All Chapters of After I Died, He Truly Panicked: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

Morgana’s POVThe investigator gathered his papers and stood up from the couch. “I appreciate you taking the time to review this with me, but I really must speak with Mr. Chamberlain directly now.”“Maxwell isn’t home. He’s in his office.”“Then I’ll meet him there.”“Please,” I said, rising quickly to block his path to the door. “You have to understand—this information will devastate him.”“I have a professional obligation—”“But think about what this knowledge will do to him!” My voice rose with desperation. “Learning that Regina was tortured while pregnant, that he was manipulated into abandoning her—it could destroy his mental health completely.”The investigator did not stop. “I’m sorry, but I have to tell him.”I followed him outside, my mind racing for any way to stop this catastrophe. Once Maxwell learned the truth, he would start connecting dots.He would remember who had brought him all that evidence five years ago. Who had access to their home and finances. Who had been the

Maxwell’s POVIvan’s bedroom felt safe compared to the tension downstairs. I watched my son kneel beside his bed, carefully arranging the wooden blocks we’d rescued from the living room. His small fingers moved with the same care I remembered from my own childhood building projects.“See, Daddy? The castle needs a really strong foundation,” Ivan explained, placing rectangular blocks in a perfect square. “Otherwise the whole thing falls down.”“That’s very smart thinking,” I said, settling cross-legged beside him on the carpet. “What made you think of that?”“I figured it out myself. Buildings need good support or they get wobbly.”I smiled. My son really was a natural at architecture.I helped him stack the next layer, but my mind kept drifting to Morgana’s panicked face downstairs. Her obvious fear when she'd realized Ivan had been home during whatever meeting she'd tried to hide. The way she'd desperately wanted to keep him away from me afterward."Ivan," I said carefully, "when you

Regina’s POVThe dining room glowed with candles from the candelabra, making our family dinner feel both festive and somber.Tomorrow, Alexander would go under the knife to save my daughter’s life.Tonight, we pretended everything was normal.“More potatoes, Mia?” Mom asked, hovering over my daughter with the serving spoon.“Yes, please!” Mia held up her plate. “Can Uncle Alexander have extra too? He needs to be strong for tomorrow.”Alexander smiled—a rare, genuine expression that transformed his usually serious face. “Thank you, little warrior. We need to keep our strength up.”He’d been cutting Mia’s food into perfect bite-sized pieces without her asking. My usually impatient brother, who got annoyed when board meetings ran five minutes over, was taking infinite care with a child’s dinner.“Tell us about the dragons again,” Father said, settling back in his chair with his wine. “The ones in your castle.”Mia launched into an elaborate story about Sir Firebreath and his dragon famil

Regina’s POVThe surgical waiting room clock read 2:47 PM when Frederick pushed through the double doors. His green scrubs were wrinkled, his surgical cap still tied around his neck. Four hours and eighteen minutes since they’d wheeled Alexander away.I shot up from my chair. “How is he?”“Perfect.” Frederick’s tired face broke into a genuine smile. “Complete success. The kidney extraction was flawless. No complications, clean removal, optimal organ quality.”Mother collapsed back into her chair, pressing her hands to her mouth. Father’s shoulders sagged with relief. Mia looked up from her coloring book, crayon poised in mid-air.“Can we see Uncle Alexander now?” she asked.“In a few minutes, sweetheart. He’s still waking up from the anesthesia.”We followed Frederick down the sterile corridor to recovery. Alexander looked small in the hospital bed, pale against the white sheets. Tubes and monitors surrounded him, but his chest rose and fell steadily. The surgery site was covered with

Morgana’s POVI sat in my car outside the office building, hands gripping the steering wheel until my hands ached. The quarterly reports Maxwell had asked me to review lay untouched on the passenger seat. I couldn’t concentrate on spreadsheets and profit margins.Not when Regina Veyron was out there somewhere, probably plotting our next humiliation.My phone rang. Unknown number.“This is Morgana.”“Ms. Faye? This is the researcher you contracted regarding competitive intelligence.”My pulse quickened. The corporate spy I’d hired weeks ago to investigate Phoenix Design Studio. I’d forgotten he was still digging.“What did you find?”“I’ve found something explosive about the Phoenix situation,” he said, excitement and greed dripping from his voice. “But this information is worth significantly more than our original agreement.”“What kind of information?”“The kind that could change everything, but I need additional payment before I reveal details. Triple our original fee.”Triple. That