Ghost Marriage Novels & Stories

The Galantes were powerful, but Camilla’s mother had been something else entirely in that moment—just a woman refusing to let her daughter be found. I understood his walls now, understood why they existed at all, but understanding didn’t stop the dread crawling up my spine. A ghost is a closed ending. A ghost can be mourned, processed, laid to rest. But a living woman… gone, hidden, still existing somewhere in the world—that wasn’t grief. That was an interruption. A story that could restart at any second. She could walk into his clinic tomorrow, she could say his name like nothing had ended, and everything I had built beside him would collapse without even asking permission.

It was a lot to take in. I needed a long time to process it all. My ghostly roommate was actually a legendary former employee of my own company. I closed my laptop with mixed emotions. “So… did the accident trap you here?” After a long silence, Nathaniel’s voice echoed softly in my head. It was faint, almost hazy. “It wasn’t an accident.” My heart dropped. Before I could ask for details, the voice vanished. The next few days at the office were quiet.

Now, all he needs to do is back up this evidence with more photographs that show Sarah is indeed the manananggal. Acting swiftly, he groped for his phone in his side pocket and dialed the number of the Spirit-Hunters, a group of individuals from various walks of life who have devoted their lives in hunting down ghosts and mythical creatures. Through them he knows light will be shed on the mystery behind the death of his parents. This group is well-known all over the world for cracking the code on the most difficult cases. Hiring them can cost Mark a huge sum of money, but this does not bother him. He would exhaust all the resources that he has if only to catch the killer and get his vengeanc

Elowen screamed, then looked around wildly, her voice trembling as she muttered, "Ms. Ghost, if you’re still safe, respond to me…" She waited and waited, but the familiar cold presence never returned. Her heart felt as if it had plunged straight into an abyss. Her body went limp, sliding down until she collapsed onto the floor. Lucien saw her reaction and immediately knew that the ghost had truly disappeared. He burst into loud laughter, cold and hollow, like a wraith crawling up from hell. He leaned close to her ear and whispered, "See that? Your lover was sent to hell by your own hands. This is all because of you."

“What happened?” “Grams was murdered last year. Mom’s latest boyfriend sexually assaulted me during one of my episodes. She caught him before it went too far, but somehow, it was my fault. I think she was tired of me depending on her.” “Where’s the guy?” Ghost was grinding his teeth as he spoke. I shrugged my shoulders, not even wanting to speculate that they were still together. “Are you safe?” “Not really. The guys who killed my grandmother took a shot at me.”

] I turned off the phone, feeling my heart being crushed by an invisible hand. After my parents died in a car accident, I became an orphan with no blood relatives in this world. I was afraid of loneliness; I was terrified of the dark. On our wedding day, Marco swore on the Bible in front of the priest: "Elena, the Corleone family is your blood now. I will never let you feel alone." Later, when I had Luca, I thought I had finally taken root in this world. But now I understood. Even with sky-high power and wealth, if Marco decided to take it back, I would still be that orphan with nothing.

Before he could react, his phone rang urgently. "Hello?" A cold voice answered, "Mr. Hart, we received a report. We found a woman's corpse at one of your rental properties."

Then, I grabbed the ashtray nearby and smashed it hard against his head. “Who are you? My husband’s been dead for a week now. There’s no way you’re him!” The ashtray hit his skull. Blood immediately started trickling down his face. “Ouch! Eve, what are you doing? I’m Mark! Stop!” I pretended not to understand and kept swinging the ashtray at him. “You’re sick! My husband is dead, and here you are pretending to be him! Imposter!” To avoid killing him, I started hitting his body instead. Soon enough, he was covered in bruises.

An untraceable phantom known only as Ghost. Every target assigned to Ghost had ended up dead with a single, surgical puncture to the heart. No alarms tripped. No forensic evidence left behind. A true myth. Five years ago, the underworld partner I had been trading logistics networks with was murdered overnight, and rumors whispered that Ghost had been the weapon. Then, the assassin vanished completely from the grid, leaving the name to gather dust in the archives of the syndicate wars. I opened my eyes, my gaze shifting to the rear-view mirror.

"I understand. Good luck, mysterious man." I pushed open the door and stepped out into the cool evening air. In the distance, a train whistle blew as it headed out into the vast, empty desert. My satellite phone rang. It was my handler. "Ghost, got a new job. Eastern Europe. An arms dealer. S-class difficulty." "The price?" "Twenty million. US." I started the engine, feeling the deep rumble. "I'll take it." I ended the call and hit the gas. The truck shot forward into the twilight like an arrow.