Back From The Dead: The Wife In My Wife's Grave

~ Ava’s Reed POV~ "You have exactly ten seconds to remove yourself from my son's dining table before I have security drag you out." I set my fork down slowly. I looked at Victoria Kingsley dead in the eyes, right across that long, fancy table, and said the only thing that made sense to me. "I'd love to see them try." —------- It was my third day living inside the Kingsley mansion. Three days. And it already felt like three years. The place was beautiful, yeah. But it was the exact kind of beauty that made you feel bad about yourself just by looking at it. Like a museum. Like everything inside it was behind glass with a sign that said don't touch. Everything was expensive, everything was perfect. And everything screamed that I didn't belong there. I knew it. They knew it. Even the walls knew it. The dining room was the worst. That long table, it could seat like twenty people easily, and every single person sitting at it that morning had the same look on their face. Cold, quiet. Like they were waiting for me to embarrass myself. Victoria Kingsley sat at the far end. Silver-blonde hair. Perfect posture. Face like she was carved out of ice and had never once smiled in her life. Since I arrived, she hadn't said one word directly to me. Not one. She'd look past me, around me, through me, like I was a chair someone had left in the wrong spot. Until that morning. She started talking to the table. Not to me, about me. Said something about "certain arrangements" that were made without proper thought for the family's standards. Real smooth. Real sharp. Then she turned and looked at me. And gave me ten seconds. I didn't flinch, i didn't stand up. I didn't say sorry or look away or do any of the things she probably expected me to do. Instead, I picked my fork back up. And I kept eating. The whole table went dead silent instantly. And then I made the mistake of glancing at Ethan. He was sitting at the head of the table, cutting his food. Jaw tight, eyes down. Completely checked out of whatever was happening. He didn't look at his mother. He didn't look at me either. He didn't say a single word. Not one. And honestly? That hurt more than anything Victoria said. But I didn't show it. When I finished my food, I folded my napkin nice and neat. I stood up, excused myself politely, and walked out of that dining room with my back straight and my face saying absolutely nothing. I turned the corner into the hallway. And then I stopped. I pressed my back against the wall and closed my eyes. How did I end up here? —------- Three weeks ago, my life smelled like old coffee and floor cleaner. I was working the early morning shift at the convenience store, same as every other day. Stacking shelves. Wearing that uniform that was just a little too big at the shoulders. Smiling at customers even when I had zero reason to smile. I am twenty-six years old. No parents, debt, the kind that doesn't sleep, the kind that follows you home and knocks on your door at night. The loan sharks had already come twice that week. I was trying to figure out how I was gonna make rent and pay them back when I looked up through the store window and saw a black car parked outside. A really nice black car. The kind that had no business being parked in front of a place like ours. Then a man walked in. Older, expensive suit. He was calm, the kind that rich people have when they've never had to worry about anything in their lives. He walked straight to where I was standing. I didn't step back or try to move away. He looked at me like he already knew who I was. Which was weird, because I'd never seen him before in my life. "Miss Reed," he said. Just my name. My name is Arthur Kingsley.” I knew that name. Everyone in the country knew that name. Kingsley Corporation was one of the biggest business empires around. I'd seen it in newspapers, on billboards, on television. I'd never in my life expected to hear that name standing close to me in a small convenience store. “Arthur Kingsley” I whispered the name. “Okay, so what can I offer you or what would you love to order?” “Nothing.” He said. “I'm just here to talk.” “Talk? You mean to the manager?” “Not the manager.” He said. “To you.” “Okay…go on.” I said to him, “but make it fast. Two minutes.” "I have a proposal for you." He said immediately. Just like that. I almost laughed. He laid it out fast. His son needed a wife, on paper. Just a contract. Six months, maybe a year. At the end of it, I'd walk away with ten million dollars and my family's debt cleared. Every single cent of it. I stared at him for a second. Maybe five or ten seconds. Then I laughed. For real this time, I actually laughed. I looked around, left, right, half expecting someone to jump out from behind shouting that it was a prank. A camera crew. Something. Anything that made this make sense. Nothing. I turned back to him. "Is this a joke?" "No." "You just walked up to someone you don't even know and offered to pay her to marry your son." I shook my head. "That's… that's insane. You don't know me. I could be anyone." "I know enough," he said again. Something about the way he kept saying that made me uneasy. I pushed it aside. "Mr. Kingsley," I said, as politely as I could manage, "you have the wrong woman. I'm sorry, but I'm not interested.” He smiled. Not saying anything yet. "You've got the wrong girl," I said, and I walked away. I was already close to the door to step out when his voice said the last thing I wasn't expecting to hear. "If you really care about your family debt, Miss Reed, you have no choice." I stopped walking. I stood there on that sidewalk for a long time. Cars passing. Wind blowing. My heart doing something stupid in my chest. At this point, I knew I had no choice than to accept this offer. That evening, I signed the contract in the back of his car. My hands were shaking. My eyes were dry. I wasn't going to cry in front of Arthur Kingsley. I wasn't going to give him that. He watched me sign. Didn't say anything. Then he turned and looked out the car window. And I caught his reflection in the glass. He wasn't smiling. He wasn't satisfied. It was something else on his face, something heavier. Older. Like a man who had just done something he knew he couldn't undo. I didn't understand it then. I filed it away somewhere in the back of my mind and told myself it didn't matter. I told myself a lot of things that night. —------- I opened my eyes. Back in the hallway. Back in the mansion. Back in this life I'd signed myself into. Just a contract. A transaction. You'll survive it. I pushed off the wall and headed for the stairs. At the top of the staircase, I turned down the east wing corridor. It was a long hall, lots of doors, all of them open. Except one. Right at the end. One door. Closed. The only closed door on the whole floor. I don't know why I stopped. Something about it just pulled at me. I stood there looking at it for probably longer than I should have. A housekeeper walked past me from behind. Middle-aged woman. Quiet. She'd been here long enough that she moved through the house like she was part of it. "Excuse me," I said, casual as I could. "Whose room is that?" Her footsteps slowed. She looked at the door. Then at me. Then quickly, real quickly away. And she kept walking. Didn't answer. Didn't even pretend she hadn't heard me. I stood there still staring at that closed door for a long moment. —------- That night, I lay in my bed staring at the ceiling. The room was cold. The sheets were expensive and felt like nothing. I couldn't sleep. I kept thinking about the housekeeper's face. The way her eyes shut down the second I asked that question, like a door slamming closed. I thought about Arthur's face in the car window. And then I thought about Ethan. The first time he saw me, actually looked at my face for real, it wasn't coldness that flashed in his eyes. It wasn't surprise either. It was something worse. It was recognition. Like he already knew me. Like he had been waiting for this moment. And dreading it. I stared at the ceiling for a long time. And the thought started creeping in slow, like cold water under a door. What if I wasn't brought into this family by accident? What if someone planned this, all of it and I was the last one to find out? And if that's true… then what exactly did I just walk into?