Please Come Back, My Love novel Chapter 192

Chapter 192

A laugh. Low. Distorted. Mechanical

“You know what I want, Victoria.”

Catherine’s voice. Or what sounded like Catherine’s voice, filtered through some kind of modulator that made it sound like it was coming from the grave.

“You’re dead,” I whispered. “You’re fucking dead. I saw the news report. The death certificate. You can’t-”

“Can’t I?” The voice turned mocking. “Or maybe I’m exactly what you deserve. A ghost. A reminder. The consequence you’ve been running from.”

“This isn’t real. You’re not real. I’m-I’m having a breakdown, that’s all. Dr. Reyes said—”

“Dr. Reyes doesn’t know what you did to my family. To Elena. To everyone you’ve ever used as a pawn in your sick little games.”

The car jerked to a stop at a red light. I pressed my palm against the window, feeling the cool glass against my burning skin.

‘I didn’t-Catherine, if this is really you, I swear I didn’t know what would happen to your family. I—”

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“Liar. The word came out as a hiss. “You knew exactly what you were doing. You always know. That’s what makes you so dangerous, Victoria. You plan. You manipulate. You destroy. And then you walk away clean while everyone else burns.”

“Please.” Tears streamed down my face, ruining my carefully applied makeup. “Please, just tell me what you want. Money? I can pay you. I can-

The line went dead.

I stared at my phone, chest heaving, mascara running in black rivulets down my cheeks. Marlica was saying something, asking if I was okay, if he should pull over, but I couldn’t hear him over the roaring in my ears.

This is real. Catherine is alive. And she’s going to destroy me.

Le Bernardín was packed with the usual lunch crowd-Manhattan’s elite, air-kissing and name-dropping over thirty-dollar appetizers. I arrived ten minutes early, scanning every face in the restaurant with paranoid intensity.

୮

Was that her? The blonde in the corner booth? No, too young. The brunette by the window? Wrong build. The woman in sunglasses at the bar?

She could be anyone, Anywhere.

“Ms. Astor. The maître d’ appeared at my elbow. “Your guests have arrived. Right this way.”

I followed him to a table near the center of the room-completely exposed, visible from every angle. Richard Thomas and his partner stood as I approached two men in their fifties with expensive watches and practiced smiles.

“Victoria, you look lovely as always, Richard said, though his eyes lingered a beat too long on my face. Taking in the weight loss. The shadows I hadn’t quite

managed to conceal.

“Thank you, Richard.” I slid into my seat and accepted a menu I had no intention of reading. “Shall we order?”

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1:30 pm

Chapter 192

PPR

The versation flowed around me like water. Profit margins. Market projections. Expansion opportunities. I nodded in the right places. Smiled when expected. But my eyes kept darting to the other diners, searching for Catherine’s face in the crowd.

She’s here. I know she’s here.

Midway through the first course-some kind of fish I couldn’t taste-my phone buzzed in my purse.

I pulled it out under the table. Unknown number. A text this time.

[Second table from the left. Woman in the red dress. She’s been staring at you for five minutes.]

My head snapped up. Second table from the left. Red dress.

There. A woman in her thirties, dark hair pulled back in a severe bun, wearing a crimson sheath dress. She was looking directly at me, her expression

unreadable.

Our eyes met.

She smiled.

Not Catherine. Couldn’t be. Wrong face. Wrong build. But that smile-knowing, cruel-made my stomach turn.

My phone buzzed again.

[Not me. Just a coincidence. Or is it? You’ll never know, will you? That’s the beauty of paranoia, Victoria. Every stranger becomes a threat. Every smile becomes sinister. Welcome to your new reality.]

The fork slipped from my fingers and clattered against my plate. Richard and his partner both looked at me with concern.

“Victoria? Are you alright?”

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