After He Faked His Death, I Married My Father's Best Friend

I wasn't supposed to be home.

If Mrs. Carter hadn't canceled her luncheon at the last minute, I would have spent another afternoon smiling politely beside my mother-in-law while she accepted sympathy for a son who wasn't actually dead.

But life has a strange sense of humor.

Because for the first time in a year, I came home early.

And for the first time in a year, I learned the truth.

I stepped into the house quietly.

The mansion was empty except for my mother-in-law.

At least, that's what I thought.

As I walked past the study, I heard laughter.

Not crying.

Not grieving.

Laughter.

I paused.

The door wasn't fully closed.

"...you should stay in Paris a little longer," my mother-in-law said.

I froze.

Paris?

The next voice belonged to a woman.

Warm.

Serena.

My husband's childhood friend.

The woman my husband always described as "practically family."

The woman who somehow spent every holiday with us before his death.

The woman my mother-in-law adored.

Serena laughed.

"I can't stay forever."

"Why not?"

"Because Chloe's birthday is next month."

My mother-in-law immediately sounded excited.

"Oh, are you really coming back?"

"Of course."

I heard the sound of a wine glass.

Then Serena continued.

"And this time I'm bringing my boyfriend."

My mother-in-law gasped.

Finally.

"You've been hiding him for over a year."

"I know."

"You never even told me his name."

Serena laughed again.

"You'll meet him soon enough."

My mother-in-law lowered her voice.

"Is he finally ready to come home?"

For some reason, those words made my stomach tighten.

Home?

Why did she say it like that?

Serena was silent for a moment.

Then she answered.

"He's getting there."

My mother-in-law chuckled.

"Good. Very good."

Something felt wrong.

Deeply wrong.

I couldn't explain why.

Then Serena said something that made my blood run cold.

"How's Vivian?"

My name.

The conversation immediately became interesting.

My mother-in-law laughed.

Actually laughed.

"Still stupid."

The air left my lungs.

"Really?"

"She's still taking care of us."

Serena burst out laughing.

"Oh my God."

"I know."

My mother-in-law sounded delighted.

"She still visits Ethan's grave every month."

Another round of laughter.

My fingers tightened around the shopping bag in my hand.

"I almost feel bad for her," Serena said.

"No, you don't."

"No. I really don't."

Both women laughed.

I felt sick.

One year.

For one year, I had cried for my husband.

For one year, I had paid every bill in this house.

For one year, I had listened to his mother tell me that I owed her family because Ethan died trying to reach me after my miscarriage.

And now they were laughing.

At me.

"She's getting weaker too," my mother-in-law said.

"Good."

My heart skipped.

Good?

"What about the supplements?" Serena asked.

"They're working."

I stopped breathing.

The supplements.

Every morning for six months, Margaret insisted I take vitamins.

The vitamins she personally prepared.

The vitamins she claimed would help me recover from grief.

My hands started shaking.

"What did the