7YRS AFTER MY FUNERAL- I RETURN WITH THE BILLIONAIRE'S TWINS

Rain fell mercilessly over Ashford City.

Not soft rain.

Violent rain.

The kind that made the world feel colder than it already was.

Black umbrellas filled the cemetery while reporters stood behind barricades whispering into microphones about the tragedy that had shaken the entire city.

Because three days ago…

Cate Sullivan died in a fire.

And according to rumors—

She had been carrying Dylan Carter’s child.

The headlines had exploded instantly:

BILLIONAIRE HEIR LOSES PREGNANT FIANCÉE IN MYSTERIOUS FIRE

WAS IT AN ACCIDENT OR SOMETHING MORE?

THE TRAGIC LOVE STORY OF DYLAN CARTER

The media called it heartbreaking.

But heartbreak was too small a word for what stood beside Cate’s coffin now.

Dylan Carter did not look heartbroken.

He looked destroyed.

At thirty-two, the billionaire CEO of Carter Enterprises had always been feared for his coldness:

emotionless,

untouchable,

impossible to read.

But today…

He looked like a man barely holding himself together through sheer force.

Rain soaked through his black suit untouched.

People whispered nervously nearby:

“He hasn’t slept.”

“He hasn’t spoken properly since the fire.”

“They say he identified her himself.”

“No… they say there wasn’t enough left to identify completely…”

That rumor spread quietly through the crowd.

Because the truth was horrifying.

The apartment explosion had burned almost everything.

Even now… some investigators privately questioned whether Cate’s body had truly been recovered fully.

But no one dared say that near Dylan.

Not today.

At the front row, Evelyn Carter silently cried into a handkerchief while Dylan’s grandmother clutched her arm weakly.

Meanwhile…

Vanessa Whitmore stood several feet behind them dressed in elegant black.

Perfect posture. Perfect makeup. Perfect fake sadness.

But her eyes remained fixed on Dylan.

Obsessively.

And the longer she watched him stare at Cate’s coffin…

…the more hatred quietly grew inside her chest.

Because even now— even after death—

Cate Sullivan still owned every piece of Dylan Carter.

The priest’s voice softened through the rain.

“Catherine Sullivan was remembered as kind, selfless, and deeply loved—”

Dylan suddenly walked forward.

The entire cemetery went silent instantly.

Because this was the first movement he had made in almost twenty minutes.

Slowly…

Dylan placed one trembling hand against the coffin.

And for the first time since the funeral began—

emotion cracked visibly across his face.

Pain.

Raw devastating pain.

His voice came out rough. Broken.

“She hated storms.”

Silence crushed the cemetery.

Evelyn burst into tears instantly.

Because God…

Dylan remembered everything about Cate.

Tiny things. Meaningless things. Things only people deeply in love remembered.

Rain continued pouring around them while Dylan stared at the coffin like his entire soul had been buried inside it.

Then quietly—

“She used to climb into my bed whenever it rained.”

The guests began crying openly now.

Even reporters lowered cameras slowly.

Because suddenly…

This no longer felt like billionaire tragedy gossip.

This felt horrifyingly real.

Dylan’s fingers tightened slightly against the coffin edge.

“She said thunder made her feel alone.”

His voice cracked completely.

And suddenly everyone understood something terrifying:

Dylan Carter was not surviving this.

Not really.

The priest quietly stepped back allowing him space.

But Dylan barely seemed aware anyone else existed.

Because in his mind…

He still saw her:

laughing,

arguing with him,

stealing his coffee,

placing his hand against her stomach when the baby first kicked.

God.

The baby.

The thought nearly destroyed him again.

His child.

Gone before he even got the chance to meet them.

Dylan closed his eyes briefly.

And suddenly—

A memory hit him violently.

Cate smiling against city lights.

Red wine spilling across his suit.

Her voice teasing softly:

“You look emotionally unavailable.”

The memory hurt so sharply he almost staggered.

Because that was the exact moment everything began.

And now…

She was gone.

The cemetery remained painfully silent while rain poured endlessly around them.

Then somewhere behind the crowd—

a reporter whispered carefully:

“They were supposed to get married next month.”

Dylan heard it.

Every word.

Slowly…

His gray eyes lifted toward the dark sky above the cemetery.

Empty.

Broken.

And for the first time since the fire…

He allowed himself to remember her properly.

Three days before Cate Sullivan died…

another woman publicly embarrassed herself over Dylan Carter.

And the entire elite circle of Ashford City still talked about it in whispers.

Because everyone knew one dangerous truth:

Dylan Carter never belonged to anyone.

Not emotionally. Not publicly. Not even temporarily.

Unfortunately…

Sophia Laurent refused accepting that reality.

The Laurent family hosted one of the largest luxury empire galas in Europe and Asia. Old money. International influence. Generational wealth.

Sophia herself was:

stunning,

shamelessly confident,

and dangerously obsessed with Dylan.

For almost a year she chased him publicly:

appearing at his office,

interrupting meetings,

grabbing his arm during events,

calling him “future husband” in interviews.

Most men would have loved the attention.

Dylan hated every second of it.

Unfortunately for Sophia…

Rejection only made her more obsessed.

And that night at the Laurent Gala?

She finally pushed too far.

The ballroom glittered beneath crystal lights while international business elites filled the massive hall with expensive laughter and fake sophistication.

At the center of it all—

Sophia stood beside Dylan in a silver dress designed to attract destruction.

Her hand rested possessively against his arm while photographers flashed cameras around them.

Meanwhile Dylan looked exactly as he always did at public events:

cold,

detached,

emotionally unreachable.

Sophia ignored it confidently.

Because in her mind…

Dylan simply needed the “right woman” to soften him.

And naturally… she believed that woman was herself.

The live orchestra softened into applause after Sophia finished a charity speech.

Then suddenly—

She smiled toward the crowd and lifted a champagne glass.

“I have one more announcement tonight.”

The ballroom quieted curiously.

Across the room, Vanessa Whitmore immediately narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

Because she knew Sophia well enough to recognize danger.

Sophia turned toward Dylan dramatically.

And before anyone could process what was happening—

she took his hand publicly.

The ballroom erupted into excited whispers instantly.

Sophia smiled beautifully toward the crowd.

“I think everyone already knows how much I adore Dylan Carter.”

Photographers exploded with flashes immediately.

Dylan slowly looked down at her hand on his.

Expressionless.

Sophia continued boldly:

“And honestly…”

She looked up at him with obsessive confidence.

“…I think it’s time he finally stopped pretending we aren’t perfect together.”

The ballroom practically stopped breathing.

Because everyone knew:

Sophia chased Dylan aggressively,

their families approved,

and the media already treated them like future royalty.

But nobody expected THIS.

Vanessa quietly tightened her grip around her champagne glass.

Meanwhile Dylan remained terrifyingly calm.

Sophia smiled wider.

Then publicly announced:

“I love you, Dylan.”

Gasps spread instantly through the ballroom.

Reporters practically vibrated with excitement.

And for one dangerous second…

Sophia truly believed she won.

Until Dylan slowly removed her hand from his arm.

The movement was calm.

Careful.

Cold.

The ballroom fell silent instantly.

Sophia’s smile weakened slightly.

“…Dylan?”

His gray eyes finally settled on her fully.

Emotionless.

Then quietly—

“You keep mistaking obsession for love.”

Silence.

Complete devastating silence.

Sophia’s face lost color instantly.

But Dylan continued.

Calmly. Publicly. Mercilessly.

“I have never encouraged this.”

Every camera flashed violently now.

People stared in shock.

Because Dylan Carter almost never humiliated people publicly.

Especially powerful heiresses.

Sophia laughed nervously.

“You’re joking.”

“I’m not.”

The simplicity of his answer destroyed the room.

Vanessa watched silently from across the ballroom.

And deep down…

Even she felt uncomfortable.

Because Dylan looked genuinely done.

Sophia’s eyes slowly filled with humiliation.

“You’re embarrassing me.”

Dylan’s expression never changed.

“You embarrassed yourself.”

The ballroom gasped softly.

Then finally— the final blow.

Dylan stepped slightly back from her.

And said the words elite society would repeat for months afterward:

“I would rather remain alone forever…” “…than belong to someone I do not love.”

Silence crushed the ballroom.

Sophia stared at him like he physically slapped her.

Then suddenly—

She burst into tears publicly.

The humiliation was catastrophic.

Reporters captured everything:

her crying,

Dylan walking away coldly,

the destruction of the Laurent-Carter fantasy.

The scandal spread globally overnight.

And within forty-eight hours…

The Laurent family quietly sent Sophia abroad to “recover from stress.”

But Ashford City never forgot.

Because that night proved something terrifying:

If Dylan Carter rejected Sophia Laurent…

then what kind of woman could possibly reach his heart?

Three days later…

Cate Sullivan died.

And suddenly the answer to that question disappeared in flames.

The night before the funeral…

Dylan Carter locked himself inside Cate’s apartment alone.

Nobody stopped him.

Nobody dared to.

Not after seeing the state he was already in.

The apartment still smelled like her:

vanilla candles,

coffee,

faint lavender lotion.

God.

That somehow hurt more than the funeral itself.

Because everything inside still looked alive.

Like Cate might walk through the door any second laughing about something ridiculous.

But she wouldn’t.

She couldn’t.

The explosion destroyed everything.

Dylan slowly walked through the apartment in silence while rain battered the windows outside.

The living room still held traces of their life together:

her blanket thrown carelessly across the couch,

medical journals stacked beside fashion magazines,

tiny sticky notes reminding him to eat properly.

His chest tightened painfully.

Then suddenly—

Hi