All Chapters of Back from the Grave for His Bride: Chapter 1 - Chapter 8

POV: Dr. Clara BennettThe snow in Chicago did not fall softly tonight. It whipped sideways off Lake Michigan, cutting through the dark streets like broken glass and locking the city in a sheet of ice. Inside the emergency room of Chicago General, the old heating system hummed a low, erratic rhythm, barely keeping the cold off the white tile floors.I pulled off my rubber gloves, my fingers aching from three straight hours in Surgery Room Four. My back was stiff, a dull throbbing that had stayed with me through every double shift this winter.“You look like a ghost, Clara,” Sophie said, sliding a paper cup of black coffee across the nurse’s station counter.I took the cup with both hands, letting the heat seep into my cold palms. I gave my best friend a tired smile. “It was a brutal shift. The icy roads brought in four bad accidents before midnight.”“Well, your shift ended twenty minutes ago,” Sophie reminded me gently, leaning against the desk with genuine concern in her eyes. “And

POV: Dr. Clara BennettThe ballroom was so silent you could hear the soft fizzing of spilled champagne soaking into the heavy carpet.Beside me, Harrison’s body went rigid. His hand dropped from my waist, his knuckles turning stark white as he gripped his glass so tightly I thought the crystal would shatter in his palm.“Tristan…” Harrison gasped, his usual smooth, controlled voice cracking down the middle. “You… you were buried three years ago.”Tristan took a deliberate step into the room. His polished leather shoes clicked against the hardwood floor with a slow, agonizing cadence. He didn’t look at the crowd of frozen high-society onlookers. He didn’t look at his cousin, Harrison.His stormy gray eyes were fixed entirely on me.“Reports of my death were severely exaggerated,” Tristan said. His voice was a deep, low baritone that vibrated through the quiet room, carrying an edge of cold steel that sent a shiver straight down my spine. “It turns out, Harrison, I had a very talented d

POV: Dr. Clara BennettHarrison’s fingers gripped the steering wheel of his Mercedes so tightly his knuckles turned gray under the yellow streetlights of Lake Shore Drive. The silence inside the car was thick, heavy, and suffocating.“He’s bluffing,” Harrison muttered, his voice flat as he stared at the frozen asphalt ahead. “The board won’t listen to a dead man. I’ve run Sterling Logistics for three years. I brought the revenue up fifteen percent.”I turned my head to look at him, keeping my arms crossed over my silk gown. “Harrison, if he has proof of who he is”“I don’t care who he is!” Harrison snapped, slamming his palm against the leather wheel.I flinched back against the passenger seat.Immediately, Harrison let out a heavy breath, pulling the car to a stop at a red light. He reached across the console, wrapping his fingers around my hand. His touch was cold, precise, and tight.“Forgive me, Clara,” he said softly, smoothing his thumb over the giant diamond on my ring finger.

POV: Dr. Clara BennettMy skin prickled where Tristan’s breath had touched it long after he stepped out of the administrative suite. He left as quietly as he had arrived, leaving Chief Miller starry-eyed over a signed three-million-dollar check and me standing in the center of the room with a pulse that refused to slow down.I spent the rest of my shift moving like a machine, trying to drown out the memory of his gray eyes. But every time I walked past the nurses' station, those three crates of white orchids served as a silent, elegant reminder: Tristan Sterling is watching.By seven in the evening, I stepped out of the hospital entrance into a driving sleet.A sleek black town car was idling at the curb. The rear door swung open, and Harrison stepped out into the freezing slush, holding a massive golf umbrella over his head. His tailored coat was pristine, but the shadows under his eyes were dark and bruised."Get in, Clara," he said, his tone clipped, missing its usual warm polish.