"M-mary! You are alive!" Tyler stood at the door, shocked and just staring at her in utter disbelief. He knew he was gaping at her. But he couldn't believe it. She was alive. Mary was alive!
Earlier that day, he had received information from one of his men that he had seen someone like Mary at Dave's old apartment. He even sent a picture. Yes, the picture was not as clear as it should be because it was taken far away, but it definitely looked like his wife, so he arranged a quick flight to his private jet immediately. And no, he wasn't disappointed. There, she was standing at the kitchen door, his wife, Mary, with her dark short hair, well-defined feminine muscles that weren't there before, her tummy flat, her eyes cold, raw, and lifeless.
“Tyler—”
"Mary?" he whispered under his breath.
