Rebirth In Divorce My New Mr. Perfect (by Summer Knowles) novel Chapter 473

Matthew, already aware of the history between the two, simply left without another word.

Vivian turned to Zachary, her expression soft and innocent. "Zachary, it seems Miss Sanders has some misunderstandings about me."

"Zachary!" Sarah’s voice was sharp, filled with urgency. "Tina’s death is connected to her. I’ve found the evidence!" Her eyes shone with determination.

Vivian’s gentle expression faltered, her eyes darkening with irritation. "Zachary, her so-called ‘evidence’ means nothing. She’s making things up just to frame me."

Zachary remained silent, his sharp gaze moving between the two women. His hands clenched slightly, but he said nothing.

Sarah looked at him, disappointment flickering in her eyes before she turned back to Vivian.

"Vivian, did you push her?" she demanded.

Vivian shrugged. "No."

Then, in a sudden move, she leaned in close, whispering in Sarah’s ear.

"I followed her up to the rooftop that day. We had an agreement. But at the last moment, she changed her mind. I had no choice—she wouldn’t listen to reason. So I had to take matters into my own hands."

Sarah’s eyes widened in shock, her lips parting in disbelief.

"It was you…" she whispered.

"Why? How could you be so cruel?"

"Cruel?" Vivian chuckled. "You think that was cruel? You have no idea what real cruelty is."

She glanced at her assistant, who was waiting impatiently by the car. "But I don’t have time for this."

Turning, she strode toward her vehicle, completely unbothered.

"You’re not leaving! We’re not done talking!" Sarah tried to stop her, her voice shaking with rage.

But Vivian simply waved her off and got into the car.

Just as Sarah moved to chase after her, Zachary blocked her path.

Anyone else, and she wouldn’t have been so stunned.

But he was the one stopping her.

"Why?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

The woman’s face engraved into the stone was strikingly beautiful.

Beneath it, the words read: In Loving Memory of Rudy White, A Devoted Mother.

Fresh roses and carnations lay at the base of the grave.

For once, the coldness in Zachary’s eyes softened, revealing something rare—an unguarded trace of warmth.

After his mother’s death, his father had been too grief-stricken to stay, choosing instead to leave the country. But Zachary had never accepted the official cause of her death.

Sarah stood a few steps away, watching in silence.

Suddenly, everything about him—the way he carried himself, the weight in his gaze—felt different.

He had watched his mother die in front of him.

What kind of pain did that leave behind?

The man standing before the tombstone seemed to have finally shed the armor he had worn for so long.

The mask of strength slipped, revealing—for just a moment—a wounded soul beneath.