Reborn From Oblivion

Nathalie nearly choked on her toast. The issue at hand was Greta, and the second wife was always more likely to be caught off guard. Sure enough, by lunchtime, Greta showed up with a stack of papers, asking Lincoln to sign and stamp them.

Lincoln, busy attending to his daughter, didn't bother to check the documents closely and signed them absentmindedly. The twinkle in Greta's eyes betrayed her real intentions.

Just when Greta was about to take the documents away, Nathalie suddenly stopped her. "Hey, sis, leave those here. I'll take a look at them tonight."

Greta tried to brush it off, "You look a bit off today. These papers aren't really important, don't stress over them."

Lincoln, worried about Nathalie, added, "Vivian, you should rest. Greta's got it covered. Nothing's going to go wrong."

But Nathalie was firm, "Dad..."noveldrama

Lincoln gave in right away, "Alright, Greta, if your sister wants to see them, leave them here."

Greta had no choice but to leave, clearly displeased.

Once she was gone, Nathalie turned to Lincoln, "Dad, why do you trust her so much?"

It seemed out of character for someone with Lincoln's smarts.

He explained, "Her mom was there for you when you were little. You kind of stepped into the love that was meant just for Greta. So, I try to show her some extra love to make up for that."

Nathalie looked distant but didn't say anything more.

After a long pause, Lincoln heard his daughter's determined voice, "What if I don't want you to love her?"

Lincoln was momentarily surprised but then burst out laughing, "Haha, no one is more important to me than you, my daughter. If you're feeling jealous, Vivian, I'll pull back my affection for Greta. I don't want you to be unhappy."

Nathalie smiled softly.

"But, Vivian, jealousy isn't really your style. Why do you dislike Greta being close to me?"

Nathalie came right out with it, "I just don't like her."

Lincoln was taken aback by the sudden flash of animosity in Nathalie's eyes, which sent a chill through him. He realized he might have missed something important.

Prison nights were duller and more tedious than anywhere else. In this place, everyone had to strip away their identities, reduced to a raw version of themselves, just a number.

No. 13 lay on his bed, tossing and turning, unable to sleep.

"Hey, buddy, why are you so restless tonight? It's late, you should get some shut- eye."

No. 13 unexpectedly spoke up, "Are you a doctor?"

"Yeah. Got thrown in here for taking big-time bribes." "Depression, can it be treated?"

"Depends on what caused it and how severe it is. But no matter what, depression's stubborn and loves to come back. Especially if someone's been through major trauma and can't shake it off, with suicidal thoughts. Plenty of folks end up with split personalities."

No. 13 sat up suddenly, gasping for air.

"What's up? Don't tell me you're depressed."

"I'm not," No. 13 said, his voice heavy with regret, "but I'm the reason."

"With a face like yours, I bet a lot of girls are down because they can't have you."

"How do I help her?" No. 13 reached out, grabbing the other guy's collar in frustration.

"Let me go first. To help her, you need to give her hope."

No. 13 released him and flopped back onto the bed, feeling the weight of it all.