Page 1 of My Husband’s New Fiancée

1. I’m Not Dead Yet

Valeria

Friday, December 16

The first time I see him again after being declared dead, he’s behind the wheel of a Lamborghini.

The black-and-orange car glides to a stop outside the Hôtel de Crillon, engine humming softly beneath the golden glow of the square.

Parked a short distance from the entrance, I stare at the man behind the wheel.

Dante Ivanov.

My breath catches.

The driver’s door swings open.

He steps out with the same effortless confidence I remember—six-foot-one and all brutal elegance in a midnight-blue three-piece suit. Broad shoulders shift beneath the tailored fabric as he shuts the door behind him.

His left hand—the one that used to wear my wedding ring—tosses the keys to the valet without a glance.

He looks the same.

Except he doesn’t.

I see it in the harder line of his mouth. In the cold distance in his eyes. In the way he moves now, like the world stopped being capable of hurting him a long time ago.

Something in him died.

The part that loved me.

My vision blurs for a second. I swallow hard before the tears can rise.

Then he opens the passenger door.

My stomach tightens.

Because I already know who’s about to step out.

Dante smiles at her. Slow. Intimate. The kind of smile that used to melt me from the inside out. Once, it belonged to me. Now it belongs to the woman he’s going to marry.

My grip tightens around the steering wheel.

I tear my eyes away from Dante and look at her.

Bianca Fabre.

Soon to be Bianca Ivanov, if the engagement announcements already circulating online are anything to go by.

My best friend.

The woman who tried to kill me.

Her manicured fingers settle over Dante’s hand as she steps gracefully from the car, wrapped in cashmere and champagne silk. Dark waves spill over her shoulders.

She leans toward him and whispers something in his ear.

He laughs quietly.