Page 9 of My Husband’s New Fiancée

What remains is colder. Sharper. Almost entertained.

Like she’s finally done pretending.

I turn slowly to face her.

For a second, I search her expression for something familiar. Regret. Guilt. Anything.

There’s nothing.

The girl I loved like a sister never existed.

Maybe she never had.

“What do you want, Bianca?” I ask quietly. “To try killing me again?”

She laughs—a light, almost affectionate sound, as though I’d said something charming. But something flashes through her eyes immediately afterward.

Not shame. Annoyance.

She walks to the mirror beside me and pulls a lipstick from her clutch with deliberate calm. The sapphire on her left hand catches the light.

My stomach twists.

Dante chose a sapphire for her too.

“Don’t be dramatic,” she says, applying the lipstick carefully. “I had nothing to do with your disappearance.”

“Funny. That’s not how I remember it.”

Our eyes meet through the mirror. Hers slide away first.

She caps the lipstick slowly before turning toward me.

“Why did you come back?” she asks at last. “Why now?”

I smile mockingly.

The silence unsettles her more than any answer could.

I see the exact moment doubt creeps in.

“You’re bluffing,” she says quickly. “You have nothing.”

Then, after a beat:

“And even if you did, who do you think Dante would believe?”

My pulse stutters painfully.

Not a confession. Close enough.

“I heard your conversation,” she continues. “Every word.”

I force myself not to react.

Bianca steps closer, studying me carefully.

“You really think he’d come back to you after what you did to him?”