Husband Dead, Millions in Hand...But Wait—He'd Loved Me a Decade! - Chapter 7: Chapter 7
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That day I finally got it—James married me and showered me with cash
because I'd caught him when he fell, triggering memories of his childhood crush.
"So I'm just her replacement?"
James brushed away my tears.
"No. I just wanted to fix an old regret. Sorry—that was selfish of me."
"If this bothers you, I'll keep my distance."
And he did.
No more working from the home office.
But the texts never stopped—constant reminders about everything under the sun.
Like I was his clueless little sister.
We silently agreed feelings were off-limits.
Until three years ago, he returned to that study, always staring out the window.
"What's so interesting about empty sky?" I asked.
He smiled wistfully. "She always talked about exploring the world, chase her dreams."
Then he slid me a boxing tournament application.
My stomach dropped. "Her dream, not mine. I'm perfectly happy being a couch potato with zero ambitions."
"Liv, I know better than that."
James always saw right through me.
Which meant he definitely knew about my feelings—hence the reminder about his one true love.
Seeing me sulk, he played his ace card:
"Just compete. Win or lose, you get a hundred grand."
"Swear on it!"
I snatched the application, grinning while warning him no take-backs.
James hooked me up with a killer gym and top trainers. I dove headfirst into prep, drowning my feelings in sweat and exhaustion.
Or maybe just hiding behind the pain, using training as emotional anesthesia.
He kept up his usual nagging via text.
"Go easy on dessert tonight—weigh-ins are coming. If cravings hit, just sleep it off. Count cupcakes till you pass out."
"OK."
"Coach says you're blanking on the rules? Slapped Post-its everywhere. Read 'em when you see 'em."
"Sure."
"Liv, why didn't you tell me about your swollen hands? Got you some ointment—apply twice daily, keep dry for two hours after."
"Yep."
Looking back at our texts from when I was ice-cold toward him...
All my responses were cold and clipped.
He never sent voice notes—claimed I'd just delete them since I "couldn't stand listening to his lectures."
Truth was, I loved them.
Never had a mom who worried enough to nag, or a dad who gave a damn about my dreams.
James filled both roles.
He didn't just give me money—he gave me worth.
That's why I couldn't risk loving him later.
He'd done too much for me already. I refused to become his burden.
So this robot claiming he loved me? Impossible!
I set the mechanical dog on his desk and bolted upright, desperate to escape a truth I wasn't ready for.
CRASH!
My belt snagged the drawer handle, sending everything flying.
I knelt to clean up the mess and froze.
Pictures. Hundreds of them. All starring me.
Weird angles—like someone shooting from above. Almost stalker-ish.
Me pummeling a punching bag. Sprawled on grass. Heels stuck in mud, looking ridiculous. Hiding behind bushes while sneaking cake. Zoned out, daydreaming...
because I'd caught him when he fell, triggering memories of his childhood crush.
"So I'm just her replacement?"
James brushed away my tears.
"No. I just wanted to fix an old regret. Sorry—that was selfish of me."
"If this bothers you, I'll keep my distance."
And he did.
No more working from the home office.
But the texts never stopped—constant reminders about everything under the sun.
Like I was his clueless little sister.
We silently agreed feelings were off-limits.
Until three years ago, he returned to that study, always staring out the window.
"What's so interesting about empty sky?" I asked.
He smiled wistfully. "She always talked about exploring the world, chase her dreams."
Then he slid me a boxing tournament application.
My stomach dropped. "Her dream, not mine. I'm perfectly happy being a couch potato with zero ambitions."
"Liv, I know better than that."
James always saw right through me.
Which meant he definitely knew about my feelings—hence the reminder about his one true love.
Seeing me sulk, he played his ace card:
"Just compete. Win or lose, you get a hundred grand."
"Swear on it!"
I snatched the application, grinning while warning him no take-backs.
James hooked me up with a killer gym and top trainers. I dove headfirst into prep, drowning my feelings in sweat and exhaustion.
Or maybe just hiding behind the pain, using training as emotional anesthesia.
He kept up his usual nagging via text.
"Go easy on dessert tonight—weigh-ins are coming. If cravings hit, just sleep it off. Count cupcakes till you pass out."
"OK."
"Coach says you're blanking on the rules? Slapped Post-its everywhere. Read 'em when you see 'em."
"Sure."
"Liv, why didn't you tell me about your swollen hands? Got you some ointment—apply twice daily, keep dry for two hours after."
"Yep."
Looking back at our texts from when I was ice-cold toward him...
All my responses were cold and clipped.
He never sent voice notes—claimed I'd just delete them since I "couldn't stand listening to his lectures."
Truth was, I loved them.
Never had a mom who worried enough to nag, or a dad who gave a damn about my dreams.
James filled both roles.
He didn't just give me money—he gave me worth.
That's why I couldn't risk loving him later.
He'd done too much for me already. I refused to become his burden.
So this robot claiming he loved me? Impossible!
I set the mechanical dog on his desk and bolted upright, desperate to escape a truth I wasn't ready for.
CRASH!
My belt snagged the drawer handle, sending everything flying.
I knelt to clean up the mess and froze.
Pictures. Hundreds of them. All starring me.
Weird angles—like someone shooting from above. Almost stalker-ish.
Me pummeling a punching bag. Sprawled on grass. Heels stuck in mud, looking ridiculous. Hiding behind bushes while sneaking cake. Zoned out, daydreaming...
End of Husband Dead, Millions in Hand...But Wait—He'd Loved Me a Decade! Chapter 7. Continue reading Chapter 8 or return to Husband Dead, Millions in Hand...But Wait—He'd Loved Me a Decade! book page.