Declared Dead by My Billionaire Husband

I was at the office, pulling another late night developing a new product, when the notice arrived: I was dead.

I assumed it was someone's idea of a sick joke. But when I got home, I heard my son anxiously questioning my husband.

Daddy, why did you get Mommy a death certificate? Did something happen to her?

My husband ruffled his hair.

"Mommy's fine. It's just that Aunt Shelagh Simmons wants to stay at the Sunmont Villa during her pregnancy. That place belongs to your mommy, and she won't give it to her, so Daddy had no choice but to get a death certificate and inherit it."

"Once the deed is transferred to Aunt Shelagh's name, Daddy will cancel the certificate."

A ringing filled my skull. In a single heartbeat, the blood in my veins seemed to run backward.

The Sunmont Villa was what my mother left me. I'd never been able to bring myself to live there, terrified of erasing the last traces of her.

Something inside me shattered. I drew a slow breath and dialed a number.

"That offer you made before, to bring me onto your company's R&D team. I accept."

"But within three days, you'll give me a new identity and transfer every last one of my assets over to it."

I stood outside the door letting the cold wind cut into me for half an hour before the fire in my chest cooled even slightly.

I pushed the door open, and the smell of cooking rushed out to meet me.

Blake Sanchez stood in the kitchen in an apron, slicing vegetables with the easy precision of a trained chef.

But in every memory I had, Blake was a rich boy who'd never lifted a finger in his life.

Eight years of marriage, and I could count the times he'd cooked for me on one hand.

Then Shelagh came back from abroad, and suddenly he was brewing her brown sugar ginger tea every time she had her period.

Once she got pregnant, he even signed up for classes to learn how to cook proper meals for an expectant mother.

Whenever I asked him about it, all he'd say was,

"She's a stranger in this city. I'm her oldest friend. Of course I should look out for her."

"Be good, don't get jealous over nothing. It only makes you look petty."

He didn't even glance up when he saw me come in.

"You're back. Don't wait up for me tonight."

"Shelagh suddenly wanted chicken soup, so I made some and took it over. I'll be home late."

Before, I'd have turned a blind eye for our son's sake. But this time I couldn't stop myself from asking,

"Whose child is Shelagh really carrying?"

Three months had passed since her pregnancy was confirmed, and the baby's father had yet to show his face.

Blake went with her to every prenatal appointment, patiently played music to the baby, took charge of her food, her clothes, where she lived, all of it.

He'd never been that devoted to our own son.

I found it very hard to believe there was nothing between him and Shelagh.

Clang.

Blake slammed the spatula down hard against the stovetop and glared at me.

"What are you implying? That I'm sleeping with Shelagh?"

"Developing products all day isn't exhausting enough for you? You've still got energy left to dream up nonsense like this? If you've got the time, go upstairs and spend it with your son."

He was always even-tempered. The only reason he'd snap like that was because I'd hit the truth.

A sharp pain shot through my heart. I wanted to press him further, but it was as if all my strength had drained away, and I couldn't force out a single word.

Blake snatched the thermal container off the table, rammed his shoulder into mine, and walked off without looking back.

I pushed open the door to the children's room.

My son was sitting obediently on the bed, his favorite book of fairy tales in his hands.

When he saw it was me who'd come in, the hope in his eyes slowly drained away.

"Daddy broke his promise again. He said he'd read me a bedtime story tonight."

My heart ached as I pulled him into my arms and soothed him gently.

"Daddy has work to deal with tonight. Mommy will read it to you."

Even making excuses for Blake left me feeling like a fraud.

Ever since Shelagh got pregnant, he hadn't set foot in our son's room once. Every time, he turned down the only bit of time he had with his own child, claiming he was too busy with work.

But I knew. Every single night, he found some new way to read bedtime stories to the unformed baby in Shelagh's belly.

In my arms, my son suddenly looked up at me.

"Mommy, if Daddy lied to you, does that mean you won't want him anymore?"

I raised an eyebrow, knowing exactly what he was asking about.

Before I could answer, he threw his arms around me and clung tight, his voice almost pleading.

"Mommy, Francis Coleman will never lie to you. Francis will tell you everything."

"Daddy got you a death certificate. He wants to inherit what's yours so he can give the Sunmont Villa to Aunt Shelagh."

"He did it on impulse. Don't be angry with him. He still loves you."

I looked at his small face, twisted with grief too deep for tears, and the pain in my chest only sharpened.

Sometimes I wanted to ask Blake if he'd ever once stopped to consider how our son felt.

He was only six, at the very age when a child needs his parents most.

How could he bring himself to leave his own son out in the cold while pouring all that warmth into another woman and another man's child?

That night, Blake didn't come home.

I dropped my son off at school and went into the office as usual.

I'd barely reached my desk when my coworker Leopold Finch sidled up, his face dark with frustration

Evelyn, it's just not fair. You broke your back developing product after product for this company, clawed your way up to General Manager, and the second Shelagh Simmons walks in, she gets to drop into your chair? There's no way those two aren't sleeping together.

My hand froze over the keyboard. I turned to her, blank.

Only after asking around did I get the full picture. Shelagh had started at the company today, and Blake had handed her the General Manager title. Me? He'd bumped me down to team lead in the product division.

On top of that, he'd credited every achievement I'd earned over the years to her.

Blake and I had been married for years. We'd built this company from nothing, side by side. I'd developed products for him nearly every day of the year, no breaks, keeping him miles ahead of the market.

And when I'd simply asked to be promoted from a regular employee to team lead, he'd torn into me.

Don't think being my wife gets you special treatment. I despise people who want something for nothing. You want a promotion? Show me you've actually earned it.

So you developed a few popular products. That's no excuse to play the insider card.

To avoid any appearance of favoritism, he'd refused to make our relationship public.

At the office, I wasn't allowed within three feet of him.

I couldn't even use his name. It had to be Mr. Sanchez.

I'd assumed he kept work and personal life strictly separate. I never thought twice about it.

But the moment the woman in question was Shelagh, suddenly he didn't mind insiders. Suddenly appearances didn't matter.

Leopold was still venting, but I didn't hear a word of it.

I stood and walked toward the CEO's office.

Inside.

Blake was half-kneeling, gently smoothing stretch-mark oil over Shelagh's belly.

Murmuring sweet nothings I'd never once heard from him

Be good, little one. Grow up big and strong, and protect Mommy.

But don't give Mommy a hard time, okay? Or Daddy won't love you anymore.

Daddy?

I let out a cold laugh, cutting him off.

So the child is yours after all.

Panic flickered through Blake's eyes and vanished. He shot to his feet, brows knitting as he reprimanded me

I'm the kid's godfather. What's wrong with calling myself Daddy? Quit with the snide little remarks.

I swallowed the ache rising in my throat and asked him, my voice flat

You're making Shelagh the General Manager? As far as I know, she hasn't worked a single day since she graduated. And you're just handing her the company, that easily?

Surprised I'd found out so fast, Blake pressed his lips together

Shelagh studied management. She's sharp. It'll only take her a few days to get up to speed.

The whole thing was absurd

And what about me? For her sake, you demote me on a whim, take every medal of honor I bled for and pin them on her to make her look good. And you still claim there's nothing between you two.

Enough! Are you done?

Blake's face darkened, his patience gone.

The workplace is survival of the fittest. I gave her the position because she's more capable than you, plain and simple. Don't go projecting your filthy little theories onto us.

Shelagh stepped forward, planting herself between us, her eyes brimming with challenge.

Now, don't go fighting over me.

I earned this position on my own merit, sweetie. You're just going to have to accept that there are people in this world who are better than you.

I was so angry I laughed

Fine. Wonderful.

Something pained flickered in Blake's eyes, but he said nothing.

I pulled out my resignation letter and held it out to him

Since you think she's more capable than me, I quit.

If the job was gone, it was gone. In two more days, I'd be leaving for good anyway.

Blake frowned

Will you stop? You think because the product division needs you, you can use that to threaten me? Could you be any more childish?

Shelagh snatched the resignation letter away and said in that cloying, taunting tone

Just sign it, Blake. She's been hanging onto you for years, and she's made enemies of half the industry. Without you, nobody would touch her.

She needs a hard lesson. Once she learns how cruel the real world is, that arrogance of hers will finally fade.

She'd talked him into it. With two quick strokes Blake signed the letter and flung it, pen and all, at my feet.

Get out.

When I finished packing up and got home,

my son was already there, let out of school early, sitting on the couch.

His eyes were red and swollen. He'd clearly been crying.

My chest tightened. I went straight to him and asked what was wrong.

Between hiccupping sobs, he said,

The other kids called me a liar. They said I was making it up, claiming somebody else's dad was mine.

But Daddy IS my daddy. They wouldn't believe me. None of them would play with me.

The more he talked, the more it hurt, and the tears spilled over again.

I pulled him into my arms, aching for him, soothing him, while a thread of suspicion in my chest slowly began to swell.

Once he'd calmed down, I called his homeroom teacher.

But she turned the question back on me.

Ms. Hayward, are you a single mother?

I've held so many parent meetings and never once seen Francis's father. I assumed it was a single-parent home. Then today he pointed at one of our sponsors and said that was his dad.

But that man has a wife. She came to tour the school grounds with him, too. They said once their baby was born, this is where the child would go.

A cold spread through every inch of me. My mind raced to fit the pieces together.

No wonder Blake always refused to come to Francis's parent meetings. I'd thought he was genuinely swamped. It turned out he'd been busy being a devoted father to the baby in Shelagh Simmons's belly.

He didn't want a single thread connecting him to our son.

My heart felt like it was being wrenched in a brutal grip. Carefully, I asked her,

This sponsor of yours, is his name Blake Sanchez? And his wife, Shelagh Simmons?

Yes, that's right! They had a wedding overseas just three months ago. Quite the lavish affair, I heard.

My breath caught.

Three months ago, Blake had suddenly said he had a business trip. Seven days straight, he didn't answer my calls or reply to my messages.

I'd lain awake night after night, terrified something had happened to him.

He'd been off getting married.

And the baby in Shelagh's belly could only be his.

But if he and Shelagh were married, then what did that make me?

A sick premonition rose in me. I had someone check my marital status.

The result: Blake and I had been divorced a year ago.

Right around the time Shelagh came back to the country.

Shaking with rage, I called Blake.

One ring, twoall the way to the fifteenth.

Only then did someone pick up.

But the voice on the line was Shelagh's.

Oh, sis, looking for Blake? He's in the shower right now.

Don't bother waiting up for him tonight. He's keeping me and the baby company. No time to deal with you and your son.

My voice went cold.

Where are you?

Shelagh said nothing. She just hung up.

Fury surged through my chest like a tide, but I couldn't let it break in front of my son.

I lowered my eyes to him on the couch and asked,

If Mommy and Daddy got divorced, would you come with Mommy?

He panicked the instant the words left my mouth.

Doesn't Mommy want Daddy anymore? But I don't want you to split up.

Give Daddy one more chance, okay? When he comes home, I'll talk to him nicely, I promise.

Tomorrow's my birthday. He said he'd have a big surprise for me.

A six-year-old can't understand the tangled grudges between grown-ups.

He only thought Blake and I had had a fight, and that we'd make up like always.

I didn't want to put him in that position.

But Blake didn't come home until the middle of the next night.

He'd clearly just rolled in from some business outing, reeking of liquor.

There was a vivid lipstick stain on his collar.

I sat on the couch, holding my son.

Where's Francis's birthday present?

I forgot.

Blake faltered, a flicker of awkwardness crossing his face.

I've been buried in work these last couple of days. I'll make it up to him another day.

I knit my brows.

Busy with work, or busy taking care of Shelagh Simmons?

His face darkened.

Stop with the snide remarks. If you can't talk like a normal person, then keep your mouth shut. It's just a present. It's not like he won't get one.

With that, he went upstairs.

Clutching his tablet, my son told me, his little voice thick with hurt,

But Mommy, today Daddy threw a three-month party for the baby in Aunt Shelagh's tummy.

That was how I learned Shelagh had posted on her social media feed.

A photo of a room buried under presents.

The caption read: Having a daddy who adores you really does make all the difference. Only three months along and already showered with a lifetime's worth of gifts.

Among them were the toy car and the Transformer my son had been longing for.

A sharp pain stabbed through my heart, and I held him tighter.

Don't cry, sweetheart. Whatever you want, Mommy will take you to buy it tomorrow.

At the mall.

I'd just bought my son a toy car when the property manager called.

Ma'am, there's trouble. You'd better get to Sunmont Villa right away.

A bad feeling twisted in my chest. I grabbed my son's hand and hurried over.

From a distance I could already see Shelagh standing in the doorway, chin lifted, barking orders at the workers hauling my things out of the house.

Take all the dead woman's junk out and burn it. I won't have my baby tainted by bad luck.

I rushed forward and stopped them.

Every one of you, stop right now.

Shelagh, this is my house. You have no right to touch a single thing in it.

Shelagh smiled and pulled out a property deed.

Blake signed the villa over to me ages ago. I could tear it down to the ground and it still wouldn't be any of your business.

I hadn't expected Blake to move so fast. Two days, and he'd already transferred the deed into Shelagh's name.

Shelagh shot my son a look and sneered.

What are you staring at? Your mother's too useless to keep a man, and you're just as worthless. Every asset your family has will belong to my baby someday.

Oh, look at you, about to cry. That's all a little bastard like you knows how to do. Go on, cry. Cry yourself to death, nobody's coming to save you.

My son's eyes went red, his whole face crumpling.

I couldn't hold back. I stepped up and slapped her across the face.

Blake arrived just in time to catch that exact moment, and he exploded.

Evelyn, what is wrong with you now?!

I dodged the hand he reached out to shove me and threw the question back at him.

What gives you the right to hand my house to Shelagh? It's the only thing I have left of my mother.

Get out of here right now, or I'm calling the police.

Blake frowned.

It's just a house. Are you really going to make a scene over it? Fine, I'll buy you a bigger one.

Shelagh's pregnancy is fragile. If anything happens to the baby, you won't be able to live with the consequences.

I had no more breath to waste on him. I pulled out my phone to dial the police.

Shelagh snatched it from my hand and smashed it against the floor.

Evelyn, you've gone too far.

Somebody grab the madam and lock her in the basement.

The words were barely out before two men lunged and seized me.

Seeing it, my son sobbed and begged Blake.

Daddy, let Mommy go, please don't hurt Mommy.

Blake grabbed my son by the shirt and shoved him at one of his men.

Keep him quiet.

My son thrashed against the grip.

Let me go, I want my mommy, I don't want a daddy, Daddy's a big bad villain!

I watched him, and my heart bled.

But Blake acted as if he'd seen nothing, ordering them to keep dragging out my mother's belongings to be destroyed.

Just as they were about to throw me into the basement.

A squad of well-trained bodyguards stormed through the door.

At their head was Thaddeus James, CEO of Sanchez Group's rival company.

One flick of his eyes, and his men kicked the ones holding me clean off.

He apologized to me.

I'm late. I've already registered a new identity for you. From now on you're Evelyn James, my sister.

Every asset under Evelyn Hayward's name has been transferred to you, including this house.

I brushed the dust off my clothes and said, my voice cold:

Then what are you all standing around for? Arrest these trespassers.