Chapter 7: The Coward’s Confession
One day, on my way back to the estate, Jackson Evans suddenly stopped me. He stepped out from behind a hedge, his suit rumpled, his eyes wild. He grabbed my arm, his grip desperate. He looked haggard, eyes red, voice trembling. “Miss Tessa, where is my wife’s body? I know you’re not a cruel person at heart. Please, have some compassion and let me bury her properly.” His words were almost a plea, his voice cracking with emotion. But I saw the calculation in his eyes, the way he glanced over his shoulder to make sure no one was watching. Exactly as in my previous life. The déjà vu was suffocating. I remembered how this played out last time—and I wasn’t about to make the same mistake again.
He looked so sincere, but I knew the truth—he just wanted to find her body so a pastor could perform a service and ease his guilty conscience. He didn’t care about Mariah, not really. He just wanted to wash his hands of her, to make himself feel better.
I sneered and took a step back. “Mayor Evans, you’re certainly devoted. But if you truly cared, why wait a whole month to ask? Her body must be rotting by now—what were you doing all this time?” My words were sharp, but I didn’t care. I wanted him to feel the sting of his own cowardice.
Jackson froze, pain twisting his face. “It’s my fault, Mariah. But Savannah has me under her thumb—if I disobey, I’m afraid…” He trailed off, his voice barely more than a whisper.
I felt a flicker of disgust. He was always quick to blame someone else. “That’s enough, Mayor Evans.” I cut him off flatly. “I do as Miss Langley commands, and I keep her secrets. If you want to know, ask Savannah yourself. Oh, and before she died, your wife left you a message—” I leaned in close, my voice low and cold. “She said she hoped you’d rot in hell for what you did to her.” I watched the color drain from his face, and for the first time, I saw real fear in his eyes. Good. Let him suffer, just a little, for all the pain he’d caused.













