He Left Me Buried (Billionaire Grovel #3)

I flew to Tokyo to teach a room full of officials how to survive a 7.0. Ninety minutes into the afternoon session I was under the building instead of standing in it — two cracked ribs, a bleeding arm, and a pocket of air three feet high.

My phone had one bar left. I spent it on my husband.

He saw my name and pressed decline.

Twelve hours passed before Silas started calling back. Forty-seven times. By then I’d stopped waiting, and something inside me had gone quiet and clean and final.

They pulled me out after two days. I filed for divorce from the hospital bed and boarded a plane before his ever landed.

Vietnam. Chiang Mai. Bangkok. A backpack, a rented room, cracked pipes and village wells — work that was mine long before it was ever his.

I went looking for the woman who existed before him.

I found her.

Now he’s found me.