“Sir, Your Wife Faked Her Death, I Know Where She is”…The poor girl told the billionaire and he…

The man who arranged Rebecca’s funeral.

The man who held his arm at the graveside and said, Grief doesn’t have a schedule.

Thomas looked past Jude at Rebecca.

“You,” he said softly, “should have died.”

For a moment, nobody spoke.

Eleven years of trust collapsed in total silence.

Thomas held out his hand.

“The envelope, Jude.”

Jude stared at him.

“You arranged her funeral.”

Thomas’s face didn’t change.

“You stood beside me at her grave.”

“I was fond of Rebecca,” Thomas said. “But this was never personal. She became a problem.”