Husband Dead, Millions in Hand...But Wait—He'd Loved Me a Decade! - Chapter 8: Chapter 8
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The background in all of them—our downstairs courtyard.
This angle was from...?
I moved to the study window and peered down.
Yep—the tree, my punching bag, that patch of grass, the hydrangea bushes.
Hands trembling, I flipped through the photos as a memory surfaced.
After training one day, I'd tried sneaking up on James.
Crept to his study door, ready to jump-scare him, when I caught him staring at something.
"James! Whatcha looking at?"
He nearly jumped out of his skin, quickly flipping whatever it was face-down.
His voice cracked with panic: "Liv! Jesus!"
I'd assumed he was pining over his lost love again, and fled before he could lecture me.
A terrifying realization started taking shape.
At the bottom of the stack was a sketched portrait.
Amateur artist, but he'd captured the subject perfectly.
Matted hair. Grimy clothes. Kid sitting outside a bakery with cake, small scar cutting across her eyebrow.
I touched the matching scar on my forehead—always been there, origin story lost to time.
Maybe the car accident. Maybe one of Dad's beatings.
Those memories were buried so deep I'd stopped trying to dig them up.
But this drawing brought it all roaring back.
Mom was still home then, but constantly fighting with Dad about money.
I hated their screaming matches, so I'd scavenge bottles after school for cash.
The day I saved James from those bullies, I turned to see his porcelain face—clean uniform, hair that smelled like shampoo.
Suddenly I felt like garbage.
But James kept tailing me around, watching kids mock me.
Even tried throwing pity money at me.
That's why I called him a freak and told him to scram—pure wounded pride.
I didn't hate him. I liked him. Wanted to be his friend.
But I couldn't stand him seeing how pathetic I was.
We'd met before. That's how he recognized me all those years later.
This revelation shattered me.
God, I wished he'd never loved me!
I turned on the robot dog, voice breaking.
"James, why do you love me! Why do you love me! Why—"
I kept repeating the question like a broken record.
The dog responded, but I barely registering its responses.
Finally, its eyes dimmed as it whispered:
"Olivia, I'm sorry I love you."
Then the lights went out completely.
Terror flooded my system. What happened? Was he leaving me again?
How could he abandon me twice!
I couldn't bear the thought of existing without James's gentle voice.
I clutched the dead robot and speed-dialed Ethan.
"Ethan! He's gone!"
"Olivia, stay calm. James is finally at peace. He wouldn't want you losing it like this."
"No, you don't get it! He came back, but now he's gone again!"
My words tumbled out in a frantic mess. "Ethan, your brother's robot stopped talking..."
Tears hitting the silent plastic as I frantically wiped them away.
"James, talk to me!"
"Are you mad I wasn't paying attention? My bad!"
I couldn't handle Silent James.
A month ago, that's when I learned James was dying.
My mind went completely blank.
He'd been coding just last week.
He'd congratulated me on my match just yesterday.
How could he be dying?
What the hell did "dying" even mean?
I caught the first red-eye home, racing to the hospital, only to find James more fragile than ever.
Lying there like he was already halfway gone.
This angle was from...?
I moved to the study window and peered down.
Yep—the tree, my punching bag, that patch of grass, the hydrangea bushes.
Hands trembling, I flipped through the photos as a memory surfaced.
After training one day, I'd tried sneaking up on James.
Crept to his study door, ready to jump-scare him, when I caught him staring at something.
"James! Whatcha looking at?"
He nearly jumped out of his skin, quickly flipping whatever it was face-down.
His voice cracked with panic: "Liv! Jesus!"
I'd assumed he was pining over his lost love again, and fled before he could lecture me.
A terrifying realization started taking shape.
At the bottom of the stack was a sketched portrait.
Amateur artist, but he'd captured the subject perfectly.
Matted hair. Grimy clothes. Kid sitting outside a bakery with cake, small scar cutting across her eyebrow.
I touched the matching scar on my forehead—always been there, origin story lost to time.
Maybe the car accident. Maybe one of Dad's beatings.
Those memories were buried so deep I'd stopped trying to dig them up.
But this drawing brought it all roaring back.
Mom was still home then, but constantly fighting with Dad about money.
I hated their screaming matches, so I'd scavenge bottles after school for cash.
The day I saved James from those bullies, I turned to see his porcelain face—clean uniform, hair that smelled like shampoo.
Suddenly I felt like garbage.
But James kept tailing me around, watching kids mock me.
Even tried throwing pity money at me.
That's why I called him a freak and told him to scram—pure wounded pride.
I didn't hate him. I liked him. Wanted to be his friend.
But I couldn't stand him seeing how pathetic I was.
We'd met before. That's how he recognized me all those years later.
This revelation shattered me.
God, I wished he'd never loved me!
I turned on the robot dog, voice breaking.
"James, why do you love me! Why do you love me! Why—"
I kept repeating the question like a broken record.
The dog responded, but I barely registering its responses.
Finally, its eyes dimmed as it whispered:
"Olivia, I'm sorry I love you."
Then the lights went out completely.
Terror flooded my system. What happened? Was he leaving me again?
How could he abandon me twice!
I couldn't bear the thought of existing without James's gentle voice.
I clutched the dead robot and speed-dialed Ethan.
"Ethan! He's gone!"
"Olivia, stay calm. James is finally at peace. He wouldn't want you losing it like this."
"No, you don't get it! He came back, but now he's gone again!"
My words tumbled out in a frantic mess. "Ethan, your brother's robot stopped talking..."
Tears hitting the silent plastic as I frantically wiped them away.
"James, talk to me!"
"Are you mad I wasn't paying attention? My bad!"
I couldn't handle Silent James.
A month ago, that's when I learned James was dying.
My mind went completely blank.
He'd been coding just last week.
He'd congratulated me on my match just yesterday.
How could he be dying?
What the hell did "dying" even mean?
I caught the first red-eye home, racing to the hospital, only to find James more fragile than ever.
Lying there like he was already halfway gone.
End of Husband Dead, Millions in Hand...But Wait—He'd Loved Me a Decade! Chapter 8. Continue reading Chapter 9 or return to Husband Dead, Millions in Hand...But Wait—He'd Loved Me a Decade! book page.