CHAPTER 2: THE MAN WHO STOLE MY WIFE
1685 Words
Damian stood in the middle of the church long after Lucy disappeared through the doors. He could still see her in his mind—the black dress, the cold expression, the ring on her finger. Especially the ring. It was a small thing, but it had managed to hurt more than anything else that had happened that morning.
His bride was crying beside the altar.
The priest was staring at him like he expected an explanation.
The guests were whispering so loudly that it sounded like a market.
Damian finally turned to his bride.
“I’m sorry.”
She laughed bitterly through her tears.
“You're sorry?”
He didn't answer.
“You're standing here looking like you've just seen a ghost, and all you can say is you're sorry?”
Damian looked toward the church doors.
“She was my wife.”
“Was?”
He closed his eyes.
“Yes.”
The woman removed the engagement ring from her finger and placed it in his palm.
“I think you should find out whether your dead wife is really dead before you try marrying someone else.”
She walked away.
Damian didn't stop her.
He couldn't.
His entire world had just changed.
“Sir.”
His assistant, Marcus, hurried toward him.
Damian looked at him.
“Find Lucy.”
Marcus nodded.
“Yes, sir.”
“And find the man who was with her.”
Marcus hesitated.
“The tall one?”
Damian's eyes hardened.
“Yes. The tall one.”
“Any particular reason?”
Damian gave him a look.
Marcus immediately nodded.
“Right. Stupid question.”
He pulled out his phone.
“I'll start now.”
Damian walked outside.
Reporters were already waiting.
The moment they saw him, the questions started.
“Mr. Cross, is Lucy Cross alive?”
“Was her death a lie?”
“Who is the man she left with?”
“Did you know she survived?”
Damian kept walking.
“Mr. Cross!”
A reporter stepped in front of him.
“Did you bury the wrong woman?”
Damian stopped.
For the first time, he looked directly at the cameras.
His face was cold.
“I buried my wife.”
Then he walked away.
Across town, Lucy sat in the back of Lucien's car with her eyes closed.
Her hands were still shaking.
She had imagined meeting Damian hundreds of times.
In some of those dreams, she slapped him.
In others, she screamed at him.
Sometimes she imagined herself walking away without feeling anything.
She had been wrong.
Seeing him had hurt.
A lot.
Lucien glanced at her through the rearview mirror.
“You're crying.”
Lucy quickly wiped her cheek.
“No, I'm not.”
“You are.”
“It's the air-conditioning.”
Lucien looked at her.
“We're in a car with the windows closed.”
Lucy sighed.
“Fine. I'm crying.”
He reached toward the passenger seat and handed her a tissue.
“Thank you.”
“You're welcome.”
She wiped her face.
Then she looked at the ring on her finger.
“I shouldn't have gone.”
Lucien's expression softened.
“You needed to see him.”
“I needed to hate him.”
“And?”
Lucy stared out the window.
“I don't know.”
Lucien was quiet.
After a moment, he asked,
“Do you still love him?”
Lucy turned sharply.
“No.”
The answer came too quickly.
Lucien noticed.
She noticed that he noticed.
“Don't.”
“I didn't say anything.”
“You were thinking it.”
“I think a lot.”
“You're annoying.”
“I've been told.”
Lucy almost smiled.
Almost.
Then her phone buzzed.
She looked at the screen.
Unknown number.
A message appeared.
YOU SHOULD NOT HAVE GONE TO THE WEDDING.
Lucy's smile disappeared.
Another message arrived.
NOW HE KNOWS YOU'RE ALIVE.
Her fingers tightened around the phone.
Lucien noticed her expression.
“What happened?”
She handed him the phone.
He read the messages.
His face became serious.
“When did this start?”
“This morning.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“I didn't want you to worry.”
Lucien looked at her.
“Lucy, I spent five years making sure nobody found you.”
She looked away.
“I know.”
“And now someone is threatening you.”
“They didn't threaten me.”
“They told you not to go somewhere.”
Lucy frowned.
“That's not exactly a threat.”
Lucien handed the phone back.
“That's how threats usually start.”
The car became quiet.
Then Lucien's phone rang.
He answered.
“What?”
He listened.
His face changed.
“Are you sure?”
Another pause.
“Don't let anyone leave.”
He ended the call.
Lucy looked at him.
“What happened?”
“We have a problem.”
She sighed.
“Of course we do.”
“Someone broke into the house.”
Lucy sat upright.
“What?”
“They didn't steal anything.”
“Then what did they want?”
Lucien looked at her.
“You.”
When they arrived at the house, security guards were already waiting outside.
The front gate was open.
Lucy stepped out of the car.
Her stomach twisted.
“Was anyone hurt?”
“No, ma'am.”
Lucien walked beside her.
“Did you find anything?”
One of the guards handed him a small envelope.
“This was left on the front door.”
Lucien opened it.
Inside was a photograph.
Lucy's face went pale.
It was a picture of her standing outside the church that morning.
Someone had taken it from across the street.
She looked at the picture again.
“They were watching me.”
Lucien nodded.
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“I don't know yet.”
She turned the photograph over.
There were four words written on the back.
ASK DAMIAN ABOUT THE GRAVE.
Lucy's heart stopped.
“The grave?”
Lucien looked at her.
“What grave?”
“My grave.”
He went silent.
Lucy slowly looked toward the house.
“I need to know what happened.”
“You will.”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“I need to know now.”
Lucien stepped closer.
“Lucy, there are things you don't know about that night.”
She stared at him.
“You promised you would never lie to me.”
“I know.”
“Then don't start now.”
He looked away.
That was enough.
Lucy understood.
“You know something.”
Lucien didn't answer.
“You've always known something.”
“Lucy—”
“What happened the night I disappeared?”
He took a slow breath.
“You were in a car accident.”
“I know that.”
“You were badly injured.”
“I know.”
“You were taken to a private hospital.”
Lucy frowned.
“Who took me?”
Lucien looked at her.
“Damian.”
Her heart skipped.
“What?”
“He found you.”
Lucy stared at him.
“Then why did he say he never found me?”
Lucien's silence was answer enough.
Lucy stepped backward.
“He lied.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I don't know.”
“You're lying again.”
Lucien closed his eyes.
“Not everything is what you think.”
Lucy laughed bitterly.
“That's becoming everyone's favorite sentence.”
Before Lucien could respond, headlights appeared outside the gate.
A black car stopped.
Lucy immediately recognized it.
Damian stepped out.
Lucien moved in front of her.
Lucy grabbed his arm.
“Don't.”
Damian walked toward them.
His eyes were fixed on Lucy.
“I need to talk to you.”
Lucien stepped forward.
“You can talk from there.”
Damian ignored him.
“Lucy.”
She looked at Damian.
“What?”
“I found something.”
He held up a small file.
Lucy stared at it.
“What is that?”
“Your death certificate.”
She frowned.
“You already have that.”
Damian shook his head.
“No.”
He opened the file.
“This one was issued three days before the accident.”
Lucy froze.
“That can't be possible.”
“It shouldn't be.”
Lucien's expression changed.
Damian looked directly at Lucy.
“Someone registered your death before you were even supposed to die.”
Nobody spoke.
Lucy felt the ground shift beneath her.
“Who?”
Damian shook his head.
“I don't know.”
He handed her the document.
“But there's something else.”
Lucy looked down.
A name was printed at the bottom of the page.
Her father's signature.
Her eyes widened.
“My father?”
Damian nodded.
“He signed your death certificate.”
Lucy looked at him in disbelief.
“My father died before the accident.”
“I know.”
Her fingers began to tremble.
“Then who signed this?”
Damian stared at her.
“That is what I've been trying to find out.”
A sudden sound came from inside the house.
Crash!
Lucy jumped.
Lucien immediately turned toward the building.
Damian reached for her.
“Stay behind me.”
Lucy pulled away.
“Stop telling me what to do.”
Another crash came from upstairs.
Then the lights inside the house went out.
Everyone froze.
Lucien whispered,
“Someone is inside.”
Lucy looked at Damian.
For the first time since she returned, the anger in his eyes was gone.
There was only fear.
Not for himself.
For her.
Then, from somewhere inside the dark house, a woman's voice whispered,
“Lucy…”
Lucy stopped breathing.
She knew that voice.
She had heard it before.
Six years ago.
At her father's funeral.
Her lips parted.
“Elena?”
The voice laughed softly.
Then the lights came back on.
And a woman was standing at the top of the stairs.
Lucy’s sister was supposed to be dead.
But she was smiling..
- Writer
- chap_listContents
- likeADD