I Was His Wife, Then His Widow, Then No One's But My Own novel Chapter 437

Meanwhile, on the other side of the city.

Seraphina Shaw was dragged out of a vehicle, a thick black blindfold covering her eyes. She couldn't see a thing; all she could focus on was the crunch of her own shoes against the pavement and the heavy breathing and heavy footsteps of the men behind her.

The damp, frigid air mixed with the smell of dust, biting at her nose. She had no idea where she was or who had ordered her abduction.

The exact second she had been bailed out of custody, she was shoved into a waiting car, blindfolded, and explicitly ordered to keep her mouth shut.

A heavy door groaned shut behind her. Hands forced her down onto a plush sofa. Even though her wrists weren't bound, terror kept her perfectly paralyzed.

The silence in the room was suffocating, dripping with a sinister, creeping dread. It wasn't long before the deliberate click of footsteps echoed behind her, slowly drawing closer.

Someone stopped directly in front of her. A hand reached out, casually untying the knot at the back of her head.

The blindfold slipped away. Seraphina blinked aggressively, struggling to adjust to the dim, amber lighting of the room. When her vision finally focused on the man standing before her, her pupils contracted violently.

It was as if she had been struck by lightning. She froze against the sofa cushions, absolute horror washing over her.

How could she not recognize that face? It was Frederick Fletcher—Finnegan's older brother. The man who was supposed to have died in a plane crash five years ago.

"How... how are you still alive?" Seraphina choked out, her voice fractured with disbelief and suffocating terror.

Frederick stepped closer, staring down at her, a chilling, half-formed smile playing on his lips.

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