Todos los capítulos de His Dead Wife: No Longer the Surrogate Bride: Capítulo 61 - Capítulo 70

Dominic was twelve when he learned that walls could whisper.He did not know it then unlike the way adults knew it. It was not fear that had sharpened into instinct.But something in him had stirred that night, making him unsettled and alert, like an animal sensing weather long before the clouds arrived.The Valtieri estate slept in layers.The outer gates first followed by the corridors.Then silence so thick it felt deliberate.Dominic lay awake in his bed, staring at the carved ceiling, listening to the hum of a house that never truly rested. He could not yet sleep because his father hadn’t passed by his room yet to say goodnight.Even as a child, he knew this place breathed differently at night. Doors opened and closed with muted precision while rotation of guards came in disciplined steps. Voices carried when they weren’t meant to, slipping through stone and wood and secrets.That night, the whispers reached him.They came through the vent near his window that is low, urgent, unf

Dominic woke with a gasp.His body jerked upright as if pulled from deep water, breath tearing into his lungs, heart slamming against his ribs with violent insistence.The room was dark, darker to be within the walls of the Devereaux complex, where emergency lighting never truly slept. For a brief, disorienting moment, he was twelve again.Small.Trapped in a bed too large for his body, staring at a ceiling carved with symbols he had never been taught to read.The whispers still clung to him.He’s grown soft.He’s planning to leave.It has to be tonight.Dominic dragged a hand down his face, fingers trembling, breathing heavily.“F8ck.” He muttered as he felt his heart beating rapidly.He closed his eyes and start to calm himself, inhaling slowly and deeply before releasing them. He stayed still for the next few minutes until he felt himself getting calm.

The gala had been on Althea’s calendar way before the bloodlines resurfaced and names were dragged back into the light.She decided not to attend and had argued against attending.Althea, at first was quiet about it and finally became stubborn.Helena had listened, arms crossed, gaze steady.“Althea, again, I am saying that you can’t disappear now.” Helena said clearly. “Your absence will be interpreted as guilt or fear. Neither of the two, serves you.”Althea knew she was right.The event that will be hosted by the Devereaux Foundation is an international medical philanthropy gala. It’s not merely ceremonial but political. Attendance signaled legitimacy while her presence their tonight reaffirmed protection.Finally, seeing Helena’s point, Althea finally stood before the mirror that evening, smoothing her dress with hands that had stitched bodies back together but now trembled over silk.“If you don’t feel like smiling, then don’t.” Helena told her gently from the doorway. “Just don’

The terrace doors closed behind Althea with a quiet finality, leaving Dominic at the balcony.The night air pressed against him, sharp and unyielding. It’s carrying the distant hum of the city below.Inside, the gala continued seamlessly as if nothing had fractured on that balcony, as if carefully curated lives hadn’t momentarily cracked open.He gripped the stone railing, jaw clenched, pulse hammering in his ears.She had walked away.Dammit, Dominic thought darkly.She did not storm off or was even shaken.She had chosen to leave him standing there, anger still burning in his chest with nowhere to land.For a fleeting moment, Dominic considered going after her. He was set on pushing past his pride, the years of restraint, past the silent war lines he had sworn never to cross publicly. But the image of her back, straight and resolute as she disappeared through the doors, stopped him.She had meant it.You have no right to be jealous. She told him, the words replaying with surgical pr

The drive back to the Devereaux complex was silent.Not the familiar, companionable silence Michael was used to after long operations or late diplomatic functions. The kind punctuated by shared exhaustion, muted humor, or the quiet satisfaction of having survived another evening intact.Tonight, the silence was deliberate and self-imposed. Dense with everything he had chosen not to say.The car he was in, moved smoothly through the city, tires whispering against asphalt as private roads peeled away from public ones.Gates immediately recognized the vehicle and checkpoints opened without question. Access, immediately and always granted.That was how it had always been.Privilege had never felt so hollow.Michael sat in the backseat, jacket folded with care beside him, tie loosened but not removed. Appearances mattered.Even now.Especially now.Habit had trained him too well to abandon it when it counted. Outside, the city lights blurred into streaks of gold and white. He watched them