Page 33 of My Husband’s New Fiancée

Because that’s exactly what I intend to do.

Find everyone responsible and make them pay.

Silence stretches between us.

Then, very quietly, almost against his own will, he asks:

“Did you ever love me?”

The question nearly destroys me.

How can he even ask that? How can he doubt what we had together?

Then another thought cuts through me.

Why does it matter to him so much? Could a part of him still love me? Is there still hope for us?

Then I remember.

“How long after the ink dried on my death certificate did you end up in my best friend’s bed?”

He doesn’t answer. And his silence kills me.

“That’s what I thought.”

Something flashes through his eyes. Pain. Regret. I can’t tell which.

But he pulls himself together almost immediately.

“I never would’ve disappeared without warning you,” he says defensively.

Then he turns away, his voice colder now.

“You’ll get what you want. My lawyers would probably advise me to contest your claim.”

He pauses, as though carefully weighing every word.

“But I won’t. I’ve wasted enough time on all of this already.”

The implication doesn’t escape me.

“I have a funding round to close, a company to run, and a public legal war with my dead wife returning from the grave would send a very bad signal.”

He keeps staring out over the skyline.

“You’ll get your lab back as soon as the court signs off.”

Then he pivots toward me.

His gaze locks onto mine. His voice hardens.

“But you came back too early, Valeria. A few more days and the dilution would’ve gone through. The valuation would’ve skyrocketed. You could’ve walked away with an obscene check.”

Silence.

“Now everything’s frozen. Worse—you heard Wald.”

A humorless smile touches his mouth.