Chapter 3

Philippa's POV

The day before the wedding, Roland completely lost his patience.

My soul, dragged by that invisible force, followed him as he stormed into the law firm where I worked. Emanating hostility, he pushed open the glass doors and directly demanded the receptionist.

"Where is Philippa?"

The receptionist shuddered in fear. "Mr. Ashford... Attorney Boone hasn't come to work for days. And..."

"And what?" Roland's eyes turned dark and menacing.

"Our partner, Mr. Croft... Graham, hasn't been in the office for days either."

Hearing Graham's name, Roland let out a cold laugh. He kicked over the guest coffee table next to him. The loud crash of shattering glass plunged the entire office into dead silence.

I floated in mid-air, quietly watching his face, which was slightly distorted with fury. Looking at his paranoid rage, all I felt left in my heart was a bone-chilling sorrow.

Panting heavily, he took out his phone and called his assistant, Desmond.

"Use all our connections. Find her whereabouts!" Roland roared into the phone, the veins on his forehead throbbing violently. "How dare she run off with her bastard lover! If I catch this hiding bitch, I will personally break both her legs!"

I wanted to laugh, but not a single sound came out.

Break my legs? Roland, you just used your expensive leather shoes to grind my ashes into dust yesterday.

Not long after, Desmond called back.

"Sir, we traced the last location of Mrs. Boone's phone..."

"Where?"

"In... Mr. Graham Croft's private apartment."

Roland's knuckles instantly turned white as he gripped the phone. His expression turned extraordinarily terrifying.

"Bitch." He spat the word through gritted teeth, thoroughly convinced I was hiding out at my lover's place.

The Maybach roared deafeningly down the highway like a runaway bullet, heading straight for Graham's place.

By the time he reached the high-end apartment, his anger had reached a boiling point. He didn't hesitate to lift his long leg and kick the door hard.

"Open up! I know she's inside!"

With a click, the door unlocked.

Graham stood behind it. He was wearing a wrinkled shirt, with heavy, exhausted purple bags under his eyes and stubble on his chin. Yet, he looked at Roland with eyes as calm as stagnant water.

"Get out of the way!"

Roland violently pushed Graham aside and barged in, heading straight for the bedroom.

"Philippa! How long are you going to play dead in another man's bed?!" he yelled, throwing off the blanket. "Listen here, we aren't divorced yet! What you're doing is blatant infidelity!"

The bed was empty.

Roland spun around, glaring at Graham who stood at the door. "Where did she hide?"

Graham looked at him calmly. "She's dead, Roland. I told you yesterday, she is dead."

"Still trying to fool me with that bullshit excuse?" Roland stepped forward and grabbed Graham by the collar, his eyes full of mockery. "You two are a perfect match. To put on this show, you actually came up with a fake death farce!"

"Let go," Graham said, his voice hoarse.

Instead of letting go, Roland kicked Graham hard in the abdomen. "You shameless homewrecker. You're just playing with the woman I threw away!"

Graham grunted and slammed into the wall.

I closed my eyes in pain. Even though I was dead, he was still recklessly trampling on my dignity.

"Tell that hiding bitch," Roland adjusted his suit cuffs and coldly issued a command, "Tomorrow is my wedding with Lavinia. Even if she has to crawl, she will crawl to the venue!"

These utterly vicious words completely snapped the string of Graham's sanity.

"Go to hell, you bastard!"

Unable to suppress his overwhelming fury, Graham sprung up and landed a heavy punch right on Roland's arrogant face. The two men instantly tumbled together, breaking into a brutal fight right there.

Furniture was knocked over, and glassware shattered across the floor.

"What do you know about love?!" Graham fought through the intense pain in his chest, choked Roland's neck, and laughed wildly with bloodshot eyes. His laughter was filled with desperate mockery. "Roland, you are so pathetic and laughable! You are blind, mistaking your enemy for your true love and pampering her, while forcing the only woman in the world who truly loved you to her grave! Your whole life is an absolute joke!"

"You have a death wish!"

Struck where it hurt, Roland was enraged to the extreme. He violently flipped over, pinning Graham underneath him, and raised his fist, aiming straight for Graham's temple.

"Sir! It's bad!"

Frantic footsteps echoed from the front door.

Assistant Desmond stumbled into the room, sweating profusely, tightly gripping a brown manila envelope. His face was deathly pale, and even his voice was shaking.

"Sir... we went to the hospital to verify." Desmond took a deep breath, panic shining in his eyes. "We found the hospital's security footage, and... the madam's autopsy report."