CHAPTER 3 — The Man Everyone Buried Was Waiting
The wedding guests watched in stunned silence as Charlotte walked away from the altar with the little boy holding her hand.
Ethan shouted after her.
“Charlotte! Don’t be a fool! He’s lying!”
She didn’t even turn around.
For eight years, she had mourned a husband she believed was dead.
Now, every memory felt like a carefully built lie.
Outside the cathedral, black storm clouds rolled across the sky.
Charlotte knelt beside the boy.
“What’s your name?”
“Lucas.”
“How old are you?”
“Seven.”
Her heart skipped.
The timeline matched perfectly.
She gently touched his cheek.
“Where is your father?”
Lucas looked around nervously before whispering,
“He told me never to say his hiding place out loud.”
Charlotte frowned.
“Why?”
“Because bad people are still looking for him.”
Before she could ask another question, the sound of screeching tires echoed through the parking lot.
Three black SUVs surrounded them.
Men in dark suits jumped out.
One of them pointed directly at Lucas.
“There he is!”
Charlotte instinctively stepped in front of the boy.
“What do you want with him?”
The tallest man smiled coldly.
“We're taking the child.”
“Over my dead body.”
The man sighed.
“You really don't remember, do you?”
He tossed a thick file onto the hood of Charlotte's limousine.
Inside were photographs.
Hundreds of them.
Photos of Michael.
Different cities.
Different disguises.
Different dates.
Charlotte flipped through them with trembling hands.
Every picture had been taken after Michael's supposed funeral.
He had been alive...
The entire time.
But then she noticed something even more terrifying.
Michael wasn't hiding.
He was running.
Every photo showed someone following him.
Watching him.
Hunting him.
Charlotte looked up.
“Who are you?”
The man smiled.
“The people your husband stole from.”
Lucas suddenly grabbed Charlotte's hand tightly.
“No…”
“They found us…”
Charlotte looked at the frightened child.
“What did Michael steal?”
Lucas shook his head.
“He didn't steal anything…”
“He protected it.”
Before Charlotte could ask what he meant...
A loud explosion erupted across the parking lot.
One of the black SUVs burst into flames.
Everyone ducked.
Smoke filled the air.
Out of the chaos came the roar of a black motorcycle.
The rider wore a dark helmet and leather jacket.
He sped directly between Charlotte and the armed men.
The biker removed his helmet.
Charlotte's knees nearly gave out.
It was Michael.
Older.
Scarred.
A streak of gray ran through his hair.
But those piercing blue eyes were unmistakable.
He looked at Charlotte for only one second before saying the words she had dreamed of hearing for eight years.
“I don't have much time.”
Then he looked at Lucas.
“Son…”
“Get in the truck.”
Charlotte's tears streamed down her face.
“Michael... where have you been?”
His expression darkened.
“I never left you…”
“I was betrayed.”
His eyes slowly shifted toward the cathedral.
Toward Ethan.
Then he uttered the sentence that made Charlotte's blood run cold.
“The man you almost married wasn't working alone...”
May you like
“The person who ordered my murder… is someone in your own family.”
To be continued...
