The Billionaire’s Wife Who Died Twice

The champagne in her hand felt warm, but she couldn't bring herself to drink. Not here, and certainly not of these people. She did need to be on her best behavior though with a smile and a nod, Elias had insisted that she should come tonight, as part of the show. To make sure that the billionaires would actually loosen their money belts, and invest in the foundation. The business woman in front was talking to Seraphina, about her third yacht, about her captain, about the workers in the Mediterranean, the troubles she encountered with her employees. She didn't listen, it didn't interest her. Her daughter had asked her about a castle this morning, "Not a castle, sweetheart, a hotel" she'd replied, expecting Elara to smile, instead she frowns. A hotel is the same thing, the little girl huffs, but it isn't, I said. Not at all. Suddenly, she feels it, burning into her back, eyes tracking her every move, not amused. Seraphina turns around, her breath catches in her throat and she feels suddenly light-headed. The man in front of her is stunning, dark hair falling back, his eyes are beautiful, piercing her right through the soul. His mouth is a sensual curve of amusement, a self-dictated god, enjoying the view. He's dressed very nice, and this person was right next to her. His smile falters at the sight of her, his expression twists. You should feel honored for getting a second look, a warm voice says from nowhere, asking her if she has any idea who he is, your husband? My God the words send her reeling and suddenly the world is spinning and her vision goes grey. Your husband, the words come again and she tries not to look, tries to blink rapidly until the haze lifts, trying so hard not to hear that voice. A voice she should have known was real, yet somehow was still completely unfamiliar. "Can I help you?" she asks, the words coming out in a rush. He doesn't answer, instead, his eyes search her up and down, reading her like a book. "Seraphina" he says finally, and something inside of her shatters. Oh God, her hands shake, her knees weaken, and she looks at the man in front of her, the love of her life, the man who buried her. "I'm sorry," she says, "I don't know you" but her voice is hollow, empty and she can feel the disappointment already in his gaze as he repeats her name. "It's you" he says, "It's really you," and when all Seraphina could do was shake her head, tell him that her name was Sera Monroe, and that he was mistaken somehow, he laughs, a sharp, bitter noise, and explains that he'd been watching her from afar, and that Seraphina was the love of his life, the mother of his children, that he'd taken her from the fire, and that he truly believed he'd buried her five years ago. That he'd watched as they slipped her into the ground, and that he'd stood in the rain with trembling hands as they plopped dirt on her grave. That he had left flowers every month, told the grave of his heart that he was sorry that he hadn't taken better care of her. That he loved her, and that he'd never, ever forgive himself if he didn't get her back. Her fingers gripped the stem of her champagne glass, as she finally manages to respond, to tell the man in front of her that she was, most definitely, not Seraphina, as he said she was. The look in his eyes, that expression of shock and horror and yes, finally, recognition was crushed when she shook her head no. You're beautiful, he said when her back was turned, and she turned around, blinking rapidly as if that could make him disappear. Oh, sweet Jesus, I thought you were dead, he whispered, but she shook her head again, telling herself firmly that the only thing holding her up was the bar rail. Seraphina turned back around, pretending to be interested in the large man on the right, while silently praying for someone to come distract this man before he did something stupid. Oh, God, what was coming out of her mouth? You're beautiful, she said, and he laughed, that terrible laugh again, and told her she was wrong. Tell me about your castle, he asks her, and she says she doesn't know what he's talking about, she doesn't know anything. He asked her if she had any idea of him, Her stomach twisted into knots. Those brown eyes searched hers, trying to find something that wasn't there. I was your husband, he says, and the words hit her like a train. Married? To You? Seraphina, he says again, and she looks away, shaking her head, because God, if she looked into those eyes, if she focused on that voice, she was going to believe him, and she'd be in so much trouble with herself if she did. "I don't know you," she says, and "you are not my husband," again, because what else was she supposed to say? That this stranger had stolen her daughter's name and was trying to convince her that he was her father? Her hands shook, and suddenly she needed a minute, because this was too much, this was all too sudden. I know you, she says, and I will find you, she says, but Seraphina tells her self that she's crazy and needs to focus. That she should move, slowly, towards the doors to, to get some air, to get away from this nightmare. I can't believe you're alive, he says, Seraphina says nothing other than "you really should stay away from me" but he reaches for her hand, and the last thing she expects is warmth. Familiarity. Comfort, and Seraphina tears her hand away. Can't you see I don't have time for this, She tells him. Oh, I'm sorry, he says, not looking sorry at all, I've been gone for five long years, and if you don't mind my asking, do you have a daughter? And Seraphina tells him it's none of his business, and he presses her, and she leaves him there, angry and surprised, telling herself that she wasn't interested in what happened in the past, only the present, but the longer she stayed there, the longer she listened to him, the more she was starting to get interested in something else. A future perhaps, or maybe another name to forget and pretend not to know. Seraphina moved quickly, her heart was still racing from this conversation, she couldn't explain it, these feelings were so familiar, and at the same time, so foreign to her. She turned around fast, and the last thing on her mind was that he was following her, but he was. She could feel his stare on the back of her neck as she exited through the glass doors onto the terrace. The cool night air was a welcome distraction as she leant against the railing, taking deep, cleansing breaths, in through her nose, out through her mouth, in again, and out, until her hands stopped shaking and her head stopped swimming. She closed her eyes to the sensation of freedom, only to open them to the presence of someone behind her. She turned to see the man staring at her from the doorway. He didn't look angry anymore. Not yet anyway. "I told you to stay away from me," she says. "I know." "But I wanted to tell you one more thing". She waited, and he said, "I don't know why you don't remember me, but I swear to God that I'm going to find out, and that I'm going to find you, wherever you are, however you live, and whoever you're with, and I'm going to make you remember me, Seraphina, because I lost you once, and I buried you once, and I'm damn sure as hell not going to lose you again", while Seraphina stood, frozen in place, until the words finally reached her brain. That sounded like a threat, she said, and it wasn't; he replied smiling gently. Her heart hammers in her ear as she's trying her best not to look him in the eyes. "I'll find you again, Seraphina," he said, "after five long years of searching, I'm not going to give up now," and Seraphina walked away, still not looking back, heart still racing in her chest.