Chapter 9
The trial took six months.
Six long, painful months.
Every day, we had to relive the worst moments of our lives.
The fire.
The lies.
The three years apart.
The media was everywhere.
The story of the dead wife who came back, of the evil best friend who had stolen her life, of the betrayal that had destroyed a family—it was everywhere.
Newspapers.
Television.
Social media.
Everyone had an opinion.
But through it all, we had each other.
Andrew was my rock.
The boys were my reason to keep going.
Carter's evidence was overwhelming.
The emails.
The financial records.
The DNA test that proved beyond any doubt that I was Elena Cole, the mother of Liam and Noah.
The testimony from the fire investigator who had been paid off to rule the fire an accident.
The testimony from the doctor who had signed the fake death certificate.
The school employee who had agreed to help Vivian kidnap the boys, in exchange for immunity.
Marcus took a plea deal halfway through.
He testified against Vivian.
Told the court everything.
How they had planned the fire.
How Vivian had set it herself, while Marcus had made sure Andrew was at a late business meeting.
How they had left me for dead.
How Vivian had visited me in the hospital and told me my family was dead, to break me so I wouldn't come back.
The jury didn't take long.
Two days of deliberation.
Guilty on all counts.
Arson.
Attempted murder.
Fraud.
Conspiracy to kidnap.
Vivian was sentenced to forty years in prison.
With no possibility of parole.
Marcus got twenty-five.
Justice was served.
But it didn't feel like victory.
Not at first.
It felt like the end of a very long, very painful road.
And we had to figure out what came next.
Andrew's divorce from Vivian was finalized a month after the trial.
Legally, she had never been his wife.
The marriage had been based on fraud.
It was annulled.
Which meant Andrew was still a widower.
And I was still legally dead.
That took another three months to fix.
Paperwork.
Court hearings.
More DNA tests.
But finally, the day came.
A judge signed the order.
Elena Marie Cole was alive.
And she was still married to Andrew James Carter.
Legally.
Officially.
Really.
We stood in the judge's chambers.
Andrew was holding my hand.
The boys were sitting in the front row, coloring, not really understanding what was happening but knowing it was something good.
The judge smiled at us.
"Welcome back, Mrs. Carter," he said.
I smiled through my tears.
"Thank you."
When we walked out of the courthouse, the sun was shining.
It was a beautiful day.
The kind of day that makes you believe in second chances.
Andrew stopped on the steps.
He turned to me.
The boys were waiting by the car, talking excitedly about ice cream.
"Elena," he said.
I looked at him.
"I know we're still married on paper," he said. "And I know the last few months have been... a lot. And I know I don't deserve you. Not after everything that happened."
He reached into his pocket.
He pulled out a small box.
My breath caught.
He opened it.
Inside was the ring.
The original ring.
The one he had made himself, all those years ago.
The one I thought had been lost in the fire.
"I found it," he said. "Vivian had it. In a safe deposit box. Carter found it last week."
He knelt down on the steps of the courthouse.
"Elena Marie Cole," he said. His voice was clear and strong. "I know we've already been married for eight years. I know we've been through hell and back. But I want to do it right this time. I want to marry you again. Not because of a piece of paper. Not because of a judge's order. Because I love you. Because you are the best thing that ever happened to me. Because I want to spend the rest of my life making it up to you. Will you marry me? Again?"
People were watching.
Cameras were flashing.
But I didn't care.
All I saw was Andrew.
The man I loved.
The father of my children.
The man who had fought for me.
"Yes," I said. My voice was shaking. "Yes. A thousand times yes."
He slipped the ring on my finger.
It fit perfectly.
Just like it always had.
May you like
He stood up and kissed me.
And for the first time in three years, I felt completely, utterly alive.
