He Faked His Death for Ten Years,Then Begged Me to Sign for His Millions

After he ran into his battered first love, my husband walked away with her without a second thought.

Then he vanished off the face of the earth, never sent me so much as a word.

The only two things he left me with

were eight hundred thousand in loans and a death certificate, issued after he'd been missing four years and declared legally dead.

The bank took the house we'd bought for the marriage, and I ended up in a four-hundred-a-month basement room.

After work I held down three jobs.

I scrubbed toilets, I sold my blood, I signed up as a test subject for drug trials.

Every day it was stale bread and tap water.

It took me ten years to clear the debt, and then I landed a job as a records officer.

The very first application that crossed my desk was a request to restore the identity of a man who was legally dead.

He said he'd been young and foolish, that he'd run off from home and canceled his own residency records.

Now the old family factory was being torn down for redevelopment, and he needed his records restored to claim a demolition payout worth over a hundred million.

I stared at the painfully familiar name on the application form.

And smiled.

"The paperwork's incomplete. Denied."

……

Jude Delgado didn't recognize me. There was a clipped edge of displeasure in his voice.

"I've got proof of residence from the neighborhood association, and a DNA test from my parents."

"You could at least look at my documents first."

I pushed the folder aside and bent my head to other work.

"No need to look."

"Your paperwork's incomplete. Application rejected."

The youngest colleague in the department panicked, tapped my shoulder, and dropped his voice to a whisper.

"Amelia Simmons, just process it for him."

"He's a pretty famous couples blogger. He's got over a million followers online."

"He posts one video and the whole office gets buried under an online pile-on."

I didn't look up. I called the next person in line.

"Everyone's equal under the rules. Influencers don't get special treatment."

Jude looked down at me from where he stood.

Then he smiled.

It was contempt, the kind that despised me from the bone out.

"I know how this works."

"Name your price. How much to get it done?"

I lifted my head.

And looked, calmly, at the man I hadn't seen in ten years.

So there was no such thing as karma after all.

He hadn't ended up broke and broken. If anything, he was living more comfortably than ten years ago.

Comfortable enough that throwing money at problems had become a habit.

And me?

Life had worn the light right out of my eyes.

There was nothing left in my face of the woman I used to be.

I looked years older than I was.

That was why he didn't recognize me.

But now he was in my hands.

A hundred-million demolition payout.

If I didn't sign, he didn't get a cent.

I looked at him, calm, and gave the textbook answer.

"Like I said. Your paperwork doesn't qualify."

It had probably been a long time since anyone turned Jude down in public.

He shot to his feet, slammed the folder on the desk, and jabbed a finger at me.

"My paperwork was specially approved by your superior."

"Who are you to refuse me?"

I sat up straight and smiled.

"I don't care who specially approved it. The person who signs off now is me."

"I say it doesn't qualify, then it doesn't qualify."

He ground his teeth, livid.

"You just wait!"

"Refuse me today, and tomorrow it might not be you sitting in that chair!"

The threat was right there in his eyes, plain as day.

Then he turned and walked out.

I watched him go.

My fingers were trembling with the thrill of it.

Wait. Of course I'd wait.

Ten years.

I'd been waiting for this day even in my dreams.

Now it was only just beginning.

I picked up my phone and searched for his first love's name online.

Daphne Dickerson, a verified account.

Smarter than Jude. At least she hadn't canceled her records.