My best friend is marrying my husband novel Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Stephen sat on the cold basement floor, staring blankly at the dark, dried pool of blood.

“No… impossible…” His voice was a dry rattle, the sound of a man who had forgotten how to breathe. “She was so strong

She wouldn’t just…”

But his mind betrayed him, dragging him back to that sunset in the park.

Maria had turned and shielded Julia with her own body. The moment the crowbar slammed into her back, her white

blouse had bloomed into a shockingly red stain.

That red had burned under the fading light, vivid and violent. He had seen it. He had seen all of it. But he had chosen to

ignore it.

Because at that moment, every ounce of his attention had been on the wounded Julia.

Only one thought had filled his mind. Julia must be safe.

As for Maria… He had assumed she wasn’t seriously hurt. He had assumed she was playing some elaborate act. He had

assumed she would always be there, waiting for him to look back.

“Sir.” The butler’s choked voice sounded from behind him. “The car is ready… If you wish to see Madam one last time…”

Stephen snapped his head up, bloodshot eyes trembling. “Where is her funeral? Tell me the address!”

His voice carried the last, trembling remnants of hope, that this was all some charade, that Maria was staging a stunt to

force his hand, that she wasn’t truly gone.

The butler quietly recited the address of a suburban funeral home.

Stephen staggered to his feet and rushed toward the garage. He didn’t even change his shoes, bursting outside in nothing

but house slippers.

The car tore through New York’s streets. His hands shook so violently on the steering wheel he could barely keep the car

straight.

He clung to the hope of a hoax like a drowning man clutching at a razor blade.

This has to be Maria’s charade. She was invisible for six years, and now she wants attention. She’s a mother, how could

she pull something this extreme?

Maria, you’d better not be doing this to guilt–trip me….

By the time the car reached the funeral home, a light drizzle had begun to fall Stephen ran into the small memorial

hall and froze.

Chapter 13

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At the center of the altar stood a black–and–white photograph of Maria. She was smiling, a gentle, radiant smile. A smile

he hadn’t seen in a very, very long time.

When had she stopped smiling at him like that?

His gaze dropped. On the table below the photo sat two urns.

One larger, a dark wood grain. The other much smaller, white, delicate, almost unbearably small, with a tiny photograph

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