Chapter 004

Laughter chased me up the stairs.

It floated after me from the dining room...thin, careless, distant—like the echo of a life I no longer belonged to.

"Evian!" my father’s voice thundered behind me, sharp with authority he no longer truly owned. "Come here this instant!"

I didn’t slow down.

I didn’t turn.

My steps on the marble floor were steady, measured, final. Each one carried me farther away from them.

The click of my bedroom lock was the most beautiful sound I had heard all night.

Silence followed.

Not the heavy, suffocating kind I had lived with for years, but real silence. The kind that wrapped around me gently, like a boundary no one else was allowed to cross.

I stood there for a moment, breathing it in.

I walked to my wardrobe, my fingers brushing past the dull, respectful fabrics I’d worn like a uniform since my mother’s funeral. Blacks, grays, high necks, long sleeves. A costume for a grieving ghost.

At the very back, wrapped in protective cloth, was a dress.

Emerald green, sleeveless, with a slash of silk that promised to drape and move like water. My mother had bought it for me, for a birthday that never came.

"For when you want to feel like the sun," she’d said.

Tonight, I didn’t want to feel like the sun. I wanted to feel like a blade.

I laid it on my bed, a splash of defiant color against the pale linen.

Next, I placed my highest, sharpest heels beside it...weapons for walking out of this tomb.

The shower came next.

I scrubbed my skin until it burned, washing away the sterile hospital smell, the memory of ice, the feeling of hands that had never cared about my consent. Steam filled the bathroom, blurring the mirror.

When I wiped it clear, I barely recognized the woman staring back.

She was pale. Thinner. Shadows clung beneath her eyes.

But there was something new there too.

Something unyielding.

Wrapped in a towel, I went to my jewelry drawer. Tucked beneath a pile of forgotten chains was a sleek, black credit card.

It was linked to the main family account. The unlimited one. Not my personal credit card my grandpa gifted me. This was the one my father and stepmother used to fund their new life, their parties, Kate’s endless "needs."

A slow, dark smirk curved my lips. It felt strange on my face. New

"Since you all know how to spend so freely with my mom's hard earned money," I whispered to my reflection, my voice a low, unfamiliar rasp. "Let’s see how you enjoy being penniless once I'm done with you all."

The quiet laugh that escaped me surprised even myself.

The dress slid over my skin like water. It fit differently now—I was leaner, harder. The green sharpened my features, turned my eyes fierce instead of tired.

I darkened my lashes. Defined my eyes.

I left my hair loose.

The final touch was the black card, tucked into the clutch my mother had gifted me years ago.

When I opened my bedroom door, I was no longer the ghost they ignored.

I was a disruption.

The effect was immediate.

As I descended the stairs, conversation died mid-breath. Glasses froze in the air. Smiles collapsed.

I felt their stares crawl over me—shock, anger and disbelief.

I didn’t look at them.

I headed straight for the front door.

"Where do you think you’re going dressed like that?" My half-brother, snapped as he stepped into my path. His face was flushed with outrage. "You look like a cheap escort. Are you trying to disgrace this family dressed like this?"

I stopped.

Slowly, I let my gaze travel over him—cool, assessing, detached.

"I shouldn’t say this," I replied calmly, "but I’m going out to enjoy myself." I smiled faintly. "Don’t worry. I’m not even your sister."

"Evian!"

Francis’s voice cut in, sharp with irritation that once would have reduced me to silence. He stepped forward, his eyes flicking over my dress...not admiration, but possession.

"How can you dress so exposed to go out? You just left the hospital."

I laughed softly.

"You can flirt with my sister," I said lightly. “Feed her. Promise to marry her. But I can’t step outside for air? Who are you to care about my health?" I tilted my head.

"I'm your fiance." He replied, reaching out to hold me but I took a step back.

"Are you serious?" I couldn't help but chuckled and that got him confused. Of course. This isn't the Evian he knows for two years now.

"You are not leaving this house," my father roared, desperate to reclaim authority already slipping through his fingers.

I turned to face him fully.

For the first time since the freezer, I met his eyes.

A cold smile touched my lips.

"Of course I can, Dad," I said, letting the word linger like poisoned. "Did you forget? Sixty percent of the company shares are still in my name. In still the boss here."

I gestured around the grand foyer.

"This is still my house."

I turned away. "Well...Goodnight."

Behind me, Kate’s voice rose, shrill and panicked. "Dad! You’re just going to let her leave like that?"

I didn’t look back.

He couldn’t stop me.

The truth wrapped around his throat like a chain, and he knew it.

The night air outside was cool, clean, freeing. I ordered a cab.

As it pulled up, fingers closed around my arm.

Francis.

"What are you doing? Can you stop acting like a kid? You're twenty one" he snapped, confusion and anger twisting his face.

I looked down at his hand.

Then up at him.

"I’m giving you space," I said sweetly. "So you can properly court my dying sister. Isn’t that what you wanted?"

"Evian." He started. "I told you already. It's a fake..."

I didn't let him finish. I pulled free.

"Enjoy your evening, fiancé."

I slid into the cab without another glance.

As the car pulled away, adrenaline hummed through me.

The driver glanced at me through the mirror. "Where to, miss?"

I smiled faintly, gripping the black clutch.

"Take me to the most expensive bar in the city," I said. "I need a drink."

And I needed to see just how much damage a ghost could do—with a single, limitless card.

***

The bar was all shadows and noise. It fit.

I ordered a drink I didn’t want, then another. I barely tasted either. The alcohol burned, useless against what was already ruined.

Memories surfaced anyway...my family’s old dinner table, warm and bright. Francis’s smile, once safety, once home.

Now it just felt like the first, sweet sip of poison.

Something cracked open in my chest. If the good girl had died in that freezer, what was left to protect? What was left to lose?

I waved a waiter over. My voice didn’t shake. "Send anyone," I said. "Anyone."

It wasn’t desire. It was demolition. I had come here to burn down the last remaining pillar of who I used to be.

A line of men formed in front of my table. Ten of them. I stood up, looking each one in the eye, searching for something to match the chaos inside me.

Men lined up at my table. I stood, looked at each face. Smiles too polished. Eyes too empty.

"I don’t like any," I said, exhaustion settling into my bones.

Pathetic. Even this felt false.

I turned to leave and stumbled straight into someone solid. Hands caught me before I fell.

"Easy."

The voice was low, a calm ripple in the noisy chaos. I looked up.

The world seemed to slow, the bar noise fading to a distant hum.

His face was all sharp, elegant lines and a quiet intensity. His eyes weren’t empty. They were watchful, deep, seeing right through the mess I was presenting.

In them, I didn’t see pity. I saw a silent understanding, a reflection of my own storm.

This was not a man sent by a waiter. This was a collision.

A wild, irreversible certainty shot through me. If I was going to ruin everything, let it be with a force that felt real. Let it be a choice, for once, that was entirely my own.

My decision was instantaneous, absolute.

"I choose you," I whispered.

Then I rose onto my toes, pulled his face down to mine, and kissed him.

It wasn’t gentle. It was a confession. It was the first brick of my old life, thrown through the glass of my old self.