How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue novel Chapter 884

As for Lucy’s question, Fleming had nothing to hide. He answered honestly, “We’ve shared nearly twenty years together.”

That single sentence could be read a number of ways.

It meant their history was long—possibly unbreakable.

Lucy’s fists tightened wordlessly, her gaze locking onto Fleming’s for a fleeting second.

But she was clever. Instead of digging deeper and pushing for answers, she simply sidestepped the topic, her voice light. “You’re right. It’s fine, really. I get it.”

She nodded understandingly, the picture of composure—showing her dependence on him, but never crossing the line.

Fleming looked at Lucy. There were things he could only pretend not to see. Whatever she felt for him, or thought, he couldn’t return in kind.

Just as well. He and Esmeralda were, for better or worse, destined.

After parting ways with Lucy, Fleming got into his car, scowling.

Esmeralda’s emotions had been volatile lately. Even knowing she was all bluster, that she’d never truly let him go, he still hated to see her tangled up in unfounded worries.

If she was unhappy, he couldn’t feel at ease either.

He thought for a moment, then decided to give Esmeralda a call. Maybe a little reassurance would help, so they could focus on planning the wedding.

Esmeralda’s name was pinned at the very top of his contacts.

But just as his finger hovered to dial, his father’s name flashed on the screen.

Fleming answered, still frowning.

“What’s going on with you?” his father snapped without preamble. “I told you to come over to the Mercer family house so we could settle the marriage license details. Too busy, are you?”

Fleming pinched the bridge of his nose. “I had something urgent.”

“And what could possibly be more important than finalizing your marriage license?”

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