The Widow’s Act

The newspaper headline hit Olivia like a cold knife,

“Widow Files to Declare Husband Dead.”

The photo beneath the bold letters showed Jessica, dressed in deep black, pearls around her neck, lips painted crimson as if grief itself could be glamorous. Her eyes looked swollen with tears, yet there was a smile hidden under them, a smile Olivia knew all too well.

Ethan’s face was beside hers in the photo. His smile frozen, his eyes alive only in memory.

Olivia’s breath caught.

Ethan wasn’t dead. He couldn’t be.

She had seen the bloody handprint on the floor, yes. She had screamed until her throat cracked, yes. But she also felt something deeper, that strange tether, the pull that told her he was out there somewhere. Hurt, maybe. Hunted, maybe. But not gone.

And yet, Jessica was building a coffin out of legal papers.

Jessica stood before the judge in her tailored black dress. Her voice trembled just enough to sound believable.

“My husband has been missing for months,” she said, lifting a lace handkerchief to her eye. “No body has been found, but there was blood. There was evidence of violence. I have no choice but to face the truth. I am a widow.”

She paused, lowering the handkerchief slowly. “And the estate cannot remain in a neglected state. His businesses, his properties, they need management. I only want to honor him by keeping his legacy alive.”

Behind her words lay sharp steel. Olivia, watching from the gallery, could almost hear the truth dripping from Jessica’s lips. She didn’t want to honor Ethan. She wanted to own him, even in death.

The judge leaned forward. “If there is no objection, I will consider the petition.”

Olivia rose, heart pounding. Her voice cut through the silence.

“There is an objection.”

All eyes turned to her.

Jessica’s head whipped around, her expression twisting, but then smoothing into false sweetness.

“Olivia,” she said softly, almost like a sister greeting another. “You look pale. You shouldn’t be here. This must be hard for you too.”

Olivia ignored her. “Ethan is not dead,” she said firmly, her voice shaking with fury and faith combined. “I can feel it. He is alive. And this” she gestured at Jessica’s black dress, “this act, this theater, it’s a lie.”

Murmurs filled the courtroom.

Jessica’s smile never wavered, but her eyes burned. “Darling, grief makes us all delusional. You were close to him, weren’t you? Sometimes the heart refuses to accept truth.”

But Olivia knew. She wasn’t delusional.

She was right.

That night, Olivia returned to her apartment. A storm gathered outside, rain streaking the windows. The air smelled of lightning. She sat at her desk, staring at the torn note she had found days ago, the one that had pulled her deeper into this nightmare.

It was never meant for you.

At first she thought the note was proof of Ethan’s betrayal, maybe a hidden life he had lived. But the ink smelled of Jessica’s perfume, heavy and sweet, like rotting flowers.

A whisper ran down Olivia’s spine, Jessica had planted it.

Her hand trembled as she pieced it together. The shooting, the handprint, the note, Jessica was always close, always pulling strings.

And if Jessica wanted Ethan declared dead, maybe it was because she knew exactly where he was.

Alive.

And maybe she knew because she was the one who pulled the trigger.

Olivia didn’t sleep. By midnight, she was pacing the apartment. By two, she was shaking with dread. And by three, she felt it, someone watching.

The lock clicked. The door creaked.

Jessica stepped inside, wearing a raincoat, her eyes glowing in the dim light.

“You should have stayed quiet,” she whispered, pulling a syringe from her pocket. The liquid inside shimmered faintly. “I told myself I’d give you one chance. But you can’t keep your nose out of things, can you? Always standing between me and what’s mine.”

Olivia backed away, but Jessica followed, calm, steady.

“What are you going to do?” Olivia whispered.

Jessica’s smile widened. “Take your life. Your face. Even your memories. Imagine it, I will walk as Olivia. I will carry your voice, your laugh, your love for Ethan. And when he looks at me, he won’t even know the difference. You’ll be erased.”

Her hand shot out, fast as lightning. Olivia fought back, slamming her against the wall. The syringe clattered across the floor. Jessica’s eyes flared with hatred.

“You think you’re stronger than me?” she hissed. “You’re nothing. I shot him. I put the bullet in Ethan myself. And he bled for me.”

The confession froze Olivia, but only for a moment.

Jessica lunged. They struggled, bodies slamming into furniture, glass shattering. The storm outside echoed their fight, thunder roaring like judgment.

At the last second, Olivia grabbed the syringe and jabbed it into Jessica’s arm. Jessica screamed, her body twisting, collapsing. Her eyes rolled back, but her smile remained.

“This isn’t over,” she hissed, before darkness swallowed her.

Hours later, Olivia woke to silence. Jessica was gone, leaving only broken glass and blood on the floor. Olivia’s hands trembled.

And then she heard it.

A knock.

She ran to the door, heart in her throat.

When she opened it, Ethan stood there. Pale. Wounded. But alive.

“Olivia,” he whispered, collapsing into her arms.

She held him, tears streaming down her face. His body was weak, trembling, but real.

“You’re alive,” she breathed.

He nodded weakly. “I tried to find you. She, Jessica… she did this. She shot me. Framed someone else. I barely got away.”

Olivia pressed her forehead to his. For the first time in weeks, she believed again. Believed in him.

She helped him into her room, laid him on the bed, and tended his wounds. His shirt was torn, blood dried across his skin. She wiped it gently, her hands trembling.

“You shouldn’t be moving,” she whispered.

“I couldn’t stay away from you,” he murmured, his voice low, rough. “Even half dead, I had to find you.”

Their eyes met. Something broke open between them, weeks of fear, doubt, betrayal all burning away until only raw need remained.

She kissed him. Desperate, hungry, alive.

His hands tangled in her hair, pulling her closer. She climbed onto the bed, straddling him, feeling his heartbeat under her. He groaned, the sound vibrating against her lips.

“You thought I betrayed you,” he whispered against her skin. “But it was always her. Always Jessica.”

“I know,” she gasped, her lips tracing his jaw, his neck. “I believe you now. I feel it.”

Clothes fell away in rushed movements. His body was hot against hers, his touch both tender and fierce. When he entered her, she cried out, clutching him like he was the only real thing in the world.

Their movements were frantic, desperate, as if making love could erase the lies, the wounds, the shadows Jessica had cast over them.

“Olivia,” he groaned, his forehead pressed to hers. “You’re mine. You’ve always been mine.”

“Yes,” she gasped, nails digging into his back. “Yours. Always, moaning in ecstasy,

Their bodies crashed together, wave after wave, until the storm outside seemed to fade. There was only them, tangled in heat, in love, in survival.

When it ended, they lay wrapped in each other, breathless, trembling.

“I’ll never doubt you again,” she whispered.

He kissed her softly. “And I’ll never let her take you.”

Just as sleep began to pull them under, the apartment lights flickered.

Olivia sat up, heart racing.

On the wall across from them, words appeared, scrawled in dripping red,

“YOU CAN’T KILL A SHADOW.”

Ethan froze. Olivia’s blood turned to ice.

Jessica was alive.

And she was coming back.