I Was His Wife, Then His Widow, Then No One's But My Own novel Chapter 463

Finnegan hung up the phone and forced himself off the mattress, his vision blacking out at the edges as the fever flared up again.

He gripped the edge of the bed to steady himself. Once the severe vertigo passed, he grabbed his coat and immediately headed out the door.

Liam had already sent the address to his phone. The Blackwood Industrial Zone was a remote location, a solid three-hour drive from the city limits.

As his car sped away from the glittering downtown skyline, the sky steadily darkened into a pitch-black night.

Sitting in the backseat, Finnegan watched the blurring scenery, his mind an absolute chaotic mess.

Haven...

Why did that name sound so familiar? He felt like he had discussed it with his brother years ago.

A sickening knot tightened in his stomach, and his hands clenched involuntarily until his knuckles turned white.

It was impossible. His brother had died in that catastrophic plane crash five years ago. Even though the body was burned beyond recognition, there was no way it was a mistake.

He had personally watched the casket being lowered into the ground. He had watched the headstone being erected. Only after the funeral had he comfortably assumed the man's identity.

But now, a shadow corporation was operating under his own name, executing massive capital moves. It defied all logic. It felt entirely sinister, as if an invisible predator had woven an intricate web, patiently waiting for him to step into it.

Despite the danger, Finnegan had to uncover the truth.

Three hours later, the car pulled up in front of an isolated villa. Finnegan shoved the door open, the biting wind instantly cutting through his collar.

The freezing air hitting his fever-flushed skin ironically cleared his foggy mind.

The leather chair slowly swiveled around. Frederick sat there in an immaculately tailored suit, his hair styled to perfection. A mocking, unreadable smile played on his lips. It perfectly mirrored the refined, elegant brother from his memories, yet radiated a terrifying, alien aura.

A jagged, faded scar sliced across Frederick's forehead. It had healed years ago, but it still looked horrific in the dim light.

Frederick's smile widened. "It's been five years, Finn. You don't look like you're doing too well."

His cold, predatory gaze swept over Finnegan's disheveled appearance. "You've lost weight. You look awful. What's the matter? I thought after I died, the entire Fletcher empire was solely yours. You should be living like a king. How did you end up looking this pathetic?"

Staring at that painfully familiar face, something explosive detonated inside Finnegan's brain.

He had run through countless scenarios during the drive. He had suspected Xander was pulling strings in the dark. He had suspected a rival syndicate orchestrating a corporate hit. He even entertained the idea that Seraphina was launching a revenge scheme.

But even in his wildest, most paranoid delusions, he never imagined that the mastermind behind the curtain was the brother who had supposedly burned to ash on that airplane five years ago.