Chapter 39: Louis Investigates His Wife

Louis began with facts. Freya Stone had been born twenty-six years earlier, lost her parents before marrying him, studied interior design, dated Clement Knox, and spent most of their marriage living a socially active but professionally empty life. None of that had changed.

Her medical records showed no recent head injury. Her financial records showed nothing unusual before his bankruptcy. Her phone history contained no mysterious contacts, secret tutors, or hidden business activity. There was no reasonable explanation for the woman who had suddenly appeared in his apartment.

Derek placed the background file on the desk. "Everything matches what we already knew." "Go further back." "How far?" "School years." Derek stared at him. "Louis, are you investigating whether your wife was secretly replaced at age twelve?"

Louis gave him a cold look. Derek raised his hands. "Fine. School records."

The strange part was that Louis wasn't trying to expose Freya for wrongdoing. If anything, her transformation had benefited him. She had stayed when everyone expected her to leave, refused his money, built her own income, and treated him better during apparent bankruptcy than she ever had while he was wealthy.

But Louis hated unexplained variables. Freya had become the largest unexplained variable in his life.

That evening, he returned home to find her sitting cross-legged on the floor surrounded by shipping boxes. "Perfect timing," she said. "Help me tape this one."

Louis removed his coat and crouched beside her. "How many are left?" "Only twenty-something bags and maybe thirty outfits. I'm keeping more clothes than I originally planned."

He held the box while she taped it. Freya looked completely comfortable around him now. Weeks earlier, she had stiffened whenever their eyes met. The change had happened gradually after her larger transformation, as though she had learned him from the beginning.

"Freya," he said suddenly. "Do you remember our wedding?" Her hand stopped for a fraction of a second. "Random question." "Do you?"

Memories belonging to the original owner existed in fragments. Freya could recall the ceremony, Louis's expression, the hotel, and several guests. "Of course." She described a detail about his grandfather complaining that the flowers were too pale.

Louis nodded. The memory was accurate. "What about our first anniversary?" Freya frowned. "We had dinner at some restaurant and then went home separately, didn't we?"

Also accurate. Louis continued asking small questions until Freya became irritated. "Are you testing me?" "Maybe." "Why?"

He looked directly at her. "Because you've changed so much that sometimes you don't seem like the same person."

Freya's heartbeat stumbled. For one terrifying second, she wondered whether he somehow knew. Then she forced a laugh. "People change when their billionaire husband suddenly becomes poor."

"Not this much." His voice remained quiet. Freya held his gaze. "Would you prefer the old me?"

Louis answered immediately. "No." The certainty surprised both of them.

Freya looked away first. "Then stop investigating improvements." She pushed another box toward him. "Tape this."

Louis obeyed, but the question didn't disappear. He had no explanation for her, and for now he chose not to press harder. Whatever had happened to Freya, the woman sitting beside him had become someone he trusted more every day. That fact was beginning to matter more than the mystery itself.

After the last package was sealed, Freya stood and stretched. Louis carried the boxes toward the door without being asked. Watching him, she felt an unexpected warmth at how ordinary the moment seemed. She had entered this apartment believing she would stay only until he recovered. Somewhere between shared breakfasts, suspicious cars, contracts, and shipping boxes, temporary life had begun feeling dangerously comfortable.