Wanted By My Husband's Murderer

The Stranger's Offer

CHAPTER 2

The Stranger's Offer

My hands wouldn't stop shaking. I kept them wrapped around the hot mug, pressing my palms against it until the heat bit into my skin, just to feel something other than the cold, hollow terror in my chest.

I slowly lifted my head, my eyes burning with unshed tears, fully expecting to see a blue uniform. I expected handcuffs. I expected the harsh grip of a police officer dragging me out into the light to face a crowd of shouting reporters.

Instead, I found myself looking at a young man. He didn't have a badge, he wasn't reaching for a radio. He was dressed neatly, with sharp features and dark eyes that fixed entirely on me.

He looked at me as if he had been looking for me his whole life.

"Why haven’t you reported to my office yet?" he asked, tilting his head. He looked genuinely curious, his voice dropping into a smooth, easy tone. "I’ve been waiting for you to come in since morning."

I blinked, the fog in my brain making it hard to process his words. Confusion mixed with a dizzying sense of relief. He wasn't a cop–he was just a guy looking for someone else.

"I... I'm sorry?" I stammered. My voice was a rough whisper. "I think you have the wrong person. I'm just... passing through."

Before he could answer, a flash of blue light reflected off the window beside us. I turned my head toward the television mounted above the counter.

The volume was low, but the bright red banner at the bottom of the screen screamed louder than any siren.

BREAKING NEWS: FUGITIVE WIFE WANTED FOR THE MURDER OF MILLIONAIRE CORBIN CARTER. LARGE REWARD OFFERED.

My stomach dropped.

My face filled the screen. It was a picture from a charity gala Corbin had dragged me to three months ago. In the photo, I was smiling, but I remembered how much my jaw had ached from forcing it, how cold Corbin’s hand had felt on my waist.

Now, that same face was being broadcast across the country as a killer.

The cafe didn’t react all at once.

A chair scraped somewhere behind me. Someone muttered under their breath. The waitress leaned slightly over the counter, as if she was debating taking a closer look at the screen.

The room stayed the same, but something inside it shifted just enough to throw everything off.

A gasp nearly escaped my lips. Panicking, I yanked the strings of my hoodie, pulling it lower over my forehead.

The sound in my head drowned everything else out.

‘Please don't look up,’ I prayed, staring at the waitress across the room. ‘Please don't see me.’

The young man didn't miss it. He turned his head, his dark eyes lingering on the screen a second too long, as if comparing it to something he already knew.

He let out a soft, low whistle, his expression shifting into mild disgust.

"Who in their right senses would kill their own husband?" he murmured.

“Funny,” he added lightly. “People always look surprised when obvious stories like this trend.”

“I mean, who else could it be?”

His words hit me like a blow.

Anger flared. You don't know anything! I wanted to scream at him. But the truth was a luxury I couldn't afford.

Clamping my teeth down on my lip, I swallowed the bitter taste of my helplessness.

"Anyway," he said, turning back to me with a polite nod. "I'm Adrian. I'm the one the cafe owner told you about. I assume you were waiting here for me."

"The owner?" I repeated, my brain scrambling through the panic to find a foothold. "I don't know what you're talking about."

“The agency sent word yesterday," Adrian explained, folding his arms. "I requested a new secretary for my estate up the mountain. The owner helps filter the local applications. You match the description.”

His gaze lingered, like he was confirming something.

“Though you're a couple of hours late."

I stared at him, the pieces finally clicking together. He thought I was someone else.

A dangerous idea took root. It was a terrible one, but staying meant getting caught.

If I went with him, I could buy myself some time hiding away in some isolated estate up in the mountains. Enough time to figure out who actually killed my husband and clear my name.

"Oh," I said, forcing my voice to steady as I stood up from the booth. I gripped the strap of my purse.

"Yes. Right. I'm sorry, my mind has been all over the place today. The trip into town was long and exhausting."

"So you are the new secretary?" Adrian asked. His eyes narrowed slightly, studying me.

Every instinct screamed at me to run again, but there was nowhere left to go. No doors that didn’t lead straight back to sirens, questions, and a cell I might never leave.

"Yes," I lied, slamming the lid on my dread.

“That's me.”

“I'm ready to start whenever you are. Please, we should go. Now.”

Needles raced down my neck the moment the plea left my lips.

This was insane.

It didn’t make sense. I did it anyway.

Adrian didn't move.

The silence stretched long enough to feel dangerous.

Then, slowly, the corners of his mouth tilted upward into a dark, knowing smirk.

He leaned down, bringing his face close to mine. His breath brushed my ears as he spoke in a whisper that drained the heat from me.

"Of course we can leave,” he said.

My shoulders sagged. For a second, I thought that I was safe.

Then he said my name.

“Evelyn Carter.”

My body went still.

“The woman who murdered her husband."