Getting Back His ‘Dead’ Wife novel Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Once I got discharged, I went straight back to the villa.

Hands shaking a little, I opened the safe.

Pulled out the yellowed divorce agreement.

Kendrick’s signature stared up from the bottom right corner-dated three years ago.

Back then he’d sat across from me, voice gentle, almost kind.

“Sign it, Tilda. Let’s end this peacefully.”

I’d lost it completely.

Ripped the papers into pieces.

Threw them in his face while tears streamed down mine.

Screamed that I’d rather die than sign.

And yet… here it was.

I’d taped every single shred back together.

Kept it like some twisted keepsake.

I took a deep breath.

Picked up the pen.

Signed my name-slow, deliberate strokes.

Done.

I snapped a photo. Sent it to my lawyer.

“Please process the divorce ASAP. Stick to every term exactly”

Then I started packing.

It took one night to empty out the home I’d lived in for years.

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Chapter 3

Suitcases by the door.

Jewelry, clothes, the little things I’d bought to make the place feel like ours.

All gone.

Kendrick didn’t come home until the next night.

He walked in carrying a fancy gift bag, smiling like nothing was wrong.

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“Tilda, look what I got you. Limited-edition bracelet from your favorite brand. Had it flown in from abroad.”

He saw me standing by the window, staring out.

“You’ve been cooped up for days. There’s a cocktail party tonight. Let me take you-get some fresh air.”

I didn’t take the bag.

Just looked at him.

Only then did he notice the suitcases lined up against the wall.

“What’s that?”

“My old stuff,” I said quietly. “Decided to donate it.

He stared.

Then forced a smile.

“Come on. The party will be good for you.”

The cocktail party was in the ballroom of a five-star hotel.

The second we walked in, heads turned,

Kendrick’s arm around my waist, his smile perfect, introducing me to partners and clients.

We looked like the ideal couple-elegant, in love, untouchable.

I smiled. Nodded. Said all the right things.

Inside, everything felt hollow. Frozen.

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Chapter 3

Then a waitress came over with a tray of champagne.

Lavinia.

Before anyone could react, a sound like metal snapping-

The massive crystal chandelier above us broke free.

Plummeted straight toward Kendrick.

Lavinia moved first.

Threw herself at him.

Pushed with everything she had.

The chandelier crashed down.

Glass everywhere.

Lavinia crumpled into a pool of blood. Unconscious.

“Lavi!”

Kendrick’s scream ripped through the room.

He dropped to his knees beside her.

Face white with terror.

He jerked his head up. Eyes wild, red.

“Call an ambulance! NOW!”

He scooped her up-blood soaking his shirt-and ran for the exit.

In his rush he slammed into me.

Hard.

I stumbled.

Forehead cracked against the marble column.

Pain exploded.

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Chapter 3

Warm blood trickled down my face.

I grabbed the column to stay upright.

Wiped my forehead.

Fingers came away red.

Kendrick didn’t stop. Didn’t look back.

Just carried Lavinia out like the building was on fire.

I stood there-blood dripping, head spinning-while people screamed and ran around me.

Eventually I made it home.

The villa was empty. Cold.

I washed the blood off in the bathroom sink.

Stared at my reflection-pale, bruised, bandaged.

Then sat on the couch.

Pulled out my phone.

A video was trending.

Kendrick at the old cathedral outside the city.

The one with the 999 stone steps up the mountain.

They say if you climb them with a true heart, your prayer gets answered.

In the video he’d stripped off his blood-soaked suit jacket.

Just a white shirt now.

Face solemn. Eyes steady.

Climbing step after step.

A reporter shoved a mic in his face halfway up.

“Mr. Salter-who are you praying for? Your family?”

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0:0

Chapter 3

Kendrick looked straight into the camera.

Voice soft but firm.

“For the one I love the most.

I hope she stays safe.”

The one he loved the most.

I closed the video.

Chest tight. Suffocating.

The pain came back-sharp, familiar.

But this time I didn’t cry.

Didn’t scream.

Just sat there in the dark house, listening to the silence.

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