Chapter 2: The Facade of a Fortune
Robert didn't wait for an invitation. He pushed past the gate, his boots leaving dark, heavy imprints on the pristine white gravel.
"You look well, Sarah," he rasped. His voice was like sandpaper, unused for years. "The funeral must have been expensive. I hope the open casket was worth it."
"You... you’re dead," she stammered, backing toward the house. "We held a service. The police... the accident at the lake..."
"I wasn't in the lake, Sarah," Robert said, stepping into the porch light. "I was in a hole. And I spent six years clawing my way out of it."
Inside the house, Julian stepped out, his face reddening with irritation. "Sarah? Who is this vagrant? Security should have—"
May you like
Robert stopped him with a single, sharp look. "Save your breath, Julian. I know who you are. I know how you two 'met' three months after I 'died.' I know how you invested the insurance money."
Sarah’s face had lost every drop of color. She realized then that Robert hadn't returned for forgiveness. He had returned for an audit.
