Page 112 of My Husband’s New Fiancée

I’m not sure.

But we’ve already lost so much time, and life is so short.

If something were to happen to me tomorrow, I don’t want to have any regrets.

So be it if having him here hurts as much as it heals.

As I slip beneath the hot water, images of him invade my mind.

His perfect body. His skin against mine. His hands on me. His mouth consuming me.

I miss his touch. His absence has become almost physically painful.

Part of me wants to go to him...

But my heart resists.

The memory of Bianca lingers stubbornly, like a shadow refusing to fade.

I need time.

Time to accept how close I came to losing him.

Time to accept that he chose me and called off his wedding before even learning the full truth about her involvement.

When I step into the living room, the spicy scent of Thai food has already filled the space. Dante is sitting between Mara and Stephen, helping them unpack the takeout containers with disarming ease—as though he has always belonged here, part of this place, part of this team.

The moment he sees me, his expression brightens. Without interrupting his sentence, he smoothly pulls out the chair beside him in an almost instinctive gesture. That mix of natural presence and quiet protectiveness affects me more than I want to admit.

I sit down, and he immediately starts filling my plate. His movements are calm, attentive—every gesture charged with a silent intimacy that doesn’t escape Mara and Stephen. I catch their amused looks, but I’m too busy dealing with my own emotions: the warmth of his shoulder against mine, the brush of his hand when he passes me a glass.

The quiet is broken by the buzz of a phone on the table.

Andrea.

Dante switches on the speakerphone. In an instant, his voice becomes that of the CEO again.

“We’re listening.”

“Good evening, everyone. So, you’re throwing a party without me?”

Smiles spread around the table.

“I’ve got two pieces of news. Which one do you want first?”

Dante lets out a mock-exasperated sigh.

“The good one,” Stephen replies, waving a fork in the air.

“What flawless instincts. A real bloodhound, that Stephen.”

I let out a small laugh.

“The trackers have been activated,” Andrea continues, suddenly more serious. “And guess what? The logs lead directly to a Ciphera Corp subsidiary.”

Silence settles around the table. Dante doesn’t look surprised, but his eyes harden.

“We extracted everything from the servers: precise timestamps, internal transfers, IP addresses. It’s legally actionable. The digital traces are solid enough to establish attempted intrusion.”