Chapter 11
1163 Words
Chapter 11
The Man Who Did Not Die
For a moment, I was certain my mind was breaking.
That was the only explanation that made sense. Grief did strange things to people. Trauma rewired memory. I had lost too much too quickly. Of course I would see ghosts.
Anthony Hart was dead.
I had stood at his funeral. I had watched Valerie cling to James’s arm, sobbing loudly while Anthony’s casket was lowered into the ground. I had read the headlines. Plane accident. No survivors. Tragic.
Dead.
And yet, he was standing ten feet away from me, alive and solid and unmistakably real.
I stopped walking.
Anthony turned fully this time, his eyes meeting mine. There was no shock in his expression, no confusion. Only a quiet, resigned recognition, like he had known this moment would come eventually.
“Daphne,” he said.
Hearing my name in his voice shattered whatever fragile balance I was holding onto.
My suitcase slipped from my hand and hit the ground.
“You’re dead,” I said. The words came out flat, unsteady. “I watched you get buried.”
Anthony exhaled slowly, like he had been holding that breath for a year. “I know.”
People passed us on the dock, laughing, talking, living. No one paid us any attention. To them, this was just two strangers crossing paths near the water.
To me, reality was unraveling.
“You died,” I repeated. “Valerie—”
His jaw tightened at her name. “Valerie made sure everyone believed that.”
My heart began to pound. Not with fear.
With something colder.
“How?” I asked. “How are you here.”
Anthony glanced around, then gestured toward a small café near the harbor. “We shouldn’t do this out here. Come sit with me.”
Every instinct told me to run.
Every instinct told me to stay.
I picked up my suitcase and followed him.
Inside the café, it was warm and quiet. The smell of coffee and baked bread wrapped around us. Anthony chose a table in the corner, his movements unhurried, controlled. He waited until I sat before taking the seat across from me.
Up close, the changes were clearer.
He looked leaner. Harder. His hair was shorter, threaded with silver that hadn’t been there before. His eyes held something sharp now, something guarded.
He was calm in a way that came from surviving something terrible.
“You’re alive,” I said again, softer this time.
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you tell anyone?”
“Because I couldn’t,” he replied evenly. “Not without dying for real.”
The words sent a chill down my spine.
Anthony folded his hands on the table. “Valerie tried to have me killed.”
The café noise faded. Every sound dulled.
“She what?”
He didn’t hesitate. “She paid someone. A pilot. The crash was supposed to be an accident. Mechanical failure. Clean. No witnesses.”
My stomach lurched.
“I found out three weeks before the flight,” he continued. “She got sloppy. She always thought I was too sentimental to notice things. Too trusting.”
I stared at him, my mind racing. Valerie’s grief. Her hysteria. Her sudden closeness to James.
“How did you survive?”
“I didn’t get on the plane,” Anthony said simply. “I disappeared instead.”
He leaned back slightly, watching me carefully. “I had time. Enough to move things quietly.”
“Things?” I asked faintly.
“My assets. My shares. Everything she thought she’d inherit.”
My pulse thudded in my ears.
“I transferred most of it into offshore trusts,” he said. “Untraceable. Then I donated a significant portion to charity under my nephew’s name. The rest went to my niece. Valerie was left with what looked like money at first.”
My mouth felt dry. “How much.”
Anthony’s lips curved humorlessly. “Less than a hundred thousand.”
I thought of Valerie’s designer clothes. Her confidence. The way she strutted through my house like she owned it.
“You took everything,” I whispered.
“I took what she tried to steal with my life,” he corrected. “She doesn’t know yet. She still thinks I died wealthy.”
“And James?” I asked before I could stop myself.
Anthony’s eyes sharpened. “What about James.”
I swallowed. “They’re together. She’s pregnant. James thinks the baby is his.”
Silence stretched between us.
Anthony leaned back slowly, his expression darkening. “The baby isn’t James’s.”
I blinked. “What.”
“She was sleeping with my driver,” he said. “Ben. I found messages. Dates. Proof. James was convenient. Rich. Useful.”
My hands clenched in my lap.
“She tried to kill you,” I said hoarsely. “She cheated on you. And now—”
“And now she’s living in your house,” Anthony finished quietly.
Something in his voice cracked then. Not anger.
Regret.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I never wanted any of this to touch you.”
A bitter laugh escaped me. “That ship sailed.”
Anthony studied my face carefully. “You left him.”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
The single word carried weight. Validation I hadn’t realized I needed.
I took a breath, steadying myself. “She tried to kill you. Why come here. Why stay hidden.”
“Because I needed time,” he said. “Time to make sure she couldn’t hurt anyone else. Time to disappear completely before resurfacing.”
He paused. “I didn’t expect to see you.”
“Neither did I.”
For a moment, we just sat there, two people who had been betrayed by the same woman in different ways.
“I walked in on her and Evelyn,” I said suddenly. “Talking about the baby. About heirs. About replacing me.”
Anthony’s jaw clenched. “I’m sorry.”
“She enjoyed it,” I continued. “Every second. She wanted me to know I lost.”
Anthony’s gaze softened. “You didn’t lose.”
I let out a shaky breath. “I don’t know what I am anymore.”
“You’re free,” he said simply. “Even if it doesn’t feel like it yet.”
I looked at him then. Really looked.
Anthony Hart had died.
And the man sitting in front of me had been reborn.
Alive. Calm. Dangerous in a quiet way.
“You’re safe here,” he said after a moment. “No one is looking for me. No one will think to look for you.”
I nodded slowly.
I had come to this town believing I was alone.
I was wrong.
And for the first time since I walked out of my marriage, I wasn’t sure if that was a bad thing at all.
- Writer
