After I Faked My Death, My Husband Lost His Mind

Three weeks after my third baby was born, I heard what my husband really thought.

“I’m the one who drugged Clara back then. And I set a trap for her parents’ business. I never thought it would kill them.”

“I owe her for that. So I’ll keep her on as my wife.”

Thunder split the sky. I was standing right outside the door.

I had loved this man for half my life.

And half my life had been nothing but a joke.

But after I faked my death, he lost his mind.

He held my ashes and wouldn’t eat or drink. He wrapped his hands around his first love’s throat and demanded she pay with her life. He searched the whole world for a woman who was no longer anywhere he could find her.

By then, I’d already opened a little flower shop in Sydney.

And the man I shared an apartment with, the one who couldn’t cook to save his life, turned red as he said to me:

“You could think of Rosie as your daughter. And take me while you’re at it.”

————

Chapter 1

Three years after I got out of Pinecrest, I was pregnant again.

This time I made it through nine months of morning sickness that never let up, and a delivery with no epidural that tore me apart. And when my husband announced that the baby would be raised by Serena, I didn’t cry. I didn’t make a scene.

I just dragged my body, still bleeding, across the room, knelt beside Eleanor Ashford’s armchair, took her hand, and pressed it to my forehead. “Eleanor, it’s been seven years. Please. Let me go.”

The old woman studied my face for a long moment. “Don’t blame Julian. This family cares about heirs. He gave the baby to Serena to secure her place in this house, that’s all.”

I kept my head down. “I don’t blame him. But we had an agreement. When the time was up, I’d get my freedom back.”

She sighed. “You really have to go? What about your three children?”

My body flinched before I could stop it. I managed a smile. “I don’t dare want them anymore.”

Three years ago, I labored all night to bring my daughter, Ava, into the world.

And Julian told the staff to carry her straight to Serena.

I clutched the swaddled bundle so hard my arms shook. I screamed until my voice gave out. “She’s my baby! Mine!”

He was still in his suit. His mouth was a thin, flat line, and he looked at me like I was a child throwing a tantrum. “I’ve told you. Serena is Edward’s wife. She runs this house. She can’t have children, and she needs one if she’s going to hold her position here.”

“Be good. We’ll have more.”

I was trembling all over. “But you already gave her my son. Isn’t that enough?”

“A boy and a girl,” he said evenly. “It completes the picture.”

I lost my mind that day. I clawed and screamed until they pinned my arms and legs, and I watched them take another child out of my arms.

I couldn’t accept it. That night, I stole my daughter back and ran all the way to the iron gates at the end of the drive.

I was one step from the other side when a little boy’s voice rang out behind me. “That bad lady stole my sister! Stop her!”

I went cold.

I turned around and saw my eldest son, Theo.

That sweet, beautiful little face, and nothing in his eyes but disgust.

He was the one who called security.

Julian said I was sick and sent me to Pinecrest to “rest.”

Beatings. Shock treatments. Drugs. I learned one thing there: never think about the children I’d nearly died to bring into the world.

Eleanor was clearly remembering all of it too, and something like pity flickered across her face. “Seven years ago, that medium I’ve trusted for decades told me you were born lucky. That you’d bring good fortune to this family. So I took you in and let you marry into it. I never imagined it would come to this.”

“This is my fault. I’ll send you abroad. The work visa will take a month. Until then, rest and get your strength back.”

I thanked her properly, then got up slowly and went back.

In the hallway I ran into Julian, rocking the baby in his arms.

Tall, severe, all sharp edges, and there he was, clumsily soothing an infant, with a gentleness I had never once seen on him.

When he saw me, he barely lifted his eyes. “Serena picked a name. Noah.”

My baby. Someone else had named him. He would call someone else Mom.

My breath caught. “The first time you took my child, it was because you needed a son. The second time, it was so you’d have one of each. What’s the reason this time?”

“Serena says Theo’s too wild. She wants a sweeter boy.” He said it like it was nothing. “I’m taking Noah to her now. Do you want to say goodbye?”

I knew him too well. He was braced for me to fall apart and beg him to let me keep the baby. He’d already worked out what he’d say to calm me down.

After all, I always made a scene.

But this time, I took half a step back. “No. Serena will take good care of him.”

He frowned, like I’d annoyed him. “He’s your son. How can you be so cold?”

I swallowed against the sting behind my eyes. “Don’t worry. I won’t fight Serena for him anymore.”

The old wounds on my body still ached, a reminder of what it cost me to disobey.

I didn’t dare fight for them anymore.

He looked like he wanted to say something else, but Serena called, telling him to hurry. At the door he glanced back, and his voice softened, which almost never happened. “I promise, this is the last time. The next baby, I’ll let you keep.”

I said nothing. I just lowered my head and texted Daniel, an old friend in Sydney, asking him to help me find an apartment to rent.

There would be no next baby.

I was leaving.

…

I hadn’t finished packing when I was summoned to Serena.

She was in a fitted silk dress, her makeup flawless, swaying gently with Noah in her arms. She didn’t even look at me. “Kneel.”

I froze. Then I did as I was told.

The Ashfords were one of the oldest families in Boston, with more rules than the Church. Ever since Edward fell ill, Eleanor had handed the running of the estate to her elder grandson’s wife. The staff, the accounts, the “conduct” of every woman under this roof—all of it belonged to Serena.

Eleanor had a soft spot for me, and Serena was terrified I’d threaten her position. She found reasons to punish me every other day.

Once upon a time I’d have lifted my chin and talked back. Not anymore. “What did I do wrong this time?”

She gave a cold little laugh and pinched the baby, hard. “You have the nerve to ask? This thing you gave birth to screams the second I pick him up. What did you do to him?”

Noah let out a shrill wail. My heart twisted. “Please, be gentle, he’s so small—”

“Shut up! Who are you to tell me how to handle my child? Theo, teach her some manners!”

Theo walked up to me, his face dark.

The child I’d nearly died giving birth to raised his hand without a moment’s hesitation and slapped me across the face. “How dare you be rude to my mom! Who do you think you are?”

He was shockingly strong for his size. I hit the floor, my cheek on fire.

But my heart hurt more.

“Keep going, Theo.” Serena smiled. “I want her to understand. What good is it being able to have babies? I’m the real lady of this house.”

Once. Twice…

My ears were ringing. I tasted copper. And through the haze, I saw a familiar figure walk in.

Tall, lean, his suit immaculate. Julian.

He just stood there and watched his own son slap me, and he didn’t say one word.

But then, when had he ever been on my side?

Another slap, harder than the rest, and everything went black.

When I opened my eyes again, I was in my bed in the west wing. Julian was sitting beside me, dabbing ointment on my face. His voice was low and hard. “If it hurt, you could have called for me. Did you really have to fake fainting? You scared Theo half to death.”

My throat was raw. “I wasn’t faking.”

“Fine. You weren’t.” He was holding his temper in check. “Serena says you tried to take the baby again. That’s why she did it. Tomorrow you’ll go and apologize to her.”

They’d taken my child. Beaten me unconscious. And I was supposed to apologize to the woman responsible?

I looked him in the eye. “I didn’t try to take anything. She was tormenting me. Serena is your brother’s wife. I’m your wife. Why do you always believe her and never me?”

His hand went still.

Then his face closed. “Do you really need me to say it? A woman who drugged me to get into my bed—how much of what she says am I supposed to believe?”

I went rigid. Even the air felt cold.