Lahat ng Kabanata ng After I Died, He Truly Panicked: Kabanata 401 - Kabanata 410

Regina’s POVThe morning sunlight streamed softly through the curtains as Mia bounced on the edge of my bed, her curls wild, her grin even wilder.“Mommy! It’s Saturday!” she announced as if I might have forgotten. “No school today!”I smiled, brushing her hair back. “I know, sweetheart.”“Can we see Ivan today?” she asked, voice full of that fragile hope I’d been dreading all week.I hesitated for a moment, but only a moment. “Yes,” I said finally. “I’ll text your daddy. Maybe we can go to the park.”The way her whole face lit up made the decision worth it.Within minutes, I was sending a message to Maxwell. Let’s take the kids to the park today. They miss each other.His reply came almost instantly. I’ll bring Ivan in an hour. Meet you at the lakeside park.As I got Mia ready, I found myself smiling despite everything, the arrests, the tension at home, the constant scrutiny from the press. For once, I just wanted a normal morning. Just us.The park was alive with laughter and sun. C

Maxwell’s POVThe late afternoon light poured across my office desk, painting the polished wood in shades of gold and shadow.I hadn’t moved from my seat in hours, the same file still open before me, the same unanswered questions circling my mind like vultures.Frank Veyron’s arrest had thrown everything into chaos. For days, the media wouldn’t stop circling like sharks, eager for blood, the Veyron patriarch accused of being complicit in the accident that left my father in a coma.And now, every whisper seemed to circle back to me. Everyone wondering the same thing.Had I been the one who tipped the police? Was this Maxwell Chamberlain’s revenge?The thought made my stomach turn.I’d given my word, to Regina, to myself, that I wouldn’t go down that road again.But someone had made that call. Someone who wanted to stir everything up just when things were finally starting to settle.I rubbed my temples and picked up the phone. “Jonathan,” I said when he answered, “come to my office. Now

Regina’s POVSilence stretched, that same awful, suffocating silence that filled the room every time someone told a half-truth.Lindsay folded her arms. “You’ve been lying about your memory loss since the accident.”He nodded once, slow, resigned. “Yes.”It wasn’t relief that came after his confession, not the kind you’d expect. It was anger. A deep, bitter anger that made my chest ache.“Why?” I asked. “Why would you do that?”He rubbed his hands over his face. “You wouldn’t understand.”“Try me,” I said.He hesitated, then dropped his hands and met my eyes. “Because I was told to.”“Told to?” Lindsay repeated incredulously. “By who?”Frederick let out a humorless laugh. “No. My father.”Of course, Mr. Harper was behind this entire thing. He had threatened Maxwell and me to forget about the whole thing and how he would make sure Morgana stayed far away from us.I wasn't going to believe a word that came out of his mouth though. Too many people had promised me too many things, but the

Regina’s POVIt still felt strange to call this place home.The Chamberlain estate was beautiful, of course, immaculate lawns, the scent of roses always faint in the halls, every surface polished to a quiet shine, but beauty wasn’t warmth.The walls here carried too much history, too many echoes of raised voices and silences that lasted for days.But tonight, the house felt almost peaceful. Mia’s laughter floated from the playroom where she and Ivan were building a fort out of couch cushions.I could hear the soft rhythm of their chatter, Mia’s bossy instructions, Ivan’s occasional giggle, and I smiled to myself as I folded laundry in the living room.Maxwell had gone out earlier that evening, something about needing to meet Jonathan to go over some paperwork.He’d kissed my forehead on his way out, told me not to wait up. I didn’t ask for details; lately, there were always details he couldn’t quite share yet.I was just setting aside one of Ivan’s tiny shirts when the doorbell rang.

Regina’s POVBy the time we all convened in the conference room at Maxwell’s office, the windows were already throwing long, late-afternoon shadows across the table.The air tasted faintly of coffee and the metallic hush that comes when too many minds are doing the same hard work at once.Maxwell sat at the head of the table, his posture calm and predatory, the look I’d come to both loathe and trust.Jonathan Reeves and Patel were flanking him on one side, suits pressed, faces businesslike. Patricia was on my side, already making notes on her tablet.Frederick arrived last, looking thinner than I’d remembered, but when his eyes found mine there was no hesitation. He sat down stiffly, then folded his hands in his lap.I swallowed, felt my pulse in my throat, and said the words I’d spent the last week rehearsing in my head: “We need to reopen Morgana’s case. We need to prove her insanity plea was faked.”Silence held for a beat, a small, fragile thing, the moment in a storm when lightni