THE BATTALION SON IN LAW

Max Sterling opened his eyes, his heart hammering against his ribs as the familiar weight of silk sheets pressed against his skin. The grandfather clock in the hallway chimed seven times—the same seven chimes he'd heard eleven years ago on this very day.

This is impossible. The thought crashed through his mind like a freight train. I died. I remember dying.

"Well, well, look who finally decided to grace us with his presence," Alex Hamilton's voice cut through the morning stillness like a blade. Max's brother-in-law stood in the doorway, his perfectly pressed suit immaculate despite the early hour. "Did you have sweet dreams, brother?"

Max sat up slowly, every muscle in his body tense. He remembered this conversation—remembered the way Alex's eyes had gleamed with hidden malice, the way his smile never quite reached his eyes.

"Good morning, Alex," Max replied carefully, studying his brother-in-law's face. "You're up early."

"Someone has to take care of business while you sleep the day away," Alex sneered, his lips curling into that familiar, condescending smirk. "Rebecca's been asking for you. Something about your anniversary breakfast. How touching."

The venom in Alex's voice was barely concealed, just as Max remembered. But this time, he wouldn't be caught off guard.

"Where is she?" Max asked, swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

"Kitchen, playing the dutiful wife," Alex laughed, a harsh sound that echoed off the walls. "Though we both know how long that charade will last, don't we? She'll be back to her old ways soon enough—spending your money, ignoring your existence, making you look like the fool you are."

Max's jaw clenched, but he forced himself to remain calm. He's baiting me. Just like before.

"I'll go see her," Max said, standing and reaching for his robe.

"Oh, by the way," Alex called out as Max headed toward the door, "I had the staff prepare something special for your anniversary. A beautiful bouquet and a cake Rebecca will never forget. Consider it my gift to you both."

The bouquet. The poisoned flowers that had sent Rebecca to the hospital. The drugged cake that had left Max vulnerable to Alex's final trap.

"How thoughtful of you," Max replied, his voice steady despite the rage building in his chest.

Downstairs, the kitchen was filled with the warm scent of coffee and bacon. Rebecca stood at the stove, her dark hair pulled back in a simple ponytail, wearing the blue dress he'd once loved. She looked younger somehow, softer than the bitter woman she'd become in their final years.

"Max?" Her voice was uncertain, almost shy. "I... I made breakfast. Like we used to."

"It smells wonderful," Max said, and meant it. He watched as she plated the eggs, her movements graceful and familiar. When did we stop doing this? When did everything go so wrong?

"I wasn't sure you'd remember," Rebecca murmured, not meeting his eyes. "Our anniversary, I mean. You've been so... distant lately."

"I remember everything," Max said quietly, accepting the plate she offered him. Their fingers brushed, and he felt her slight tremor.

They ate in comfortable silence until Alex's voice boomed from the dining room.

"Rebecca! Come see what I've arranged for you!"

Rebecca's face immediately tensed, the softness disappearing like morning mist. "I should go see what he wants," she said, starting to rise.

"Wait," Max caught her wrist gently. "Let's finish breakfast first. Just us."

Her eyes widened in surprise, and for a moment, he saw a glimpse of the woman he'd fallen in love with years ago.

"Max, what's gotten into you?" she whispered.

Before he could answer, Alex appeared in the kitchen doorway, his face twisted with impatience.

"Didn't you hear me calling? I have a surprise for you both," Alex's voice dripped with false cheer. "A gorgeous bouquet of lilies—Rebecca's favorites—and the most exquisite chocolate cake you've ever seen."

"How considerate," Max said, standing slowly. "But I think we'll pass on the flowers today. Rebecca's been sneezing quite a bit lately. Allergies, you know."

Alex's smile faltered for just a moment—so brief that Rebecca missed it entirely. But Max caught it, that flash of irritation that confirmed his suspicions.

"Nonsense," Alex recovered quickly. "These are special lilies. Imported. They won't cause any problems."

"I insist," Max's voice carried a steel edge. "In fact, why don't you take them to your own wife? I'm sure she'd appreciate the gesture."

The two men stared at each other across the kitchen, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Rebecca looked between them, confusion clear on her face.

"What's going on?" she asked softly.

"Nothing, darling," Alex said through gritted teeth. "Just brotherly concern."

That evening, as the Texas sun painted the sky in shades of amber and gold, Max and Rebecca sat on the back porch swing. The crystal chandelier that should have fallen remained securely fastened above—Max had quietly reinforced its mounting that afternoon.

"The stars are beautiful tonight," Rebecca said, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Yes, they are." Max turned to look at her profile, illuminated by the dying light. This is it. This is where everything changes.

"Rebecca," he began, his heart pounding. "I want a divorce."