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Ch 20
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2026-09-13 22:44:44
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The Wife He Thought Was Dead Ch 21
“Are you sure this is wise?” Liam asked, his hands gripping the steering wheel. “Meeting your sister at this hour, at a secluded cabin outside the city… it feels like a setup. Especially after what you told me about seeing Maya.”Julian nodded slowly, his jaw set firm. “It is a setup. I know that. The message came from her phone, her voice, the code phrase only we two have ever known. Maya has her. She’s holding Elara hostage until I withdraw my testimony and hand over all the evidence against Edward.” He paused, his heart aching at the thought of his gentle, innocent sister caught in the crossfire of a war she never asked to fight. “If I don’t go, Maya will kill her. And if I go alone, she’ll kill us both. But I’m not walking into her trap empty-handed.”He tapped the small earpiece in his right ear. “Clarissa is monitoring every frequency within five miles. She knows we’re walking into danger. And she’s already positioned a tactical team at the perimeter. We’re not going to fight Ma
The Wife He Thought Was Dead Ch 20
The physical therapy clinic was quiet, filled only with the soft hum of exercise machines and the distant, rhythmic ticking of a wall clock. Julian gripped the metal bar in front of him, his knuckles white, sweat rolling down his temples as he forced his legs to bear his full weight. Every breath was a sharp, stinging reminder of the bullet that had torn through his chest, but he didn’t stop. He wouldn’t stop. This was the price of his second chance—pain, effort, the slow, stubborn rebuilding of a body that had been brought to the edge of death.“Good,” his therapist said, standing beside him with steady encouragement. “Another minute. You’re stronger than you think.”Julian didn’t answer. His gaze was fixed on his own reflection in the mirror opposite him—pale, scarred, dressed in simple gray sweatpants and a white t-shirt that clung lightly to his shoulders. The man looking back wasn’t the powerful, untouchable head of the Vance Group. He was just a man, fighting to stand on his own
The Wife He Thought Was Dead Ch 19
The press conference room was packed shoulder to shoulder, a sea of flashing cameras and shouting reporters that would have once bowed their heads the moment Julian Vance walked through the door. Today, they were here to tear him apart.Julian stood at the podium, his hands resting flat against the cool wood, his heart beating steady and strong beneath the scar on his chest. He had refused the shield of a private room or a written statement read by lawyers. He had walked in alone—no entourage, no bodyguards, no expensive suit. Just a simple black jacket, his face pale but his spine straight as steel. Every eye in the room was fixed on him, waiting for the arrogant tyrant they all knew to emerge. Instead, they saw a man who looked like he hadn’t slept in years, who carried the weight of his own sins on his shoulders like a cloak he could no longer hide.“Good morning,” he began, his voice calm, carrying clearly through the sudden hush. “I am not here to defend myself. I am not here to
The Wife He Thought Was Dead Ch 18
Two weeks had passed since Julian had first stood on his own two feet beside that hospital window. The private recovery suite no longer felt like a prison of white walls and beeping machines; it had become a sanctuary of quiet struggle, a place where he fought not just for his body, but for his very soul. The bandages around his chest had been changed for the last time that morning, leaving only a pale, jagged scar curving over his heart—a permanent, physical reminder of the bullet that had nearly ended his life, and the woman who had refused to let him go.He sat in the armchair by the window, dressed in simple, well-worn clothes that felt alien against his skin. For decades, he had worn nothing but tailored suits, fabrics so fine they had cost more than most people earned in a year. Now he wore a plain cotton shirt and trousers, and as he ran his fingers over the rough, honest fabric, he realized with a quiet shock that he preferred it. There was no pretense here. No mask of wealth
The Wife He Thought Was Dead ch 17
“Earn your redemption first, Tuan Vance.” Her words echoed in his mind, sharp yet gentle, cutting through the fog of exhaustion and pain that clung to him. “Then we’ll see if the future has a place for us.”He sank back against the pillows, his chest aching with every shallow breath. For so long, he had defined himself by power, by wealth, by the ironclad control he held over everything and everyone around him. Edward had systematically dismantled that control, poisoning his mind, twisting his memories, turning him into a weapon against the woman he loved more than life itself. And Julian had let it happen—his pride, his isolation, his desperate need to prove himself worthy of the Vance name had all been the cracks through which Edward had slipped. He had been a fool, a willing puppet dancing on strings he couldn’t even see. But now, the fog was gone. The neurotoxin had finally cleared from his system, leaving his mind sharp, clear, and painfully, devastatingly aware of every sin he h
The Wife He Thought Was Dead Ch 16
"Clear!"*THUMP!*Julian’s chest heaved off the hospital bed as two hundred joules of electricity surged through his body. The sharp, mechanical whine of the defibrillator charging again cut through the chaotic shouting of the trauma team. On the monitor, the terrifying flatline rippled for a fraction of a second before collapsing back into a dead, ominous horizontal stroke."No response! Charging to three hundred! Clear!"*THUMP!*Clarissa pressed both hands flat against the cold observation glass, her knuckles turning bone-white. The icy composure that had sustained her through corporate takeovers, staged accidents, and assassination attempts shattered into a thousand jagged pieces. She wasn't watching Tuan Vance, the estranged husband who had betrayed her, nor was she watching a corporate rival. She was watching the man who had taken a bullet to the chest just hours ago so she could breathe."Come on, Julian," she whispered, her voice choking on a sob that scraped her throat. "Don'
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