I Am Dead To You Husband

Chapter 5

Cole Lopez leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers as he listened to his team's final remark. After an hour of intense brainstorming, he leaned forward, adjourning the meeting.

"Alright, I think that covers everything. Let's reconvene next week to discuss the financials."

The team nodded and began gathering their belongings, while Cole stood, smoothing his tailored suit. With a curt nod at the team, he turned to leave, but Rachel, his PA, appeared in the doorway.

"Sir, I'm sorry to interrupt, but you need to see this," she said, her voice urgent as she stretched out her iPad to him.

Cole's face flashed with annoyance. Couldn't she have just shown him whatever it was that was so important in his office? He valued efficiency and disliked interruptions.

"You could have at least waited until I left the conference room," he spat as he grabbed the iPad from her.

"If it wasn't urgent, I wouldn't have bothered you, sir," Rachel retorted, but her voice remained calm and polite.

Cole scanned the screen, his eyes locking on the bold letters that read:

CAMILA MILLER; WIFE OF BILLIONAIRE LAWSON MILLER BELIEVED TO BE AMONG FATAL ACCIDENT VICTIMS

"It's the accident on the highway. Many bodies are unidentifiable, and your sister hasn't been found yet," Rachel explained, but the only words Cole picked up were 'accident,' 'Camila,' and 'unidentifiable.'

A cold dread crept up his spine. His sister, the only family he had, was a victim in that accident that happened a day ago. And she hasn't been found?

Cole's face darkened, and he flung the iPad back to Rachel. "What do you mean they can't identify the victims?" he growled, his heart racing. "Get me the chief of police on the phone. Now."

Rachel took a step back, her eyes widening slightly at Cole's outburst. "Sir, I'll try to get him on the phone, but—"

Cole cut her off, his voice rising. "I don't pay you to think, Rachel. I pay you to get things done. Now, get me that phone call!"

Rachel, having recovered from his earlier outburst, fumbled with the iPad, meanwhile Cole wasn't done giving orders.

"Get me every detail about the accident. I want to know everything," he said, clutching his forehead and beginning to pace in the room as all eyes were on him—the team that hadn't left. But he wasn't bothered; his mind was playing the worst-case scenario.

Rachel nodded, her fingers flying across her phone's screen. "I'm on it, sir. But I have to warn you, the news is saying it's a devastating scene. Multiple fatalities, and...and the authorities are still trying to identify the victims."

Cole's jaw clenched. He felt a cold sweat break out on his forehead as he struggled to maintain his composure.

Cole stopped pacing and turned to Rachel as if finally realizing something. "Forget about the chief of police. Did the article say what hospital Camila was taken to?"

Rachel's eyes widened slightly, but she quickly composed herself. "I'm trying to find out, sir. But the authorities are still trying to—"

Cole cut her off, his voice filled with desperation. "Find out, Rachel. I need to know where my sister is."

*********

Lawson stood in front of the morgue, his feet rooted to the spot. The news he received a few minutes ago echoed in his mind—a woman matching Camila's description had been found and was being held at this very morgue.

He didn't want to go inside; he didn't want to face the possibility that the person on the slab could be Camila. He had been searching for her everywhere, but not like this. Not in a morgue, not as a dead body.

Lawson took a deep breath, steeling himself for what was to come. But he had to know, just to be sure. With a heavy heart, he pushed open the door and stepped inside. The chill of the air conditioning enveloped him, and the antiseptic smell of disinfectant filled his nostrils.

Rows of stainless steel tables lined the room, each one bearing a sheet-covered body.

"Mr. Lawson, I'm Dr. Patel. I'll be assisting you with the identification," an attendant dressed in a white lab coat greeted Lawson, stretching his hand for a shake.

Lawson ignored the outstretched hand, his eyes fixed on the doctor. "Where is she?"

Dr. Patel's expression was sympathetic, but his voice was neutral. "Please, follow me, Mr. Lawson."

Lawson trailed behind the doctor, his heart hammering in his chest. He braced himself for what he was about to see, hoping that this person wouldn't be Camila. They stopped in front of a table, and Dr. Patel gently pulled back the sheet.

"The body is a female, approximately in her mid-20s, with severe burns and injuries consistent with a high-impact accident."

Lawson's eyes locked onto the body, and his breath hitched. The face was distorted, the skin charred and burned. Despite this, there were strands of blonde hair on her head. But the ears...the ears were familiar.

"There are two piercings in each earlobe," the doctor continued, but the rest of his words drowned in Lawson's ears. Everything else faded into the background.

This couldn't be Camila, right? Though the hair might be blonde and this person had two piercings in each earlobe, it could be someone else who happened to match the description.

The answers mocked him in the face, but he refused to admit that the woman lying in the morgue was Camila.

"Sir, I need to confirm...is this the person you've been looking for, Camila Miller?" Dr. Patel asked softly, but Lawson remained fixed on the body, frozen. Unable to bring himself to say the words, to confirm that Camila was indeed gone. He felt a lump form in his throat as he struggled to find his voice.

Dr. Patel's expression was sympathetic, but his tone remained professional. "Mr. Lawson, I need you to confirm the identity. Is this Camila Miller?"

Lawson didn't nod, couldn't respond; he just stood there staring at the body like it was a nightmare, one he couldn't wake up from.

"Sir?"

He couldn't accept the cruel reality, so without a word, he turned around and walked away, leaving the attendant speechless.

Lawson stumbled out of the morgue. He felt numb and disconnected, as if he were watching a movie of his own life. He couldn't bring himself to confirm what he knew in his heart to be true. Saying the words, "Yes, that's Camila," felt like a final, irrevocable act.

He slipped into his car, slammed the door behind him, and leaned back in the seat. Their final argument, the last and forever one that would never get to resolve, echoed in his mind like a haunting replay. The memory of Camila's angry tears and her hurtful words flashed in his mind.

If he had stopped her from leaving, she would still be alive right now. If he had remained composed, even when Camila was trying to get the truth from him, maybe the argument wouldn't have escalated to the point where she was blinded by rage.

He massaged his temples, one hand gripping the steering wheel as if it was the only thing holding him together. He slammed his fist against the dashboard, forcing himself not to scream in rage against the unfairness of it all. But a grunt escaped his lips, a primal sound that betrayed his fragile control.

He stayed there for hours, drowning in his grief.

Finally, he stirred, pulling out his phone to call his assistant.

"Hello, sir—"

"Call the morgue; I've confirmed the body..." he whispered, trying to keep his voice steady. "Tell them it's Camila."