Haunted By The Wife He Lost

e collapsed and I survived a fifteen-day kidnapping hell. I saw

ant, he used her lies to call me "tainted" from my past and

on at our training grounds. He shoved

" he said, his voice like

mising a rescue team he

route, or my brother's plan. I faked my dea

Now, he's about to find out you can

pte

Stephen

lated, they moved on. But I wasn't just dead; I was re

by loss. They said he looked so lost, so utterly devastated, standing there in his bespoke suit, eyes shadowed by a grief that wasn't r

metal with a finger, whispering my name into the empty air, then slide into bed with it beside him. The media

uropean beach club, the kind of place where neon lights kissed ancient stone. My dress, barely there, caught the

cent. He pulled me closer, his lips brushing my ear as he whispered something in Italian I didn't quite c

cob' s eyes, even from this distance. Wide, disbelieving, sober. The music seemed to mute, the laughter around me faded into a dist

n't spill a drop. His face, once so sharp and arrogant, was now gaunt, etched with lines I d

n, a flicker. A slow, chilling smile spread across his face, not one of joy, but of a predator who had finally

hit the table with a sharp clink, a sound that cut through the music. Then, he lunged.

phantom of light and shadow, leaving no trace. He would search, I knew

, a cold, hard curve. I typed a single, final sentence. "You can' t catch a ghost, Jacob. Not when she' s already fr

ess CEO who had seized control of my family's fallen empire, and me, Eloise Stephenson, the disgraced h

ce. I believed him. I loved him with a desperation born of trauma, a love so consuming it bordered on obsession. I t

nce of our lives. A shy intern, or so she seemed. Jacob, ever the rescuer, found solace in her apparent g

ome smelling of her cheap perfume, a scent that clung to him like a cheap lie. I' d find anonymous photos in my inbox, blurry

The endless betrayals had hardened me, polished the rough edges of my pain into a cutting cynicism. I