Six Feet of Love

Halle's POV

I'm the eighteenth-generation guardian of my family's ancestral graves. One night, by pure chance, I saved a man who'd been buried alive.

That man was Alexis Stanley—a powerful figure from Washington, D.C. With my help, he faked his death and vanished. Then, he returned to the city to destroy his enemies.

Later, he came back with a million dollars… and married me.

But five years later, his ex-wife, Janice Brewer, reappeared. She'd divorced and returned from overseas, desperate for medical treatment—one that required a placenta.

Without hesitation, Alexis forced me—seven months pregnant—into an early C-section. Just like that, our child was gone.

And yet, his expression never wavered.

"If you hadn't stopped me from going back to D.C. all those years ago, Janice wouldn't have been forced into another marriage. She wouldn't be sick now."

"Halle, you owe her this. The child had to be sacrificed."

But Janice wasn't finished.

She wanted my family's land—the graveyard we'd protected for centuries.

"Alexis," she cooed, "the spiritual healer said I need a peaceful place to recover. Miss Halle's old cemetery would be perfect."

So Alexis sent men to desecrate our ancestral tombs.

Sixty-eight skeletons.

My bloodline, my people—dumped like trash in a wasteland. Our gravestones were shattered, reduced to rubble.

In that moment, whatever love I still had for Alexis died with them.

What they never realized was this: the grave keepers in my family didn't guard the dead.

We guarded those who wandered in… and never found their way out.

At the airport, I clutched my phone, staring at a photo—scattered bones lying in the dirt. Tears burned behind my eyes.

My assistant, Maggie Fraley, wiped her own tears away.

"Madam… how could Mr. Stanley do this? These were your family. Even if he wanted the land, the least he could've done was give them a proper burial."

"You just lost your baby. You haven't even recovered. How could he keep hurting you like this?"

My voice was hollow, detached, as if I were speaking about someone else's pain. "Because the woman he loves… isn't me."

Maggie frowned. "That can't be. Mr. Stanley spent a fortune on your wedding. Everyone said he was obsessed with you."

My grip tightened on the phone, a bitter smile twisting my lips.

No one knew the truth—that wedding was meant for Janice.

The dress had been tailored to her measurements. The invitations had her name, hastily scratched out and replaced with mine.

I'd lied to myself, pretending he'd just been too busy to plan properly. But we'd had three full months before the ceremony.

Looking back, I only regret one thing—letting greed blind me. Thinking I could melt a heart that belonged to someone else.