All Chapters of Divorcing my dead sister’s husband : Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

The conference room walls seemed to close in as I stared at the mockups across the table. Thomas leaned over my shoulder, his cologne something woodsy with hints of citrus invading my space in a way that wasn't entirely unwelcome."What do you think about the color scheme?" he asked, his voice low enough that only I could hear, despite three other team members sitting across from us.I shifted slightly, creating an inch of distance between us. "The blue is too corporate. The Wakefield account needs something more approachable, something that speaks to families."Thomas nodded, reaching across me to slide one of the boards closer. His arm brushed against mine, and I forced myself not to react. This was becoming a pattern of these small, probably innocent contacts that sent unwanted electricity through my veins."Maybe something warmer?" He studied my face rather than the mockup."Exactly." I pulled my notepad closer, scribbling down alternatives. "Amber tones, maybe with accents of dee

The presentation had gone perfectly. Three hours of strategic planning, market analysis, and creative concepts that had the Wakefield executives practically salivating. By the time we walked out of their boardroom, Thomas and I both knew we'd landed the account. "Dinner to celebrate?" Thomas had asked as we rode the elevator down to the lobby. "Rain check?" I'd replied, exhaustion suddenly hit me like a wall. "I think I need to decompress." He'd nodded, understanding as always. "Of course. Good work today, Daniela." That was four hours ago. Now I was lying in my hotel bed, staring at the ceiling, wide awake despite being bone tired. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Thomas catching me when I stumbled, felt his hands on my arms, and remembered the way he'd looked at me like I was something precious. I rolled over and checked the clock: 1:47 AM. Through the connecting door, I could hear movement in Thomas's room—footsteps, the sound of the mini fridge opening, a chair scraping aga

The flight back from Chicago felt different. Thomas and I sat closer than necessary, his hand finding mine during takeoff. We talked quietly about the Wakefield account, but underneath every professional conversation was an awareness of what had almost happened at dinner."Detective Rivera said she'd meet us at three," I said, checking my phone as we descended into the city."I'll drive you," Thomas offered. "If you want company.""I'd like that."His fingers squeezed mine gently. Whatever Detective Rivera had to tell me, I wouldn't be facing it alone.We landed at noon, and by 2:30, I was sitting in Thomas's car outside the police station, my stomach in knots."You don't have to come in," I told him."I want to. Unless you'd rather handle it alone."I shook my head. "I don't want to do anything alone anymore."Detective Rivera was waiting in the same conference room where I'd given my initial statement about Alex pushing me down the stairs. She was a small woman with kind eyes and gr

The elementary school feels smaller than I remember. Thomas walks beside me through the hallway lined with colorful student artwork, his presence both comforting and complicated. After last night's conversation with Janet, I almost called to tell him not to come. But when I woke up this morning with my hands shaking at the thought of facing this alone, I couldn't bring myself to do it."Second thoughts?" Thomas asks quietly as we approach the main office."About a hundred of them."He stops walking and turns to face me. "We can leave right now if you want."I shake my head. "No. I need to hear what she has to say."Mrs. Patterson, Sam's fourth-grade teacher, meets us in the principal's office. She's younger than I expected, maybe early thirties, with kind eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses. The principal, Mr. Hendricks, gestures for us to sit at a small conference table."Mrs. Harrison—" Mrs. Patterson begins."It's Ms. Reyes now," I correct her. "I've gone back to my maiden name.""Of c

The first sign that something is wrong comes on a Tuesday morning. I'm walking into Prism when my phone buzzes with a text from an unknown number.*Nice weekend at the lake house. Thomas seems to enjoy what's mine.*My blood turns to ice. I stop walking so abruptly that someone behind me mutters an annoyed comment as they sidestep around me.There's a photo attached. Thomas and me on his deck, his arm around me as we watch the sunrise. The angle suggests it was taken from the water, maybe from a boat with a telephoto lens.My hands shake as I screenshot the message and immediately call Detective Rivera."He was watching us," I tell her when she answers. "Alex was at the lake somehow.""Are you sure it was him?""Who else would it be?" I'm practically whispering as I duck into the stairwell. "He knows about Thomas. He knows we were together.""I need you to forward me that message immediately. Don't respond to it, don't delete it. We'll trace the number.""What good will that do? He's