Presumed Dead & Legally Broke

I woke up again on the day my husband's supposed death went viral.

My phone wouldn't stop buzzing. Alert after alert filled the screen.

"Prominent garment manufacturer Nathan Mercer killed after car plunges off cliff during road trip. Vehicle destroyed by fire. Remains identified..."

I stared at the notification, slowly tightening my grip on the phone.

The first time I'd read that news, I'd cried until I passed out in the living room.

I'd spent an entire year as his widow.

Running his company. Paying his debts. Even supporting the two women he'd been keeping on the side.

A year later, he'd strutted back into my life with another woman.

Vanessa Shaw. His first love, who lived in another city.

He'd never died.

He'd bribed a man at the funeral home, Victor Lang, to tamper with the DNA identification, passing off an unidentified body as his own.

The plan was to collect $1.2 million in insurance and disappear abroad with Vanessa.

But in my first life, she'd collected the money herself.

Four months before his "death," he'd secretly made her his beneficiary.

By the time he came after me, she'd run off with every cent.

Empty-handed, he decided to blame me. Claimed Vanessa and I had conspired to defraud him, then dragged me into court.

The case went on for more than six months.

I lost everything.

The house. The car. The company. He took it all to settle the debts.

I walked away with nothing. And when my best friend, Grace Morgan, tried to help me fight the case, he hired men to break two fingers on her right hand.

When I died, on a hard bed in a rented room, my eyes never closed.

This time, I got out of bed, pulled on a jacket, and headed for the door.

Grace stood in the living room holding two coffees, looking dazed.

We'd met in college. She was also my partner in our clothing brand.

In my first life, helping me had cost her the use of her drawing hand. She'd never designed again.

Now she stared at me.

"Hannah? Where are you going? It's pouring outside."

"The insurance company."

I didn't look back.

She froze for a second, then put down the coffees and followed.

"I'm coming."

On the way, she kept glancing at my face as though she wanted to ask something.

I knew what it was.

My husband had just died. Why wasn't I crying? Why was I racing to the insurer?

I couldn't explain that I'd already lived this life.

All I could say was, "Grace, what if I told you Nathan isn't dead?"