The ground was wet. Cold.

But Carter Marshall couldn't bring himself to move, to walk away. He clutched the weathered copper ornament in his hands. It was the only thing he had left of his old life, the only tangible reminder that they both existed. Everything else was gone, charred beyond repair.

"I'm not sure how to do this," he mumbled to himself. He knew he had to let the anger go now. It had consumed him, filled him to capacity and pushed him to keep going. He wondered what would take its place, or if he'd even be able to let go of the hate he had in his heart for the man who had taken away everything.

The rain pounded on his head, drizzled down his face. It had been an hour since he'd arrived, but he couldn't bring himself to complete his task. Instead, he'd sat there, his expensive Tom Ford suit soaked and his Cole Haan shoes muddy. Nothing mattered anymore. Not his wealth, not his name, not his work. Everything that he'd once held dear seemed like a curse now.

"I'm sorry," he muttered. "I'm sorry I wasn't there. I was too obsessed with work, too driven, too focused on my damn money. I thought if I just worked hard enough, I could give you the life you deserved. I only wanted to make you happy."

His eyes welled with fresh tears. As if he hadn't cried enough already. The loss of his beautiful wife and daughter had devastated him to his core, weakened him. Even now, almost two years later, he could still smell the gasoline, taste the smoke in the air, hear the screams of the neighbors as the fire burned. He recalled the determination on the firemen's faces as they worked to put the blaze out, and he remembered the exact moment they all realized that it was too late.

You're the best part of my day, my hero.

Her words still haunted him. Her hero. His wife of three years, his college sweetheart, had told him he was her hero. Only he didn't feel heroic. What was the opposite of hero? Coward. Loser. Nobody.

Instead of being home with his wife and newborn daughter, he'd been working. Late. It seemed his work had eclipsed everything in his life, despite his denials. Krys had told him time and time again to live a little, to enjoy life. But the lure of the prestige, the money, the connections that his business guaranteed was important to him. He'd worked too hard, too long to let it go. He'd been distracted, meetings all day and projects to finish. When the phone rang, he'd moved it to voicemail with a little text that said, Give me a minute.

To think that was the last thing Krys heard from him ... He'd been so busy he couldn't even pick up the phone and answer. Was she scared? According to the arson investigators, the fire had started around seven o'clock. The call from her came through a little after seven. What if that one phone call could have changed something? Countless hours in therapy, numerous assurances that he couldn't have known, did nothing to quell the guilt he felt every time he looked at her response to his text. The worse part was that he hadn't even seen her response until hours later, after he'd been ushered from the scene of the crime. It read, I love you. Always remember.

Even in her last minutes, she'd been thinking of him. And he'd been thinking of his next project, his next dollar. What good is all the money in the world without her, without them?

Closing his eyes, he willed himself to move, to do what he came to do.

He scanned the area around him. It was their spot. Krys had insisted they visit as often as possible since it was the place where he'd proposed.

Today would have been their wedding anniversary. Remembering her beautiful face on the day he made her his wife made his heart ache. Krys was beautiful, in a classic "Clair Huxtable" kind of way. She was a good woman, believed that taking care of the home, being a wife and mother was the best job in the world. They'd been so young, so full of hope.

People had questioned him about the choice to marry so soon after college graduation, for even being with the same woman for so long. Even his best friend and business partner, Martin Sullivan, had been wary. And he'd known Krys for as long as he'd known Martin. Carter couldn't explain it, though. He wasn't an impulsive person. Everything Carter had done in life had been carefully planned. It was the reason he and Martin had been so successful. Neither of them played around when it came to business.

Marrying Krys, though, was his destiny. At least, he'd thought so at the time. She'd supported him through some of the worst times of his life — the death of his youngest sister and his grandmother and his parents' subsequent divorce. Krys never wavered, never wanted him to be anybody but himself. She'd never complained when he traveled for work or forgot to take the trash out. She was perfect, and he didn't deserve her. He'd broken the promise to love and to cherish, to have her and to honor her. If he had, he would have answered her call. He should have been there. Especially since she'd always been there for him. Krys had given him the best gift he could ever have — her heart, her body, her soul. He'd promised to protect her, to be there for her. Except I wasn't, not when she needed me the most.

Time hadn't made this wound better, hadn't healed him like they told him it would. He'd started to resent them — his parents, his friends, his employees ... everyone. The questions were becoming unbearable. The sad looks infuriated him. Most of all, when people told him It will be okay, he wanted to slap them. Because he was not okay, and wasn't sure he would ever be okay again. He knew he had to try, though. For them. For Krys and for his baby girl, Chloe.

Carter closed his eyes and inhaled the wet, night air. It was too late to be the father Chloe needed. She wasn't even a year old. He'd never heard her say "Da Da" or had the pleasure of watching her toddle into his waiting arms for the first time. It's not fair.

The tears fell freely down his cheeks and his stomach lurched into his chest. I failed. Carter looked down at the glass Christmas ornament in his hand. It was shaped like a heart, personalized with their names and their wedding date. Krys had purchased it for their first Christmas as a married couple. Sighing heavily, Carter dropped the ornament into the small hole he'd dug, next to the tree where he'd dropped on one knee and proposed to his first love, his only love.

"I made them pay, Krys."

Within days after the fire, the Detroit Police Department had arrested the young men that were responsible. But pressure from city officials had them backtracking on the investigation. Of course they did, because one of the men, the main culprit, was the college-aged son of one of the most influential business owners in the city.

The McKnight family was well-known in the Detroit area. Carter had effectively launched a smear campaign, blasted them on every social media site. Through his own computer skills and those of his partner, they'd crippled the McKnight business. Revenge was best served with a depleted bank account. A guilty verdict wasn't enough for him. He'd just been awarded a settlement in the civil lawsuit he'd brought against the city and the family for hampering the investigation.

Money wasn't his motive, though. He wanted them to lose everything, just like he had. Those young men had destroyed his life on a whim, because of a bet. They'd targeted his house because...