Chapter 19
Chapter 19
Tears welled in Camilla’s eyes as she heard Alaric’s words.
“Oh, sweetheart,” she said, her voice breaking. “Why torture yourself like this2
She reached for his hand, gripping it tightly.
“Stella worshipped the ground you walked on, and you couldn’t see it. Now she’s gone, and you’re haunted by what might have been. But dreams won’t bring her back to you.”
Alaric stared at the ceiling, his jaw clenched.
This wasn’t just some longing–induced fantasy. It felt like memory–visceral, precise, overwhelming in its detail.
The dream had been unnervingly real, as if he’d actually lived that life.
In that other reality, he and Stella had also been engaged since childhood.
But there, Stella hadn’t escaped to any aerospace facility. She had married him, just as everyone expected.
And that version of himself–that blind, selfish version–had never seen through Jenna’s manipulation or recognized his own feelings for Stella. As a result, he had treated his wife with casual cruelty for decades.
In twenty years of marriage, he had never once thought to buy her a gift, never planned a single date night.
Their physical relationship had been cold and mechanical–a monthly obligation that only existed because Stella had requested it as her thirty–fifth birthday present, like someone starving asking for crumbs.
All while dream–Alaric remained obsessed with Jenna.
He hadn’t physically cheated, but he had given Jenna everything that should have belonged to his wife–his
attention, his care, his heart.
This hollow mockery of marriage had dragged on for over twenty years.
Until his pharmaceutical company faced catastrophe when he was fifty–five.
Even that disaster had been linked to Jenna, by then married to a worthless trust fund playboy.
Dream–Alaric, consumed with jealousy, had nonetheless handed her husband lucrative opportunities to ensure Jenna’s comfort.
The man had proven dangerously incompetent. A simple production line had become contaminated, resulting in medications that killed dozens.
While Alaric had been drowning in the crisis, Jenna had called him at midnight during a thunderstorm, claiming she was scared and alone with her husband away.
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Chapter 19
And dream–Alaric–pathetic, devoted fool that he was–had driven through a blizzard to comfort her.
The combination of icy roads, exhaustion, and urgency had been fatal.
At fifty–five, dream–Alaric had died behind the wheel.
But death hadn’t been the end. His consciousness had lingered, forced to witness the aftermath of his wasted life.
He had watched in helpless horror as Stella discovered the photo album hidden in his safe.
Page after page of Jenna–from eighteen onward, every milestone, every shared moment, meticulously documented and preserved like precious artifacts.
Dream–Stella’s face as understanding dawned–that moment of clarity after decades of denial–had been unbearable to witness.
Then came the will, leaving everything to Jenna.
This detail wasn’t shocking to Alaric. His own plan had been identical–to ensure Jenna received his entire estate after his death.
It was why he had planned to keep Stella on contraceptives–to make certain she never bore his children who might claim his inheritance.
And dream–Alaric had executed this plan flawlessly.
After twenty childless years, every penny had gone to Jenna.
Stella had been left with nothing but his debts–massive pharmaceutical liabilities automatically transferred to her
as his widow.
Her own considerable wealth could have covered these debts.
But the victims‘ families, unaware of her personal fortune, had assumed she was a penniless widow abandoned by her husband even in death.
In their blind rage and grief, they had stabbed her to death.
The agony and horror had jolted Alaric awake, gasping and disoriented.
For several terrifying moments, he hadn’t known which Alaric he truly was–the one who had just awakened or the one who had watched his wife die because of his lifelong selfishness.
Now, lying in his hospital bed, his emotions were a hurricane–guilt, grief, confusion, and a desperate, clawing need to make things right somehow.
Jim My
