"I Died on My Wedding Night. My Enemy’s Hair Turned White." Chapter 51

Julian’s expression darkened. The seal had been a second away from coming down on the contract.

“Mr. Blackwood, Stella and Her Grace agreed to this partnership long ago. You know how much this project means to her. She may never wake up. Can’t you at least let us fulfill her last wish? Why must you interfere?”

Keep interfering, Lucian. Please.

The enemy of my enemy was my friend. For once, I was wholeheartedly on his side.

“Her last wish?” Lucian’s mouth curved. “Does she know that?”

“Don’t go too far.”

Lucian ignored him and looked at the duchess.

“The person named as project director in that contract is Julian Whitmore, not Stella.”

“Given my wife’s current condition, she obviously can’t manage the project herself. As her legal husband, I can act on her behalf.”

Lucian walked toward him.

“Her current condition?” His voice was quiet. “You can’t even recognize your own wife, and you think you deserve to call yourself her husband?”

I almost cried.

He knew.

He knew the woman in that bed wasn’t me.

At last, someone could stop Julian from murdering an innocent woman to complete his lie. The police could find out who she really was and locate her family.

Julian retreated two steps. The back of his leg struck the hospital bed.

The duchess looked from one man to the other.

“What do you mean? That isn’t Stella?”

“The police found her,” Julian said quickly. “She was wearing Stella’s clothes—”

“Stella donates blood every year. Her blood type is rare, and the hospital retained samples.” Lucian’s gaze never left him. “When I came here last time, I took two strands of that woman’s hair. The DNA results just came back.”

He handed over the report.

“They’re not a match.”

Julian’s knees seemed to give. He braced a hand against the bed to stay upright.

The duchess read the report. Tears filled her eyes.

“Then Stella might still be alive? She might not be hurt at all?”

Lucian said nothing.

He knew how little hope there was.

After a moment, he changed the subject.

“If Stella can’t enter the partnership, Your Grace might consider working with me.”

I stared at him, then nearly applauded.

He was stealing the deal right in front of Julian.

Blackwood Holdings and the Whitmore Group were hardly in the same league. On financial strength alone, the duchess had every reason to choose him.

Julian looked as though he had swallowed something foul.

But the duchess shook her head.

“I promised this project to Stella. Until she comes back, it will remain on hold.”

She handed the seal to her attendant.

I looked at her kind, grieving face.

I’m sorry, Your Grace.

I was going to break my promise after all.

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