Marrying my secret admirer after my husband's fake death novel Chapter 111

Chapter 111

No one could quite explain it. The thugs had shown up as planned, but the man–after answering a single phone call–bolted, fleeing the scene in a panic.

Edith recounted everything to Justin, not leaving out a single detail.

For a moment, something cold and lethal flickered in Justin’s eyes–but just as quickly, it vanished.

Once he understood what had happened, Justin insisted on driving Edith

home.

“I can go upstairs by myself,” Edith protested softly as he pulled up at her building.

Justin, stubborn as always, refused to hear it. He insisted on walking her all the way to her door.

Before she could reach for her keys, Justin gently brushed a stray lock of hair from her forehead. “If we’re going to fool Mom, we should at least tidy you up a little.”

Only then did Edith realize her hair was a complete mess. She stood still, letting Justin smooth it back into place. He did it with such care and concentration, as if it were the most important thing in the world.

For a second, Edith felt something flutter in her chest–a warmth she couldn’t quite name.

Back at the Sumner house, Edith showered and changed into pajamas with sleeves long enough to hide the bruises on her arm.

It was the night before her wedding. Worried she might be anxious, Jayne stayed by her bedside, chatting with her for a long time.

Edith grew drowsy, her mind wandering. Suddenly, she remembered Justin’s phone passcode and, curiosity piqued, asked, “Mom, isn’t Justin’s

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Chapter 111

birthday in the summer? I just brought him a present at the Hawksley house a few weeks ago.”

Jayne answered patiently, “That’s right–why do you ask?”

Edith squinted, puzzling over the numbers 0125. What could that date mean? But before she could figure it out, sleep overtook her.

She rolled over in bed, and the marks on her arm were suddenly visible under the lamplight.

Jayne saw them clearly. Her heart ached, but she pretended not to notice. She could always tell when her daughter had been hurt, no matter how hard Edith tried to hide it. But Jayne didn’t want to make a fuss or worry her any more than necessary, so she kept her silence.

As a cool draft from the AC swept through the room, Jayne gently tucked the blanket around Edith’s shoulders. She lingered at the door, casting one last tender glance at her sleeping daughter before finally pulling the

door shut.

Meanwhile, Justin had already gotten back in his car. He called Henson for an address and headed straight there.

Henson was a true Northcrest native–unlike Justin, whose roots lay elsewhere. Henson had grown up, gone to school, and started his career all in Northcrest. Naturally, he owned the sort of downtown penthouse only lifelong locals could manage.

At that moment, Henson was lounging by the pool, making a bet with Thorpe. “I guarantee you, the first thing out of Justin’s mouth will be about Edith.”

Thorpe snorted. “Give him some credit. He’ll at least say hello first.”

Henson grinned, certain of his win. “Want to make it interesting? Last time you lost, you had to introduce me to that model you were seeing. If I win, I get her number.”

Thorpe, unbothered, agreed. “You’re on.”

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