Chapter 3

After driving home, she ended her day.

I stared at the phone screen with a chill running through my body, watching the name "Vivienne" flash across it.

She had finally deigned to remove me from her blacklist.

"Fintan, where the hell are you? You've got three seconds to pick up!"

Her furious shouts filled the car, making me instinctively shrink away.

But then I remembered – I'm a ghost now, what do I have to fear?

Two years ago, when we got our marriage license, Vivienne's mom locked her up and went on a hunger strike in protest.

I climbed over the wall to see her. Her eyes were green with hunger, but she still hugged me and said, "Once Mom comes around, I want to wear a Vera Wang dress and have our wedding in Bali."

Now she really is going to wear Vera Wang, but the groom is someone else.

"Playing dead, huh?" Suddenly, there was a harsh scraping sound as she threw her phone onto the dashboard.

"Where was this courage when you got my mom killed back then?"

On the day of the funeral, Vivienne kicked me down to kneel before the headstone. Rainwater streamed down her chin.

"Fintan, the thing I regret most in this life is believing your bullshit."

After that, she started bringing different men home.

Sometimes it was a sharp-dressed professional, other times a tattooed thug.Every time, he makes me sit in the living room and listen. When my eyes turn red, he grabs my chin and says, "Hurting? You deserve it."

The phone keeps ringing.

Vivienne gets out of the car and kicks the door. "Fine, if you've got the guts, never answer! Once I'm married, I'll go to your company and throw paint everywhere. Let all your coworkers know you're the murderer who killed your mother-in-law—"

I curl up in the passenger seat, laughing out loud.

Vivienne will never know that this time, I really didn't ignore the call on purpose.

I'm floating on the ceiling, watching Vivienne go crazy.

This woman hasn't been home for two weeks, and the first thing she does when she comes back is kick the door.

The security door clangs loudly as she kicks it, her stilettos clicking on the marble tiles like a death knell.

"Fintan! Where the fuck are you hiding now?"

She kicks open each bedroom door, not even sparing the walk-in closet.

I watch her rip all the shirts out of the wardrobe and throw them on the floor, suddenly feeling a bit grateful that I'm a ghost now—

If she had gone crazy like this last week, she probably would've torn all my new limited-edition suits to shreds.

"Track his location!"

She screams into the phone, her eyes red at the corners. "Turn every hotel in the south and north of the city upside down!"

I squat on the chandelier and sigh.The sudden ring of a cell phone pierced the air. Vivienne stared at the screen with a cold smirk. "Miss, the last call sir made before he disappeared was to Miss Carlisle."

"Britta? Hah!"

A chill ran through my entire body.

The final call had indeed been to Britta, but it was only to ask her to make something for me.

I never imagined it would implicate that poor naive girl.

"9 Southside Gardens."

As Vivienne ran the third red light, flooring the gas pedal, she was grinding her back teeth so hard they were close to shattering. "He sure knows how to pick a hiding spot."

I floated in the passenger seat, watching her speed recklessly.

She always does this – biting her lip when she's angry, not even realizing when she draws blood.

In the past, I would reach out to pry her jaw open. Now I can only watch as she chews her bottom lip to a bloody pulp.

When Britta opened the door, dark circles hung under her eyes, and she was as thin as a sheet of paper.

My nose stung with emotion. This girl had pushed me into the crematorium with her own hands just three days ago.

"Why the dead fish face?" Vivienne shoved her aside roughly.

"Where's Fintan?"

"He's dead."

"Bullshit! Just last month he-"

"Last Wednesday, 8 PM, at Gold River Road intersection."