After He Faked His Death, I Married My Father's Best Friend

I wasn't supposed to be home.

If Mrs. Carter hadn't canceled her luncheon at the last minute, I would have spent another afternoon smiling politely beside my mother-in-law while she accepted sympathy for a son who wasn't actually dead.

But life has a strange sense of humor.

Because for the first time in a year, I came home early.

And for the first time in a year, I learned the truth.

I stepped into the house quietly.

The mansion was empty except for my mother-in-law.

At least, that's what I thought.

As I walked past the study, I heard laughter.

Not crying.

Not grieving.

Laughter.

I paused.

The door wasn't fully closed.

"...you should stay in Paris a little longer," my mother-in-law said.

I froze.

Paris?

The next voice belonged to a woman.

Warm.

Serena.

My husband's childhood friend.

The woman my husband always described as "practically family."

The woman who somehow spent every holiday with us before his death.

The woman my mother-in-law adored.

Serena laughed.

"I can't stay forever."

"Why not?"

"Because Chloe's birthday is next month."

My mother-in-law immediately sounded excited.

"Oh, are you really coming back?"

"Of course."

I heard the sound of a wine glass.

Then Serena continued.

"And this time I'm bringing my boyfriend."

My mother-in-law gasped.

Finally.

"You've been hiding him for over a year."

"I know."

"You never even told me his name."

Serena laughed again.

"You'll meet him soon enough."

My mother-in-law lowered her voice.

"Is he finally ready to come home?"

For some reason, those words made my stomach tighten.

Home?

Why did she say it like that?

Serena was silent for a moment.

Then she answered.

"He's getting there."

My mother-in-law chuckled.

"Good. Very good."

Something felt wrong.

Deeply wrong.

I couldn't explain why.

Then Serena said something that made my blood run cold.

"How's Vivian?"

My name.

The conversation immediately became interesting.

My mother-in-law laughed.

Actually laughed.

"Still stupid."

The air left my lungs.

"Really?"

"She's still taking care of us."

Serena burst out laughing.

"Oh my God."

"I know."

My mother-in-law sounded delighted.

"She still visits Ethan's grave every month."

Another round of laughter.

My fingers tightened around the shopping bag in my hand.

"I almost feel bad for her," Serena said.

"No, you don't."

"No. I really don't."

Both women laughed.

I felt sick.

One year.

For one year, I had cried for my husband.

For one year, I had paid every bill in this house.

For one year, I had listened to his mother tell me that I owed her family because Ethan died trying to reach me after my miscarriage.

And now they were laughing.

At me.

"She's getting weaker too," my mother-in-law said.

"Good."

My heart skipped.

Good?

"What about the supplements?" Serena asked.

"They're working."

I stopped breathing.

The supplements.

Every morning for six months, Margaret insisted I take vitamins.

The vitamins she personally prepared.

The vitamins she claimed would help me recover from grief.

My hands started shaking.

"What did the doctor say?" Serena asked.

"Nothing yet."

"Keep increasing the dosage."

My mother-in-law hummed.

"We'll see."

The shopping bag slipped slightly from my fingers.

The paper crinkled.

Inside the study, the conversation stopped.

My heart nearly exploded.

A chair scraped.

I immediately stepped away from the door and walked toward the living room.

Three seconds later, the study door opened.

Margaret appeared.

Her eyes narrowed immediately.

"Vivian."

I looked up.

"Oh. You're home."

"When did you get here?"

Her question came too fast.

Too sharp.

I smiled weakly.

"About ten minutes ago."

Her gaze searched my face.

"What were you doing?"

"Putting away groceries."

A lie.

A terrible lie.

But apparently good enough.

Her shoulders relaxed.

"Good."

Before I could answer, another voice echoed from upstairs.

"Vivian!"

I closed my eyes briefly.

Chloe.

The real daughter.

The real sister.

The woman who spent the last year making my life miserable.

Heavy footsteps pounded down the stairs.

She appeared wearing a silk robe and an expression that suggested I had personally ruined her day.

"Where's my dress?"

I blinked.

"What?"

"The blue one."

She rolled her eyes.

"The one I told you to pick up from the cleaners."

"I got it yesterday."

"Then why isn't it in my room?"

Because I'm not your servant.

The answer stayed in my head.

Instead, I said, "I'll take it upstairs."

"You should have done that already."

Margaret nodded in agreement.

"Chloe shouldn't have to remind you."

Of course.

I almost laughed.

Nothing I did was ever enough.

Not after Ethan died.

Not after I became the convenient villain.

Chloe flopped onto the sofa.

"By the way, Serena's coming back for my birthday."

I forced myself to look surprised.

"Really?"

"Obviously."

She smiled.

"Mom's planning a huge party."

Margaret immediately brightened.

"Serena deserves it."

Of course she did.

Serena always deserved everything.

Attention.

Praise.

Affection.

The things I spent years trying to earn.

"She's bringing her boyfriend too," Chloe added.

My heart jumped.

I kept my face neutral.

"That's exciting."

"It is."

Chloe grinned.

"You'll love him."

Something about the way she said it made me uncomfortable.

I looked at Margaret.

Her smile looked strange too.

Like they were sharing a secret.

A secret I wasn't supposed to know.

I tilted my head.

"What's his name?"

The room went silent.

Interesting.

Very interesting.

Chloe looked at Margaret.

Margaret looked at Chloe.

Then Margaret cleared her throat.

"Why does it matter?"

I smiled.

"I was just curious."

"It doesn't concern you."

That answer came too quickly.

The silence afterward lasted a little too long.

I filed that away.

Something was wrong.

Something much bigger than Serena having a boyfriend.

Then Chloe stood up.

"Oh, and clean my room before dinner."

I stared at her.

"My room?"

"Yes."

She smiled.

"Or did you forget what happened last time?"

I knew exactly what happened last time.

The snake.

A live snake hidden under my blanket.

I still remembered waking up screaming.

Both she and Margaret claimed it was an accident.

I knew better.

Chloe leaned closer.

Her voice dropped.

"Don't make me remind you again."

I looked into her eyes.

For a second, she seemed uncomfortable.

Maybe because I wasn't apologizing.

Maybe because I wasn't crying.

Maybe because something inside me had finally snapped.

I smiled.

A very small smile.

"Of course."

Chloe frowned.

The expression vanished so quickly she probably thought she'd imagined it.

I picked up the shopping bags.

Then I walked upstairs.

Once the bedroom door closed behind me, I locked it.

My hands shook.

My entire body shook.

I sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the wall.

Serena's boyfriend.

The secret.

The strange reactions.

The supplements.

The laughter.

The way Margaret asked if he was ready to come home.

Home.

Not visit.

Not travel.

Home.

I opened my laptop.

For the first time since Ethan's funeral, I searched for the accident report.

I downloaded every document.

Every witness statement.

Every insurance record.

Every police file.

Three hours later, my pulse was racing.

Because I found something.

Something impossible.

The vehicle had burned completely.

The report listed personal belongings recovered.

A watch.

A wallet.

A wedding ring.

But there was one thing missing.

The body.

No photographs.

No medical identification records.

No DNA confirmation.

No autopsy report.

Nothing.

I stared at the screen.

Then at Ethan's framed photograph sitting beside my bed.

The smiling man I had buried.

The man I had mourned.

The man I still loved enough to hate myself for surviving.

Slowly, I reached for my phone.

And for the first time in a year, I asked myself the question I should have asked long ago.

What if Ethan Blackwood never died at all?