Mr. Harrison, Wake Up—Your Wife's Gone novel Chapter 8

Chapter 8

So Nathan was involved. Of course he was.

“Do they know?” Amelia asked carefully. She didn’t need to spell it out–Louie would understand she was asking if Vivian knew “Amor” was really Amelia Visconti.

“No way,” Louie said immediately. “I’m a hundred percent sure.“]]

Amelia sat in her car watching traffic crawl by, processing this mess. Finally, she made up her mind.[]

She called Mount Sinai to push back her appointment, then told Louie she was coming over.[]

“Thank God. Hurry.”

Twenty minutes later, Amelia was walking into Cavendish Entertainment wearing oversized sunglasses, a baseball cap, and a face mask. Her new Louboutin heels clicked confidently across the marble lobby.

“Amor!” Louie’s relief was obvious when she walked into his corner office. He did a double–take at her sleek new look but didn’t comment. “They’re in

the conference room.”

Through the glass walls, Amelia could see Nathan and Vivian sitting at the massive table like they owned the place. The second she entered, Vivian popped up with her trademark fragile smile.]

“Oh my God, Amor! I’m Vivian Hope–I don’t know if you’ve heard of me?” She looked like a gentle breeze could knock her over. “I am such a huge fan of your work. This song… it speaks to my soul.“[]

Amelia said nothing, just glanced at Nathan. He was completely focused on Vivian like she was the only person in the room.[]

“Miss Hope,” Louie jumped in, “like I told you on the phone, this particular song isn’t for sale.”

Vivian ignored him entirely, turning those big, watery eyes on Amelia. “Please, I’m begging you. This song means everything to me.” She suddenly winced like she was fighting through pain.[]

Nathan immediately looked concerned, but Vivian just gave him a brave little smile and kept staring at Amelia.

“I know this might sound dramatic, but I’m dying. Six months, maybe less.” Her voice cracked. “Could you please just… grant a dying woman’s last wish?”

Amelia nearly snorted. Another dying wish. First it was marrying Nathan, now it was stealing her song. What was next–wanting her kidney?]

“What if I said no?” Amelia asked, deliberately pitching her voice lower and raspier.[]

Vivian’s mouth fell open like she’d been slapped.[]

“Look, I’ve seen the headlines,” Amelia continued in that same gravelly tone. “Famous florist’s death countdown, trending everywhere. But my music is my business. I don’t owe you shit just because you’re sick. And honestly? I have no clue what you even want this for.“[]

She paused. “Your Instagram followers? Or maybe your funeral playlist?“[]

“Are you fucking serious right now?” Vivian started coughing dramatically. Nathan immediately started rubbing her back while shooting death glares at Amelia–the first time he’d even acknowledged her existence.[]

“That was completely out of line,” Nathan said coldly. His voice had that CEO edge she knew so well. “She’s dying, for Christ’s sake.“[]

Amelia studied his face–the sharp jawline, the expensive haircut, the perfectly pressed shirt she’d picked out for him months ago. So he had been back to the penthouse. He knew she’d moved out and clearly didn’t give a damn.[]

Perfect

“I think ambushing people is more out of line,” Amelia said evenly. “Don’t dish it out if you can’t take it.“[]

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Chapter 8

Nathan’s expression darkened.]

“Hey, it’s okay,” Vivian said softly, touching Nathan’s arm like she was calming down a wild animal. “Let me try again.“]

The conference room’s lighting was all warm and modern, but somehow Vivian still managed to look like she was auditioning for a Victorian deathbed scene in her white designer suit.[]

“Amor, this song… it’s like you wrote it specifically for me,” Vivian said, gazing at Nathan. “Every word captures what I’ve been feeling.“[]

“The way you wrote about loving someone so deeply it hurts. The secrecy, the insecurity…“]

“The joy of giving everything to someone you love, and then…“[]

Her voice got smaller. “The despair when you realize time is running out.“[]

“That crushing hopelessness.“[]

“I’ve been living with that exact pain every single day. But the ending–where the narrator finds peace and lets go–that’s where I am now. Learning to accept my fate.”

Vivian’s performance was honestly pretty good. Her voice trembled at all the right moments, had that wise, world–weary quality that made people want to rescue her. Nathan was eating it up, his whole face soft with sympathy.

Amelia watched him look at Vivian with more tenderness than she’d seen in seven years of marriage.

Seven years of her life, and this bitch had gotten deeper into his heart in less than one.[]

“This song understands me,” Vivian continued. “And I think you’d want it to go to someone who really gets what you were trying to say, right?“]

The confidence in her voice said she thought the sale was a done deal. After all, if you’re selling music anyway, why not sell it to someone who appreciates it?

If only you knew.

Amelia wanted to laugh until she cried. This song was about her–about falling for Nathan, the brief happiness of their wedding, discovering his affair, and finally finding the strength to walk away.

Vivian was literally using Amelia’s own heartbreak to try to steal her art. The irony was so thick you could cut it with a knife.

Amelia couldn’t hold back a laugh.

Nathan’s eyes narrowed dangerously.[]

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