I Faked My Death—Then Came Back with His Twins

The man spoke, each word tight with an intensity that barely masked what he was feeling.

“Who is she?”

“Sir, you must be mistaken,” Maggie Thompson replied. “I don’t know you.” Her nails pressed into her palm, the sting grounding her. Her gaze was steady, a little perplexed—like she was looking at a total stranger.

Braxton Thompson felt like he’d been struck by lightning. Disguise or not, that voice and those eyes were unmistakable. He couldn’t accept that he’d gotten it wrong. In one swift move, he ripped off her sunglasses and mask—then recoiled, shoving her back in disgust.

“Who are you?” His eyes went wide with shock and disbelief. The brief hope he’d been clinging to vanished in an instant.

Maggie watched his sudden change with a touch of irony. So he really was looking for her? The eagerness he’d shown a moment ago suggested she meant something to him.

She slid her sunglasses back on, her gaze curious but cool. “I think you’ve made a mistake. I’ve only just come back to the country. It’s unlikely we’ve ever met.”

Braxton studied her, his chest going oddly hollow. The woman before him was undeniably striking—beautiful in a way that was sure of itself. The mole above her eyebrow was one thing his wife didn’t have. And there was a maturity in the way she moved, nothing like the timid woman he’d once known.

His ex-wife Maggie had been meek and unassuming—easy to push around, never daring to speak up. He’d kept her out of the public eye, convinced she wasn’t ready to be seen. Yet the woman in front of him radiated confidence, a professional who commanded attention.

Ready to leave, Maggie offered a polite smile. “I’m sorry about today. Consider this my way of making amends. Goodbye.” She handed him a gem—a design she favored, rare enough to make up for the damage to Braxton’s suit.

As she walked away, they’d drawn more than a few curious looks—including from Braxton’s assistant, Gustavo Cruz, who was left completely bewildered.

Wasn’t this woman stunning—just like his former wife? Braxton had stayed loyal all these years, even turning down Aubree Foster’s advances. Today’s encounter seemed to fly in the face of everything he’d held on to.

Still, Gustavo had to admit she did bear some resemblance to Maggie.

“Mr. Thompson, what’s going on?” Gustavo asked cautiously, trying to make sense of Braxton’s intentions. The usually composed man had just acted completely out of character—maybe he’d mistaken this woman for Maggie.

“Apologize first,” Braxton instructed, his expression cool and distant. He gave a slight bow and swiftly walked away.

In the car, Braxton couldn’t shake the encounter. “Gustavo, could she possibly be alive?”

Gustavo knew he meant Maggie. “Sir, that was a plunge into a void. The driver was unrecognizable. It’s unlikely she survived…”

A fall from that height wouldn’t leave anyone alive—unless by some miracle, like Madeline Johnston. They’d found her bloodied clothes with signs of predators nearby. Nothing more.

Maggie’s name had become a forbidden topic, never to be mentioned around Braxton.

“I guess. A woman like that wouldn’t have survived,” Braxton mused, turning the gem over in his fingers. It was designed by AE, a renowned international designer whose work had shot to fame over the past two years. It seemed unlikely his ex-wife had connections like that.

Gustavo felt a flicker of irritation. Why had Braxton held on to her earlier? His boss was clearly haunted by his past—and by his dreams.

“Mr. Thompson, are we heading to the Vienna Hotel now?” Gustavo asked hesitantly. Aubree had been nagging him about this event for quite some time.

“Yes.”

Lost in thought, Gustavo had to brake suddenly—but the car still crashed into the one ahead. His temper flared.

Maggie hurried out of her car, already apologizing. “I’m so sorry—I just got my license, and I’m not very experienced.”

“What kind of driving is that? Why are you slamming the—?” Gustavo began, then stopped short. He recognized her face. For a moment, neither of them could speak.

Maggie was speechless. They were crossing paths again so soon? What rotten luck. She should’ve let someone else drive today.

She felt embarrassed and annoyed at the same time. She’d rushed to the Vienna Hotel after Madeline said she was there with the kids, and her nerves had made her hit the gas instead of the brake.

She hadn’t expected to run into Braxton again.

“Who exactly are you?” Braxton demanded, suspicion flaring in his eyes. Running into her like this was too convenient to be a coincidence.

Maggie wanted to avoid him entirely. “Sir, like I said before, I don’t know you. This was an accident, and I take full responsibility. I’ll cover the damages.”

She handed Gustavo her contact info, eager to leave. “I’m in a hurry. I’ll pay for the repairs.”

“Give her the invoice,” Braxton said coldly. Gustavo handed her a detailed repair estimate. “This car is a limited edition worldwide. Every part is custom-designed, so the repairs have to be custom-made, too. The total comes to two million four hundred thousand dollars.”

Why not just rob me? Maggie almost blurted out, her heart sinking. Damn Braxton and his money.

She sighed, chalked it up to bad luck, and reluctantly wrote out a check. As she started to get back into her car, Braxton climbed in beside her.

“What are you doing?” Maggie demanded, momentarily stunned.