His Dead Wife: No Longer the Surrogate Bride

“Hide.”

The word sliced through the darkness like a blade.

Althea Johnson pressed her back against the cold concrete wall, forcing her trembling body to still. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears—too loud, too reckless—while she squeezed her eyes shut, praying fervently and willed herself to disappear into the shadows. The mansion behind her loomed like a sleeping beast, each window a watching eye.

Footsteps. Voices. Guards sweeping the grounds.

She held her breath.

Then—

“Alright, let’s go.”

A hand grabbed hers—warm, firm, and urgent. Isabelle dragged her forward, and Althea followed blindly, her free hand instinctively shielding her stomach. She rubbed small circles over it, almost a silent apology, almost a promise.

“Belle… you’ll get in trouble for this,” she whispered achingly, her breath fogging in the cold night air.

A twig snapped behind them.

Althea whirled around, pulse spiking and turning paler. “W-Who—?”

“It’s me.”

Jessica Sandoval stepped out from behind a tree, her face streaked with sweat and worry. Relief flooded Althea so quickly her knees nearly buckled. She threw herself into Jessica’s arms, tears spilling over as she hugged her friend tightly.

“Cry later!” Isabelle hissed, gripping her shoulders hard enough to hurt. “You need to move!”

She shoved Althea toward the jagged gap in the estate wall—a breach barely wide enough for a single person to scrape through. Ivy hung in ripped strands around it, as though someone had clawed their way out before.

“You must go, Thea!” Isabelle’s voice cracked despite her hard expression. “Dom will have noticed you’re gone. The whole family will be looking. You know that.”

“Belle… how can I—”

“Live.” Isabelle’s voice broke. She reached into her jacket and pressed a thick envelope into Althea’s shaking hands. “Live and enjoy your life. Don’t look back. I'm going to be fine. Don't worry.”

Althea stared into her friend’s eyes, her only ally—a final, desperate plea—and nodded.

Jessica pulled her through the opening, the rocks scraping her arms, cold mud greeting her knees. The two women splashed into the shallow creek running outside the wall, the moonlight their only guide. Water soaked their shoes; branches whipped against their faces. Every sound felt magnified, every shadow a threat.

Behind them, the estate swallowed itself in darkness.

Until—

Lights flared. One by one the mansion’s exterior beams snapped on, flooding the grounds in white.

They knew.

“Jess…” Althea choked out, gripping her friend’s arm.

“I know.” Jessica dragged her the last few feet toward the bushes. “Almost there.”

They dove into the waiting car, Jessica fumbling only once before the engine roared to life. Gravel spat from the tires, the vehicle lurching forward onto the dirt road.

Althea looked into the side mirror.

The estate glowed like a lighthouse in the distance—searchlights sweeping, silhouettes running. They were mobilizing.

For her.

Jessica’s hand found hers. “Just one more thing to do, Thea,” she said softly, determination threading through her voice. “Then… you’ll finally be free.”

Althea squeezed her friend’s hand, tears streaming silently. Relief warred with fear, and beneath it all… a fragile spark of hope. She placed her hand on her stomach again, inhaling deeply.

“Yes,” she whispered into the rushing night. “Free.”

Hours later, under the fluorescent flicker of a roadside motel, exhaustion overcame her. Jessica secured a small room for them at the back, bolting the lock twice, checking the window three times. Only when she was certain the world outside was quiet did she allow Althea to collapse onto the narrow bed.

“You need to sleep,” Jessica said. "I'll be fine at the couch and will keep watch."

Althea only nodded and turned to one side, her back to Jessica. She could feel her friend’s worried gaze on her, but she couldn’t bear to meet it—not when her chest felt like it was being crushed by memories she fought so hard to bury.

Sleep should have been a refuge.

Instead, it was a battlefield.

She feared closing her eyes. Doing so would drag her back into the nightmares that had stalked her since the day she became Mrs. Dominic Valtieri.

Dominic.

Even the name tightened something in her lungs.

His handsome, unreadable face haunted her from the very first moment she saw him—impossibly magnetic, impossibly cold. Just like the rest of the women. She didn’t stand a chance the moment his gaze locked on her. She didn’t know then that a single glance could become a cage.

She still remembered the voice he used when he first approached her—low, certain, a promise and a command woven into one. Words that felt like warmth at the time, but in hindsight were chains disguised as silk. Words that pulled her willingly into his world… until she realized too late that she would never be allowed to leave it.

He treated her kindly in the beginning.

He made her fall in love with him and made her believed he did as well.

But all of that shattered on their wedding night.

Althea squeezed her eyes shut, forcing away the memory before it took shape. Her breath hitched, her fingers curling into the thin bedsheet as she fought the tremor crawling up her spine.

She refused to relive that.

Not now.

Jessica shifted behind her, quietly—trying not to intrude, but unable to hide her worry. Althea couldn’t blame her. She looked calm on the outside, but inside she was unraveling thread by thread.

She clutched her stomach protectively, seeking the one thing that kept her from shattering completely.

You’re safe now, she told herself. He won’t find you. Not tonight. And he will not find out.

But the lie trembled as she whispered it in her mind.

Because deep in her bones, Althea knew one thing with chilling certainty:

Dominic Valtieri does not lose.

And he does not let go.

Not until he gets back what he believes is his.