Dead Wife Walking_ The Billionaire's New Obsession

The morning sun cast long shadows across the coastal highway as I gripped the steering wheel, my knuckles white against the leather. Twenty-four hours had passed since I'd overheard Lucas and Sarah planning my death, and now I was driving toward what they believed would be my final destination.

My heart hammered against my ribs, but my hands remained steady. In the passenger seat, a waterproof bag contained everything I'd need—diving gear I'd purchased with cash from three different stores, a burner phone, and enough money to disappear for a while. The irony wasn't lost on me that my grandmother's trust fund, the very thing Lucas coveted, had given me the resources to fake my own death.

The brake pedal felt different under my foot—spongy, unreliable. They'd done exactly what Sarah promised, slipping into our garage sometime after midnight to sabotage the brake lines. I'd watched from the upstairs window as Sarah's silhouette moved like a ghost through the shadows, her movements precise and practiced. How many times had they rehearsed this?

My phone buzzed on the dashboard. Lucas, of course.

"Drive safely today, sweetheart. I love you."

The words that might have once warmed my heart now felt like ice water in my veins. I typed back with trembling fingers: "Love you too. See you tonight."

Tonight. When he expected to receive a call from the police about a tragic accident on the coastal highway.

The road began its familiar descent toward Cliff Point, where the highway curved dangerously close to the rocky shore below. I'd driven this route countless times, admiring the way the morning light danced on the waves. Now those same waves would serve as my salvation—and Lucas's downfall.

I pulled over at the scenic overlook, my hands shaking as I cut the engine. The Pacific stretched endlessly before me, its surface choppy with whitecaps. A hundred feet below, waves crashed against jagged rocks with thunderous force. Anyone watching from a distance would see exactly what Lucas and Sarah expected—a grieving widow's car plunging to a fiery death.

But they wouldn't see me slip out at the last second.

I changed quickly in the backseat, pulling on the wetsuit I'd hidden beneath a blanket. The neoprene felt foreign against my skin, but the diving instructor had assured me it would provide enough protection for a short swim in these waters. My hands fumbled with the waterproof bag's straps as I secured it around my waist.

The brake pedal went completely to the floor when I tested it—Sarah had done her work well. Too well. For a moment, doubt crept in. What if I couldn't get out in time? What if the car's momentum carried me over the cliff before I could escape?

I shook my head, forcing the fear away. Lucas had underestimated me our entire marriage, seeing only what he wanted to see—a naive woman too trusting for her own good. He was about to learn how wrong he'd been.

I positioned the car at the top of the slope, engine running, and took one last look at my wedding ring. The diamond caught the sunlight, sending tiny rainbows across the dashboard. Three years of marriage, reduced to this moment of betrayal and survival.

I slipped the ring off and left it on the passenger seat. Let them find it in the wreckage.

The car lurched forward as I released the emergency brake. Gravity took hold immediately, pulling the vehicle down the steep incline toward the cliff's edge. Wind rushed through the open windows as the speedometer climbed—twenty, thirty, forty miles per hour.

The edge rushed toward me with terrifying speed. Fifty feet. Forty. Thirty.

I grabbed the door handle, my heart slamming against my ribs like a caged bird. The rocky shore below looked impossibly far away, the waves violent and unforgiving.

Twenty feet from the edge, I threw myself from the car.

The impact with the ground knocked the breath from my lungs, gravel tearing at the wetsuit as I rolled away from the road. Pain shot through my shoulder, but I forced myself to keep moving, scrambling toward the cliff face as my car sailed over the edge.

The sound of metal striking rock echoed across the water like thunder. Then came the explosion—a brilliant orange fireball that sent black smoke billowing into the morning sky. The heat reached me even from my position pressed against the cliff wall, warming my face as I watched my old life burn.

For several minutes, I remained frozen against the rocks, watching debris rain into the churning sea below. This was it. Alice Mills was dead, consumed by flames and saltwater. What remained was someone harder, someone who understood that survival meant thinking three steps ahead of your enemies.

My phone—the real one, not the burner—lay shattered on the rocks where I'd thrown it before the jump. By now, other drivers would have seen the explosion. Emergency services would be on their way. And soon, very soon, Lucas would receive the call that would make him believe he'd won.

I pulled the burner phone from my waterproof bag and sent a single text to a number I'd memorized: "Package delivered. Phase one complete."

The response came within seconds: "Understood. Phase two begins tonight."

I smiled grimly as I began the treacherous climb down the cliff face toward the hidden cove where a boat waited. Lucas thought he'd eliminated the only obstacle between him and my grandmother's fortune. Instead, he'd just given me the perfect opportunity to destroy him completely.

The morning sun climbed higher as I disappeared into the shadows below, leaving behind only smoke, twisted metal, and the beginning of Lucas Mitchell's worst nightmare.