Page 51 of My Husband’s New Fiancée

I can’t hear the person on the other end.

“It’s started,” she says from the other side of the door.

So she isn’t acting alone.

“Thank you,” she adds before hanging up.

Cold rage rises inside me.

But beneath the rage, there’s something else.

Something even more devastating.

Pain.

She vanished for two years.

Then she came back with a lawyer, a security team... and a plan.

The woman I loved more than anything didn’t return for me.

She came back to steal data from my company.

Maybe I never really knew her at all.

I stare at the screen as the progress bar advances.

7%.

I let her continue.

For now.

Because I want to see how far she’s willing to go.

And because while she destroys whatever remains between us, I’m mourning the woman I loved for the second time.

The first time, I grieved a dead woman.

This time, I’m grieving a stranger.

I watch her sweat. Her hand trembles slightly. She keeps glancing toward the door, as though expecting someone to burst in at any moment.

Then she stands, takes a deep breath, and walks toward the bathroom.

My heartbeat quickens.

On impulse, I silently unlock the door and lean back against the sink.

I hear her hand on the handle.

The moment she opens the door, she startles violently. A strangled gasp escapes her.

For an instant, neither of us speaks.

We just stare at each other.

And it feels as though two years collapse all at once.