prove her wrong, to reassert his authority, he took the knife, cut a large slice of the cake, and placed it on a small plate.

"Here you go, champ," he said, holding it out to Leo.

Avery didn't watch. Her eyes scanned the room, landing on a familiar object in a dim corner: a magnificent antique grandfather clock from the Glenn family estate. It had been her wedding gift to Bennett, a piece of her heritage. He had relegated it to a dark corner, a forgotten relic. Just like her.

A wave of nausea rose in her throat. This house, this family, this life-it was all a lie. A beautifully decorated prison.

Eleanor was still muttering about Avery's lack of breeding. Avery turned her head and gave her mother-in-law a slow, deliberate smile. It was a smile that didn't reach her eyes. A smile that felt like broken glass. Eleanor flinched, taken aback by the open defiance.

Avery knew there was an EpiPen in her purse. She knew the hospital was ten blocks away. Leo would live.

But she wouldn't. Not here. Not anymore.

She turned her back on them all. On her son reaching for the poisoned cake. On her husband's blind arrogance. On Celine's triumphant, tear-stained face.

Ignoring Bennett's angry hiss of her name, she walked out of the living room and down the long, silent corridor toward the master bedroom.

She was going to end this. All of it.