Page 75 of My Husband’s New Fiancée

“She looked at me like I was a stranger.”

“She came back from hell, Dante. Attempted murder. A coma. Memory loss... She had to rebuild herself without you, maybe believing you had replaced her.”

Every word lands exactly where it should.

“She’ll forgive you,” my mother continues gently. “Not tonight. Maybe not tomorrow. But if you show her you can do better... that you won’t repeat the same mistakes...”

Her voice grows firmer.

“A love like yours doesn’t disappear. It survives worse. Sometimes it breaks. But it doesn’t die that easily.”

I swallow the emotion choking me.

“And what if I lose everything? Bianca... and Valeria.”

She gives me a sad smile.

“Then you’ll lose everything while still being true to yourself. And believe me, that’s always less destructive than living a lie.”

Silence settles again.

The fire crackles softly in the fireplace.

And for the first time in years, I feel the truth taking shape inside me.

Terrifying.

Inevitable.

20. He Moved On

Valeria

Inspector Sanders joins us at the manor around six-thirty that evening.

“I have news,” he announces as he takes a seat at the table across from Stephen, Mara, and me. “The investigating judge approved your complaint and authorized the opening of a formal inquiry for premeditated attempted murder. Ms. Fabre’s phone is now under surveillance.”

He pauses before turning toward me. His expression is direct, almost grim.

“We owe you an apology. I reviewed the fire investigation file. My predecessor handled the case with a level of carelessness I still can’t explain. He ruled it an accident… even though the mandatory technical report was far less conclusive.”

I frown, a dull tension already creeping into my chest.

“What do you mean?”

“The report states that the main door and that entire section of the room had been completely destroyed by the fire.”

His words barely register before everything shifts.

And suddenly, I’m there again. Back in that kitchen. The man holding me captive. The syringe in his hand. Bianca watching without intervening. And that cold, absolute certainty:

I wasn’t going to make it out alive.

A hand closes gently around mine—soft, steady, real.

It pulls me out of the nightmare before I can drown in it.

I turn toward Mara, unable to speak for a second.