Adanna stared at the photo Vanessa had handed her, the weight of it settling like stone in her hands.
There he was — Malcolm. Alive. Or at least someone who looked exactly like him.
Same sharp jawline. Same expensive taste in suits. Same slightly uneven shoulder from an old football injury he once joked about. She couldn't deny it. It was him.
But it couldn't be. She had seen the body. She had watched the coffin lower into the ground.
She had cried.
"Where did you get this?" Adanna asked, her voice low, careful.
Vanessa leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs as if she were discussing nothing more serious than a ruined manicure. "It doesn't matter. What matters is, your dead husband is walking around like he never got buried. And you clearly didn't know. So either you're lying to me… or someone is lying to you."
Adanna's fingers curled around the edge of the table. "Why would he fake his death?"
Vanessa laughed, a sharp, humorless sound. "You don't fake your death for fun, sweetheart. You do it when someone's after you — or when you're hiding something worth more than your life."
Adanna's heart slammed against her ribs.
Malcolm had secrets — she always knew that. You don't marry a billionaire tech mogul without realizing you'll never know everything. But she had trusted the version of him she was allowed to see.
Still, some part of her always suspected she was only living in one corner of his world.
And now… that corner was starting to crack.
"What do you want from me?" she asked, folding the photo and slipping it into her coat.
Vanessa's lips twitched into something that wasn't quite a smile. "I want in. Malcolm owed me — big. And if he's alive, I want what's mine. But more importantly, I want protection. Because if he faked his death, then whatever scared him enough to do that… might come for us next."
Adanna studied her. There was something cold behind Vanessa's eyes. Not fear — calculation.
She wasn't bluffing. And she didn't seem surprised.
"Give me the address of that building," Adanna said, standing.
Vanessa hesitated, then scribbled something on a napkin and slid it across the table.
"Be careful. Whoever Malcolm was running from… they're watching you too. I'd bet my life on it."
Adanna didn't respond. She tucked the napkin into her purse and walked out of the café, the air colder than when she entered.
The building was two neighborhoods away — a nondescript gray structure nestled between a warehouse and a closed-down flower shop. Unmarked. No windows on the ground floor. Just a black security door with a keypad.
Adanna watched from across the street, hidden behind a row of parked cars. She'd changed clothes — dark hoodie, sunglasses, no makeup. She didn't know what she expected, but the building screamed secrecy.
She checked the time. 4:17 p.m.
She was about to leave when the door opened — and a man stepped out.
She held her breath.
It wasn't Malcolm. But he was tall. Dressed in black. Earpiece in one ear.
Security.
Behind him came another man, pushing a metal cart with sealed boxes marked with a red triangle. Adanna didn't know what it meant, but something about it chilled her.
A delivery van pulled up. The boxes were loaded. Within minutes, the men disappeared, the van drove off, and the street returned to stillness.
Adanna slipped her phone out and snapped a picture of the building, the keypad, the street sign. She didn't know what she would do with them yet. She just needed proof. Something to hold onto.
She turned to leave.
"Adanna?"
Her blood ran cold.
She turned slowly — and came face-to-face with the last person she expected to see.
Malcolm.