Even After Her Death Novels & Stories

Perfectly. Fifteen years after death. Forever into life. Death acknowledged. Life celebrated. Past honored. Present embraced. Future built. Finally. Completely. Perfectly. Forever. Rachel's grave remains. Elara's life continues. Both real. Both true. Both beautiful. And that's everything. Absolutely everything. Perfect.

"She was dead. Everyone thought she was. Of course they're emotional. It's completely normal after ten years. They have a lot to catch up on." Sophia looked at me steadily. "You've been watching them since she walked in." "Everyone has been watching them," I said. "It's not every day someone comes back from the dead." "That's not what I mean and you know it." I finished the rest of my champagne. "I need another drink. Do you want anything?" "No." She was still standing there with that expression. "I'd just get back to what I was doing." But she lingered another moment like she had more she wanted to say.

He most enjoyed the feeling of controlling me, after all. "Elijah, did you know? Five years ago... I was pregnant with your baby," I said calmly. "You're lying again." I laughed bitterly and spoke in a gentle tone I hadn't used in ages. "I knew you'd say that, so I prepared everything. I hope that after I die, you'll receive those things and still be able to live happily ever after with Abigail." At that moment, the system's voice rang in my head. "Fran, midnight has arrived. You just need to die in this world, and you can go back."

He wandered aimlessly, full of anger, with nowhere to go. Until one day, when he called the housekeeper again, he finally learned the truth. Seraphine still went to the office and returned to the villa like clockwork. Every night, she asked the kitchen to prepare dinner for two and send it to the room, just like before. Sometimes she would go downstairs, take a bottle of red wine, and bring it upstairs along with two glasses. … One year later, on Hayden's death anniversary, Seraphine brought a bouquet of baby's breath to visit him. She had finally accepted that he was truly gone.

“Bishop. Before they moved him.” Her head turned slowly, eyes narrowing just enough to cut through me. “And?” “And he looked like hell. But he didn’t look… finished.” She didn’t respond immediately, and the silence that followed was heavy enough to crush the air out of my lungs. When she finally spoke, it was low. “Some people don’t die when they’re supposed to. They just hang around, making sure the rot they planted grows long after they’re gone.” I wanted to ask her what she meant, but her eyes were somewhere else entirely somewhere far away, in a place I’d never been invited to.

she whispered with love. The sound of her voice broke me. I touched her face, my fingers shaking. Her skin was warm. She smiled, her eyes shining. She was alive. How? I had seen her die. Coco’s dagger had ended her life. But now she stood here, untouched. Was I dead too?

"The funeral is tomorrow. Keep your daughter close. Cressida will be watching." She left through the gap in the hedge, and I sat alone on the stone bench, the word echoing in my head long after she was gone. Poison.

Her eyelashes trembled. Then her eyes opened. At first it was a little slit and she wasn't really focusing. She stared up at me. I was just a shadow to her. Her instincts kicked in away. Even when dying she reached for the silver blade strapped to her thigh. Her arm shivered uselessly. Blood bubbled at her lips when she tried to talk. “Do... It.” The words came out as a cough. She was still hunting me. Something bitter and somehow admiring moved through me.

“We’re family. Whatever it is, we should discuss it together!” After my father died, the four of us fought viciously over the inheritance. Catherine tried to drive me out of the house. Blair targeted me at every turn. Chloe schemed behind my back for even the smallest scraps of property. Yet, none of them had truly wanted me dead. On the contrary, the one I had loved did. That slow, terrifying sensation of life draining away had filled me with despair so deep that even the three women who despised me couldn’t bear to look at my corpse. Now, we had a common enemy, and for once, we were standing on the same side.

he said. “They were,” I said. “Even after he died she talked about them as a unit. I used to find it not painful, but complicated. The way she included him in present tense conversations, as if he were still there.” I paused. “Now I think it was just accurate. He was still there. Just differently.”