On his deathbed, my husband said I ruined his life. He said if I hadn't stopped him from running off with his first love, he would have been a rich man. So when I woke up — twenty years old again — I didn't stop him. I handed him the family recipe, tore up our marriage contract, and said: "Go. Be free." Then I watched. Coldly. Silently. As he destroyed himself. Step by step. Exactly as I knew he would
