Dead Wife Walking_ The Billionaire's New Obsession

The baby monitor crackled to life just as I was reaching for another dusty law book on the top shelf. The soft static made me pause, my hand hovering over the leather spine of *Corporate Trust Law, Third Edition*. I'd installed the device in our home office just last week—not for a baby, of course, but to keep an ear on our study sessions. Lucas had been spending so much time in there lately, claiming he needed absolute quiet to prepare for his bar exam retake.

I smiled to myself, thinking how sweet it was that he was finally taking his career seriously. After three years of marriage, watching him drift from one half-hearted job to another, this newfound dedication felt like a gift. The trust fund from my grandmother would unlock when I turned thirty next month, and Lucas seemed determined to prove himself worthy of our future together.

The monitor's green light blinked steadily as I settled into the leather reading chair by the window. Outside, October rain drummed against the glass, creating rivulets that caught the amber glow of our neighbor's porch light. I opened the law book, hoping to surprise Lucas with my knowledge of estate planning when he emerged from his study marathon.

That's when I heard his voice, clear as if he were sitting beside me.

"Sarah, you're absolutely certain this will work?"

My finger froze on the page. Sarah? I knew that name—Sarah Mitchell, Lucas's childhood friend who'd recently moved back to town. They'd been inseparable growing up, practically joined at the hip until high school when she'd moved away with her family. I'd met her briefly at our wedding, a striking brunette with sharp green eyes who'd hugged Lucas just a little too long for my comfort.

A woman's voice responded through the static, crisp and confident. "Trust me, Lucas. I've done the research. A brake line failure looks completely accidental, especially on a car that old. Alice drives that route to work every morning—down Hillcrest, around those sharp curves by the ravine."

The book slipped from my numb fingers, hitting the hardwood floor with a dull thud that seemed to echo through my chest. My heart hammered against my ribs as the words registered, each syllable driving deeper into my consciousness like shards of ice.

Brake line failure. Alice. That was me.

"But what if she survives the crash?" Lucas's voice carried a note of concern that might have sounded caring to anyone else. To me, it sounded like disappointment.

"She won't." Sarah's tone was matter-of-fact, as if they were discussing weekend plans instead of my death. "That ravine is a hundred-foot drop, Lucas. Even if the impact doesn't kill her, the fire will. Cars that old, they go up like matchsticks."

I pressed my hand to my mouth, bile rising in my throat. The grandfather clock in the hallway ticked steadily, each second stretching into eternity as I sat frozen in the chair that had been my grandmother's, in the