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My Husband Married a Heiress While I Buried His Mother Novel Cover

My Husband Married a Heiress While I Buried His Mother

Kaiya endures a thirty-hour Greyhound ride with her sleepy daughter, clutching nothing but an address and the memory of burying Erick's mother without him. She expects a reunion. Instead, Seattle delivers a brutal revelation: her husband has married an heiress. This modern romance novel delves into abandonment's raw ache, a child's fragile hope, and the dangerous pull of a love that lingers—wounding deeper than any betrayal.
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Chapter 3

Erick came back the following Tuesday. I saw him through the peephole before he knocked — standing in the hallway with another plastic bag, checking his watch like this was an appointment he was squeezing between other obligations.

I opened the door but kept my body in the frame.

"Kaiya's at daycare."

His smile faltered. "What time does she get back?"

"Four."

He glanced at his watch again. "I can wait."

"No."

Something flickered across his face. Annoyance, maybe. Or surprise that I'd said it out loud.

"Raelynn, I'm her father. I have a right—"

"You have the right to call first. You don't have the right to show up whenever it's convenient for you and expect her to drop everything."

He shifted the bag to his other hand. Through the plastic I could see a coloring book. Crayons.

"I'm trying here. I brought her something."

"You brought yourself something. A chance to feel like a good father for twenty minutes before you leave again."

His jaw tightened. "That's not fair."

"Leave the bag. I'll give it to her."

I held out my hand. He stared at it. For a moment I thought he might argue. Then he set the bag in my palm and stepped back.

"I'll call next time."

"Do that."

I closed the door. Locked it. Set the bag on the counter and stood there until the sound of his footsteps faded down the hall.

---

When Kaiya came home that afternoon, I gave her the coloring book. She opened it. Flipped through the pages. Set it on the floor next to the pink bear that still faced the wall.

"Daddy came by?"

"Yes."

"Is he coming back?"

I crouched down beside her. Smoothed her hair. "I don't know, baby."

She picked up Bun and held him against her chest. Her fingers found the re-stitched ear and traced the crooked line of thread.

"It's okay, Mama. Bun doesn't like him anyway."

Something cracked inside me. I pulled her close and pressed my face into her hair so she wouldn't see.

---

Erick came back again the next week. This time he called first. I told him he could have thirty minutes on Saturday afternoon.

He arrived exactly on time with a toy kitchen set still in the box. Too big for our apartment. Too expensive for a man who'd handed me a twenty-dollar bill three weeks ago and told me to be reasonable.

Kaiya sat on the floor and watched him assemble it. He talked while he worked — cheerful, animated, performing fatherhood like a role he'd rehearsed.

"See, sweetheart? You can pretend to cook just like Mama."

Kaiya didn't answer. She held Bun in her lap and watched Erick's hands snap plastic pieces together.

When he finished, he stood back and grinned. "What do you think?"

She looked at the kitchen. At him. Back at the kitchen.

"Thank you."

Her voice was small and polite. The voice she used with strangers.

Erick's smile dimmed slightly. He glanced at me. I kept my face blank.

He crouched down and touched her shoulder. "I'll come see you again soon, okay?"

Kaiya nodded.

He stood. Walked to the door. Stopped.

"She'll warm up. Kids just need time."

I said nothing.

After he left, Kaiya walked over to the toy kitchen. She opened the little plastic oven. Closed it. Opened the cupboard. Closed it.

Then she walked away and didn't touch it again.

---

Across the city, Kataleya Garza sat at her new dining table with her datebook open. The table was cherry wood. Eight chairs. Wedding gift from her father.

She clicked her pen and wrote in the margin next to Saturday's date: *Gone 2–5 pm. Said factory inventory. Came home smelling like children's shampoo.*

She stared at the words. Clicked the pen again. Closed the book.

Erick walked into the room. "You ready for dinner?"

She looked up. Smiled. "Almost."

He kissed the top of her head and walked toward the bedroom.

Kataleya opened the datebook again. Turned back three pages. Read the entries she'd made over the past two weeks.

*Tuesday — phone face-down on counter. Screen lit up. Turned it over before I could see.*

*Thursday — said he had a work dinner. Came home at 9. No food smell on his clothes.*

*Sunday — asked about 'your cousin Raelynn.' He paused half a second before answering. Said she went back to Tennessee.*

She tapped the pen against the page.

Half a second. Most people wouldn't notice. But Kataleya had spent her whole life watching her father negotiate contracts across boardroom tables. She knew what a tell looked like.

She pulled out her phone. Opened a browser. Typed: *Private investigators Seattle.*

Thirty results appeared.

She scrolled through them. Clicked on the third one. Read the services offered: *Background checks. Surveillance. Asset searches. Infidelity investigation.*

Her finger hovered over the phone number.

From the bedroom, Erick called out. "Kataleya? You coming?"

She closed the browser. Set the phone down. Stared at it.

Then she picked it up again and saved the number under a contact labeled *S. Reeves — Catering.*

She stood. Smoothed her skirt. Walked toward the bedroom with her datebook tucked under her arm.

Erick was changing his shirt. He smiled at her in the mirror.

"Everything okay?"

"Everything's fine."

She smiled back. Set the datebook on the dresser. Watched him button his cuffs.

And made a mental note to check his phone the next time he left it unattended.

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