I blinked. “What does this have to do with you faking your death at our wedding?”

He glanced around the bus, then back at me. “I agreed.”

“What?”

“They transferred the money a few days before the wedding. A lot of it. Enough that we’d never have to worry again. I moved it right away.”

I stared at him. “And now what? You came back from the dead to tell me we’re rich?”

“I came back to get you. So we can disappear.”

“Why would we disappear?”

“You don’t understand.” He let out a harsh breath. “I lied. I never planned to go back to my parents or let them control our lives.”

I leaned back in my seat. “That’s why you faked your death? To steal from your parents?”

“It’s freedom,” he said, leaning closer. “Don’t you see? If I had kept my promise, they would control everything—our lives, our future, our kids. This way, we get the money without the strings.”

I covered my mouth with my hand.

He kept going, almost eager now. “We can go anywhere. Start over. I’ll give you the life you deserve.”

I looked at his face and saw no real guilt. No understanding of what he had put me through.

“You let me plan your funeral,” I said.

Karl flinched. “I know that was hard.”

“Hard?” My voice rose. “I watched them carry you out while I was still in my wedding dress.”

A man two rows ahead turned to stare.

Karl lowered his voice again. “I said I’m sorry. I knew you’d understand once I explained. I did this for us… You can see that, can’t you?”

That hit harder than anything else.

“No. You did it for the money, Karl.”

“That’s not fair.” He leaned closer, irritation creeping in. “You have no idea what kind of opportunity this is. I didn’t want to burden you with the decision, babe.”

“Burden me? No… you just didn’t want me to say no.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. Watching him struggle to understand why I wasn’t jumping at the chance made something inside me settle into place.

I reached into my handbag, found my phone by touch, and turned the screen on. I didn’t take it out—I just left the bag open on my lap, microphone facing up.

“How did you do it?” I asked. “The whole thing. The paramedics, the doctor…”

He hesitated. Then muttered, “Daniel helped. The paramedics were actors. They thought it was for some kind of filmed event. And the doctor owed him a favor.”

By then, people around us were openly listening. An older woman across the aisle leaned forward.

“Excuse me,” she said. “I don’t mean to interfere, but did this man pretend to die at his own wedding?”