The champagne flute shattered in my hand as I watched Henry kiss that woman on the yacht deck—our anniversary still warm on his lips. Blood dripped down my fingers, mixing with the glittering shards.\n\nI didn’t scream. I didn’t cry. I just walked. Barefoot across the pier, the ocean wind tearing at my dress, security cameras blinking like indifferent stars. My phone buzzed—unknown number. One photo: a ledger showing $20 million transferred to a shelter under my maiden name.\n\nThen the message: 'You were never forgotten. Come home—if you want to.'\n\nI stared at the horizon. No more running. No more forgiving. But who was this man who’d been watching me all along?