Eight Lives Lost My Husband Died for HerChapter 1

I was scrolling through my phone during my maternity recovery when I stumbled across a local help-wanted post:

"My mistress is almost due, and she wants to have the baby abroad. My mom adores her and wants to go along to take care of her, but my wife is still in postpartum recovery right now. How do I get my wife to agree to let me and my mom go overseas for a while?"

The comments were tearing the guy apart, but the poster had liked one reply in particular:

"Easy. Just tell your wife your mom has a serious illness and needs to go abroad for treatment."

I was still shaking my head, feeling sorry for whatever poor woman was stuck with a husband and mother-in-law like that, when my own husband walked in holding a medical report.

"Honey, my mom just found out she has a heart condition. She needs surgery overseas as soon as possible. I'll probably have to stay with her abroad while she's being treated."

……

I stared at the report in Brad Delgado's hand, and my heart gave a sharp, involuntary lurch. The post I'd just read flashed through my mind before I could stop it.

It had to be a coincidence.

Brad was famous for how much he loved me. Everyone knew it.

During my entire pregnancy, he'd cooked me a different meal every single day, never repeating a dish. When my body ached from carrying the baby, no matter how late he got home or how exhausted he was, he'd massage me until I fell asleep. The day I went into labor, he'd paced outside the delivery room like a man losing his mind.

After the baby was born, everyone crowded around the newborn, laughing and cooing. Everyone except Brad. He'd gripped my hand and cried so hard his nose was running.

"I'm sorry, babe. I'm so sorry you had to go through that."

During my recovery, he'd turned down every work obligation and stayed home with his mother to look after me and the baby. Jean handled the housework during the day. Brad took over feedings, diaper changes, and baths. He'd even moved into the guest room with the baby at night so I could sleep through undisturbed.

A husband who treated me like I hung the moon—how could he possibly be the man in that post?

I steadied myself and asked, trying to sound casual:

"Isn't Mom in good health, though? How did it suddenly become so urgent that she needs surgery?"

Brad shook his head, anxiety written all over his face.