The Billionaire’s Dead Wife Returned

CHAPTER ONE

Sara

Three years.

One thousand and ninety-five days.

That was how long the world believed I had been dead.

The grand cathedral hadn’t changed at all. White roses lined the aisle in perfect symmetry, their fragrance mingling with the faint scent of expensive perfume drifting through the crowded hall.

Crystal chandeliers hung overhead, scattering warm light across polished marble floors while the country’s wealthiest families filled every seat, exchanging polite smiles and whispered gossip as they waited for the ceremony to begin. It was elegant. Luxurious. Beautiful.

Exactly the kind of wedding Damien Blackwood deserved.

I sat quietly in the third row, dressed from head to toe in black. My sunglasses hid my eyes, but not the storm raging behind them. Three years ago, I’d left this city in flames. Today, I’d returned to burn down something far more valuable than a building.

His future.

My gaze drifted to the altar. Damien stood there in a perfectly tailored black tuxedo, broad shoulders squared, his posture as commanding as ever. At thirty-two, he was still the youngest billionaire CEO in the country, a man whose name alone could make boardrooms fall silent. Success still clung to him like a second skin.

But something was different.

The cold confidence that used to make him seem untouchable was still there, yet it was wrapped around an exhaustion no amount of money could hide. His face looked sharper than I remembered, as though sleep had become a stranger. The deep blue eyes I had once loved from across a dinner table now carried a quiet emptiness.

For a brief, dangerous second…

Don’t.

You didn’t survive to remember the good

moments.

You came back to remember the last one.

The organ began to play. The heavy cathedral doors slowly opened, and every guest rose to their feet.

The bride appeared, breathtaking in an ivory gown embroidered with delicate crystals that shimmered beneath the lights. A long veil framed her smiling face as she walked arm in arm with her father, nervous excitement glowing in her eyes.

My chest tightened. She had no idea she was about to marry a man whose first wife had supposedly died in a tragic accident three years ago.

Or maybe… She knew.

Maybe she’d simply decided that billionaires came with complicated histories.

The priest smiled warmly as the bride reached the altar. “We are gathered here today to witness the union of Damien Blackwood and—”

The sharp scrape of a chair cut through the cathedral.

Mine.

The priest stopped speaking. The music died.

One by one, heads turned in my direction. I rose slowly, smoothing invisible wrinkles from my black dress before stepping into the aisle.

At first, confusion flickered across the guests’ faces.

Then came the whispers. “Who is she?”

“Is she from the bride’s family?”

“Why is she wearing black to a wedding?”

The bride frowned, tightening her grip on her bouquet as she watched me walk toward the altar.

My heels echoed steadily against the marble floor.

Every step carried the weight of three stolen years.

Three years of nightmares.

Three years of rebuilding.

Three years spent replaying the same night over and over until revenge became the only thing keeping me alive.

Damien finally looked at me. He didn’t recognize me. Why would he?

The Sara he’d buried had waist-length chestnut hair that danced whenever she laughed. Mine rested just above my shoulders now.

Three years had straightened my posture, hardened my expression, and erased every trace of innocence from my face.

I stopped just a few feet from the altar. The silence inside the cathedral became suffocating.

The priest cleared his throat uneasily.

“Miss, if there’s something you’d like to discuss, perhaps this isn’t the appropriate—”

I reached up. Slowly. Deliberately. My fingers slid beneath the frame of my sunglasses. I removed them.

The reaction was instant. A woman in the front pew gasped so loudly that several people turned toward her.

Every whisper blended into the next until only one name remained.

“Sara.”

“Mrs. Blackwood.”

“I attended her funeral.”

“So did I.”

“She died…”

The bride looked from me to Damien, her face draining of color. “Damien…What’s going on?”

Her voice trembled. He never answered. He couldn’t. His entire body had gone rigid. His eyes were fixed on mine, wide with complete disbelief.

His lips parted. The color disappeared from his face. “…Sara.” He barely breathed my name.

But in the silence… Everyone heard it. For years, I’d imagined this moment. I thought watching him panic would make me feel victorious.

Instead… It felt strangely empty. No. Not empty.

Incomplete. Because fear wasn’t enough. He needed to suffer. The same way I had.

I smiled. “You forgot to invite your first wife.”

The bride’s bouquet slipped from her fingers and hit the floor. A champagne glass shattered somewhere behind me.

Guests rose from their seats, some staring at me, others staring at Damien, everyone desperately trying to understand how a dead woman had just walked into a wedding.

I closed the remaining distance between us until only a few feet separated us. Up close… I could see it.

He wasn’t looking at me with guilt. He wasn’t looking at me with anger. He looked… broken. For the smallest fraction of a second, doubt crept into my chest.

Then I remembered the fire. The smoke. The explosion. The life that had been stolen from me.

The doubt disappeared.

Leaning forward just enough that only he could hear, I whispered, “I’ve come back to finish what you started.”

His breathing hitched. I didn’t wait for a reply.

I walked back down the aisle. And left behind absolute chaos.

Only after the cathedral doors closed behind me did I hear it.

“Cancel the wedding!” It was Damien’s voice.

Hoarse.

Desperate.

“Find her!”

I smiled.

Good.

The game had finally begun.