“Pretend I’m your husband,” he whispered urgently, pulling me into a situation I didn’t understand. In that moment, everything shifted, and I realized my mother’s d🇪ath hadn’t been an accident at all but something far more deliberate. Purpose.

The word wife landed differently this time. He didn’t rush it. Didn’t exaggerate it. Just let it sit there, solid and unchallenged.

Victor’s jaw tightened. “We’re handling a legal matter.”

“Then you can handle it through proper channels,” the man said. “Not by cornering her at work.”

Something flickered in Victor’s expression then—not fear, exactly, but irritation laced with something sharper. “You don’t understand what’s at stake here.”

“No,” the stranger said quietly. “I think I do.”