Page 19 of My Husband’s New Fiancée

Meals that stretched for hours. Conversations going in every direction. Endless card games full of cheating and laughter—none of us respected the rules. Amelia, my mother-in-law, taught me how to cheat. We used to pass cards beneath the table while Dante’s hand rested on my thigh.

From the very beginning, Amelia and Vadim welcomed me like someone who already belonged there.

When my parents died in the car accident, they were there for me without hesitation or conditions.

They became my family.

Andrea too—that substitute older brother who had called me brainiac for years before defending me with deeply offended seriousness anytime someone dared come after me.

No matter the state of my relationship with Dante, they deserve an explanation.

That’s what brings me to their gates after leaving the police station.

Bastien opens the gate the moment I announce myself through the intercom. The car rolls up the gravel driveway.

I step out.

Stephen hangs back.

Amelia is already standing on the front steps.

She walks down slowly, as though afraid the slightest sudden movement might make me disappear, then stops in front of me.

I see an old fear in her eyes.

The fear of someone who already buried a loved one once.

“My God… it’s really you.”

Her voice breaks.

And something inside me gives way.

We cling to each other with nearly desperate force. Her fingers grip tightly at my coat.

“It’s really you.”

When we finally pull apart, she still doesn’t let go of my hand.

Vadim takes her place. He says nothing. He simply pulls me into his arms for a long time.

And suddenly, I feel Dante’s absence like a phantom limb.

He should be here.

But he isn’t.

We settle into the small sitting room.

Nothing has changed: the oil-painted landscapes in gilded frames, the Louis XV furniture, the soft light pouring through the tall windows overlooking the grounds.

The tea has already been served.

I take a sip to steady myself.

“Where were you?” Vadim asks quietly.

The porcelain lightly clinks against the saucer. I immediately set my cup down. They don’t need to see how deeply such a simple question unsettles me.