Hated that I aborted the child we’d both been waiting for.
And hated most of all that I never even said goodbye—just vanished into thin air. Which is why, for the past five years, Fletcher had been pouring a fortune into a private search team.
All for the sake of finding one person—me.
Fletcher closed his eyes and stayed silent for a long time.
“All right. Throw it away.”
“June,” he said, “from now on, I’ll marry you and I’ll never mention Ashley again.”
June smiled, took his hand and gently pressed it to her cheek like a kitten curling up for warmth.
“I knew you’d work through it. We’ll have our own life, our own marriage… and our own children.”
That night, June had changed into a brand-new piece of lingerie she’d just bought and even dabbed on perfume.
But before she could throw herself into his arms, Fletcher’s phone rang.
It was his assistant, sounding breathless with excitement.
“Mr. Reynolds, we’ve found news about Ashley again!”
Fletcher’s expression instantly darkened, his grip tightening on the phone. He shot to his feet.
“What did you just say?”
Even I, floating nearby, was stunned.
I’d been dead for five years.
How could they possibly have news about me?