She Returned as His Dead Wife to Destroy Them All

I watched the tender scene from a distance.

Millicent sucked in a breath, lowered her voice, and leaned in close.

"Mrs. Stephens, does your husband really bring you along every time he visits his late wife's grave? You must have nerves of steel."

I looked down with a quiet smile.

"Well, everyone has a past, don't they?"

"I had an ex-boyfriend once. We were deeply in love. We came this close to getting married."

Jackson lifted his head at that, his gaze drifting toward me with a flicker of scrutiny.

Millicent's eyes went wide.

"Really? If you two were so in love, why did you split up? What happened?"

I glanced up at Jackson.

And let out a soft, derisive laugh.

"He couldn't resist the temptation of my best friend. Ended up in her bed."

The moment the words left my mouth, the air went dead still.

Jackson and Millicent stared at each other, the color draining from both their faces in an instant.

A layer of indescribable embarrassment settled over Millicent's expression.

"Mrs. Stephens."

Jackson cut me off with a frown. "We have somewhere to be. We should get going."

He took Millicent by the arm and turned to say goodbye.

"Next time we're free, I'll bring Millie over to visit you and Mr. Stephens at home."

I watched with my own eyes as the two of them disappeared from the cemetery.

Only then did I light a cigarette, dragging on it with idle disinterest.

My gaze drifted back to the gravestone that bore my name.

Mrs. Stephens?

Even now, hearing that title gave me a split second of disorientation.

They didn't know.

Sophia Simmons was a fake name.

No one knew that beneath this borrowed face, the soul hiding underneath belonged to Lucille Harding.

A hand plucked the cigarette from my lips without warning.

Arthur frowned.

"Smoking is bad for you."

"And I've told you before. Sophia Simmons never smoked."

Oh.

Right. I'd almost forgotten.

I wasn't Lucille Harding anymore, the girl who could do whatever she pleased.

I was just a stand-in.

And a stand-in was supposed to behave. To look the part.

I didn't argue. I simply slipped my arm through Arthur's. "Let's go."

After we left the cemetery, Arthur wasted no time.

"The couple just now, Jackson Gilbert and his wife. They're the boyfriend and the best friend who betrayed you seven years ago, aren't they?"

Nothing ever escaped Arthur's notice.

"Yes."

He looped his arm around my waist with casual ease, his voice gentle.

"You've never told me your story."

"There's nothing worth telling."

I had no interest in revisiting it.

Arthur didn't press. He just looked at me quietly, a faint smile resting on his lips.

That was who he was. A gentleman to the core.

He would never say anything to pressure or force someone.

I let out a sigh and began, piece by piece.

Once upon a time, Lucille Harding had been a golden girl.

Born into wealth, bright and vivacious, never having worried about money a day in her life.

And to top it all off, she'd had a brilliant, handsome childhood sweetheart right next door: Jackson Gilbert.

Everyone assumed the two of them were a perfect match, destined for each other.

The year they both got into Crestwood University, they started dating, just as everyone expected. The plan was to get engaged right after graduation.

But the thing about life is, just when everything seems close to perfect, something goes wrong.

And Millicent was that something.

The first time we met, we were eight years old.

Her father had died young. Her mother had run off with another man. She was about to be sent to a group home.

I was the one who begged my parents to take her in, to raise her like a second daughter.

I never imagined that behind the warmth she showed me, behind calling me her sister, she had been consumed by jealousy all along.

The year I turned eighteen, someone leaked confidential information from my father's company, plunging it into crisis.