Chapter 1: The Woman He Buried Alive
Chapter 1: The Woman He Buried Alive
"He told everyone you died six months ago."
The maid's words echoed through my mind louder than the laughter coming from the ballroom.
"What... did you say?"
She looked over her shoulder nervously before lowering her voice.
"Everyone here believes Mr. Julian Vance lost his wife in a tragic car accident. They held a memorial dinner. They donated money in your name."
My knees nearly gave out.
"He cried in front of everyone," she continued. "People admired him for surviving such a terrible loss."
I stared at her, unable to breathe.
While I had been mourning my father...
My husband had been accepting condolences for my death.
The maid reached into her apron and pulled out her phone.
"I shouldn't be doing this."
She opened a photograph.
Julian stood beside the brunette, dressed in black.
Behind them was a giant framed portrait of me.
A black ribbon crossed the corner.
Beneath it were fresh white lilies.
The date.
Exactly six months earlier.
The day after Julian secretly moved out of our downtown apartment.
The day he claimed he needed to travel overseas for business.
My stomach twisted.
"They even buried a coffin," the maid whispered.
"It was empty."
An empty funeral.
An empty grave.
A dead wife who was still breathing.
I looked toward the ballroom again.
The little boy couldn't have been older than six.
Old enough to remember Julian as his father.
Not as a stranger.
Not as "Mommy's new husband."
As his father.
That meant this relationship had existed long before my father died.
Long before the divorce.
Long before any of this.
A phone vibrated inside my purse.
Marcus.
"I've finished."
"I'm listening."
"You shouldn't go inside."
"I'm already here."
Silence.
Then he sighed.
"So you know."
"Not everything."
"You will."
He emailed a folder.
More than three hundred pages.
Financial records.
Hotel receipts.
School registrations.
Private photographs.
Every page made my heartbeat slower.
Colder.
Julian had maintained two completely different lives for almost seven years.
One with me.
One with them.
Different addresses.
Different bank accounts.
Different anniversaries.
Different birthdays.
He had celebrated Christmas twice every year.
Bought two engagement rings.
Signed two insurance policies.
Two wives.
One legal.
One secret.
Except now...
I wasn't even the legal one anymore.
Marcus's final message appeared beneath the documents.
May you like
The brunette's name isn't Emily Harper.
That's another lie.
