Chapter 2

When Jameson heard Marcus's words, he didn't think much of it. "She's not with me right now. What about it?"

Marcus had been Jameson's close friend since they were kids. He and I had always gotten along well, too.

Marcus's family, the Whitmores, was one of the top families in Saint Carmine, but Marcus had no interest in inheriting the family fortune. All he wanted was to become a good police officer. After graduating from college, he joined the Vallencourt precinct in Saint Carmine without a hitch.

The news of me being left at the altar by Jameson had already spread like wildfire.

Of course Marcus had heard. Maybe he was worried I'd done something stupid, which was why he called Jameson to check if I was with him.

I wasn't. That was confirmed.

Marcus pressed his lips together. "The woman who called the police sounded just like Mia. She said she was being chased by some psycho killer. I tried calling her, but she's not picking up. Can you get ahold of her?"

I never would've expected that the first person to worry about my safety after my death would be Marcus.

He and I weren't even that close. We were just ordinary friends, yet he reached out right away.

I looked at Jameson. We'd been in love for years, and he didn't even come close.

'Jameson, you selfish bastard,' I seethed.

"I bet she did it on purpose," he said casually. "Trying to scare me with a police call. These days, even if someone sleeps out on the street for a night, no one cares. Who the hell would be running into some psycho killer in the middle of winter? It's probably just another tantrum she's throwing. If you take it seriously, you've already lost."

Marcus frowned. He'd been on the front lines for years and had seen more cases than most could imagine.

Sure, things were relatively safe these days, but that didn't mean danger didn't exist.

"Jameson, today's your wedding day. Leaving Mia behind like that was already out of line. If she's acting out a little, it's understandable. Just message her, apologize, and get her to come home."

He'd already gotten in touch with the officers who responded to the call. They said there was nothing unusual at the scene based on the phone's location.

No woman. No killer.

So maybe Mia was fine?

I appreciated Marcus's concern, I really did. But I couldn't stop the bitter laugh that came out of me.

I was already dead. What good was an apology now?

In the end, I'd overestimated how much I meant to Jameson.

As the eldest grandson of the Rhodes family—the most powerful family in Saint Carmine—Jameson been doted on since birth.

He had a temper. Every time we fought, I was always the one to cave first.

People used to say that I was aloof, kept to myself, and hard to get close to. But with Jameson, I made all the exceptions. I loved him deeply.

And that love? In the end, it became the blade that cut me down.

When he heard the word "apologize," Jameson's voice chilled. "I didn't do anything wrong. Why should I apologize? Marcus, whose friend are you exactly? The way you're defending her—what, do you like her or something?"

Marcus was quiet for a moment. Then he sighed. "I've been caught up in a case these past few days and couldn't make it to your wedding. I had my mom deliver a gift on my behalf."

Jameson remained silent.

Before hanging up, Marcus couldn't help but say, "Mia's not the tough type. It's late, and it's not safe for her to be out there alone. Get in touch with her."

"Got it," Jameson replied and tossed his phone aside, clearly not taking any of it to heart.

Marcus liked me?

I had no idea he did. Maybe it was just something Jameson said on a whim.

But Marcus's tone… it made me wonder.

Even if I was curious, I had no way of finding out. After all, no one could see me anymore.

Isabella asked, "My mom just texted. She said Mia left right after you did. She still hasn't come back. Probably pissed off. You should call her and give in a little."

Jameson stopped the car in front of my family's home. "Don't be like Marcus and try to talk me down. Mia's not the type to throw real tantrums. She barely even talks. Give it two hours, and she'll come crawling back on her own."

I laughed.

'Jameson, I'm already dead. And I'm never coming back.'

Isabella opened the car door and stepped out.

Jameson's eyes landed on the curve of her collarbone. His Adam's apple bobbed slightly, and then, out of nowhere, he reached out, pulled her close, and kissed her.

She didn't flinch. On the contrary, she wrapped her arms around his neck and deepened the kiss.

I sat there, watching the two of them with utter disgust, hating that I was just a soul now.

If I still had a body, I'd have taken a photo of their shameless embrace and exposed them to the world, let everyone spit in their faces.

I was the precious daughter raised by the Dawson family since childhood, protected like a little princess. But when I turned thirteen, my mom, Caitlyn Jennings, began to suspect I wasn't her biological daughter.

A DNA test confirmed it—I wasn't.

But more than that, it revealed that I was the child of my dad, Paul Dawson, and his mistress.

My mom was so furious that she wanted to kick me out of the house. And that's when Isabella appeared.

Isabella claimed she was both Paul and Caitlyn's real daughter, swapped at birth and raised by the mistress.

Paul and Caitlyn were skeptical at first. But after another test, it turned out Isabella really was their daughter.

My parents welcomed her with open arms.

And me? I became the despised daughter of a homewrecker. If it hadn't been for a fortune teller saying Isabella had a major disaster in her fate and needed someone born in my year to absorb it… I'd have been thrown out long ago.

I watched Isabella and Jameson in their disgusting embrace, my heart twisted with pain I couldn't even describe.

It wasn't just my family. Now, even the man I loved belonged to her.

And me? I was just some rotting thing in a dark corner—unnoticed, uncared for. Even in death, I couldn't find peace.

My whole body trembled. The fury in me had nowhere to go.

Why was the world so damn unfair?

What had I done wrong?

Why… did I deserve this?

Jameson reluctantly pulled away from Isabella. He licked his lips. "I'll wait until you get inside."

"Okay."

In front of others, Isabella always acted confident and sharp. But right now, she wore a bashful smile.

The two of them looked like a couple who'd just fallen in love.

Only after watching her walk in did Jameson finally turn the car around and drive back to the wedding house.

I sat in the passenger seat, watching him concentrate on the road, showing no intention of calling me.

It was clear—Jameson had nothing on his mind but Isabella. He'd already forgotten I even existed.

When the car pulled up in front of the house, Jameson tossed his keys to a servant and walked inside with one hand in his pocket.

As he stepped in, he asked his housekeeper Marie, "Has Madam come back?"

The word 'Madam' coming out of his mouth made me want to gag.

Marie looked up at the lit bedroom on the second floor. "Seems like she's back… but she doesn't seem too happy."

Back when the wedding was still ongoing, Jameson had ditched me to attend Isabella's competition.

I might be cold and reserved by nature, rarely losing my temper, but I'd still been angry enough to come back and smash the wedding portrait.

Marie hadn't seen me leave and assumed I was still in the house.

Jameson's lips curved in a careless smile as he strolled upstairs.

He knew I couldn't leave him. He assumed this was just another one of my petty tricks.

See? He had ignored me, and now, left to stew in my own regret, I must've come crawling back.

Standing outside the bedroom door, he took a moment to compose himself, ready to lash out and put me in my place.

He did this all the time. That way, he didn't have to apologize and could still get my forgiveness.

"Mia," he said, "aren't you tired of playing these little games with me?"