And as Jaya stirred in her crib, farting softly like a tired balloon, I knew I had something he didn’t.
A second chance.
He could have my empire. For now. He could take the buildings and the bank accounts. But I had rage, survival skills, and a three-baby army that feared nothing—not even floor poop.
Tomorrow, I will start planning. Because this wasn’t just Catherine’s body anymore.
This was my war paint.
And I was about to launch Operation: Petty Resurrection.
*****
It was a Friday morning when I woke up with a plan. The kids were at school. Jaya was drooling on a piece of crayon like it owed her money. And I? I was a man on a mission. Trapped in a woman’s overly sensitive, constantly aching, gravity-loving body—but still a man with purpose.
We needed a car.
Not just for errands.
