Chapter 1: The Best News She'd Ever Received

Across the top of Sharon Shaw's browser stretched a battlefield of open tabs.

There were so many that none of them displayed full titles anymore—only tiny search engine icons followed by a single word:

"Cur..." "Hex..." "Reve..." "How..." "Does..." "Real..."

She leaned so close to the monitor that the glow painted her face pale blue as she opened yet another article she hadn't read before.

"The so-called effectiveness of curses is usually the result of coincidence or psychological suggestion. Instead of waiting for imaginary revenge, it's healthier to focus on becoming a stronger person and living your best life..."

Sharon didn't even finish reading.

Click.

The tab disappeared.

"Useless."

She opened another forum instead.

For the past four months, she had become an unwilling expert on every corner of the internet remotely related to curses, revenge rituals, karma, bad luck, and supernatural payback.

She had browsed countless forums, anonymous confession boards, and occult communities until she could almost predict every post before reading it.

Some were obviously written by lunatics.

Some sounded convincing—until they suggested sacrificing blood or shortening one's own lifespan.

Absolutely not.

She wanted Ethan Pierce miserable.

Not herself dead.

Others were even stranger. One legendary forum thread, created over a decade ago and labeled "A True Story," had long since evolved into an ongoing serialized novel. Readers still argued in the comments about whether the events were real.

Sharon had read every page.

Twice.

Beside her keyboard lay a small brown leather notebook.

Its pages were filled with neatly organized curse methods she'd collected over the months.

Burning photographs.

Writing someone's name backward.

Placing a black candle beside their picture.

Freezing their name in ice.

Dropping salt over the left shoulder while repeating their full name three times...

Did any of it work?

Probably not.

But writing everything down somehow made her feel better.

It was therapy disguised as witchcraft.

The sudden ring of her phone shattered the silence.

Sharon blinked hard.

She'd spent the entire afternoon staring at the computer, and her eyes felt dry enough to crack.

Without looking away from her notebook, she rubbed one eye with her left hand while fishing her phone off the desk with the other.

The caller ID made her pause.

Chloe Quinn.

A smile flickered across her face.

The two had met while studying overseas years ago and had remained inseparable ever since. Even after returning to the same city in China, they still met regularly for shopping trips, brunches, and weekend vacations.

Sharon answered immediately and switched to speakerphone.

"Hey."

No response.

She frowned.

Still staring at her notebook, she casually flipped to the newest page, rereading today's ridiculous curse ritual.

Silence.

Was the call cutting out?

She checked the volume.

Maximum.

"Chloe?"

Finally, a voice emerged.

Soft.

Shaking.

As if every word had to fight through unbearable grief.

"Sharon..."

Another long pause.

"We just received the news..."

"...Ethan is dead."

Everything stopped.

Her fingers went numb.

The leather notebook slipped from her hand and crashed onto the hardwood floor with a loud smack.

A chill crawled up from the soles of her feet, climbing her spine until it reached the back of her neck.

Her mind went completely blank.

Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, the summer sunset painted the sky in brilliant shades of crimson and gold.

The warm light poured across the room...

Yet Sharon felt colder than she'd ever been.

A crow screeched overhead.

Its dark wings swept past her window before it landed on a nearby tree.

The clouds burned blood-red beneath the setting sun.

"Sharon?"

"Sharon!"

"Can you hear me?"

Chloe's anxious voice finally dragged her back to reality.

Sharon swallowed.

Her eyes remained fixed on the scarlet sky outside.

Her first thought was:

...No way.

Her second was:

Why am I freezing?

Almost mechanically, she stumbled toward the balcony.

She shoved open the sliding glass door, escaping the air-conditioned bedroom, and stepped into the heavy wave of summer heat.

Only after sinking into a wicker chair beneath the blazing sun did feeling slowly begin returning to her body.

She curled both legs beneath herself and hugged her knees tightly.

"I'm... fine."

Her voice sounded strangely distant.

Then she forced herself to ask the only question that mattered.

"Are you sure?"

"...He's really dead?"

"What happened?"

Chloe inhaled slowly before answering.

"It was a car accident."

"The day before yesterday he visited one of the company's factories outside the city. When they were driving through Yun Mountain Bridge, the vehicle suddenly lost control."

"It smashed through the guardrail..."

"...and fell into the lake."

Sharon listened without interrupting.

"The car was recovered that same night."

"The driver's body was found first."

"Ethan's wasn't recovered until this morning."

Another pause.

"His parents have already identified him."

"The DNA report confirmed everything."

"It's really him."

The summer breeze suddenly felt unbearably hot.

Sharon stared blankly into the distance.

Four months.

She had spent four entire months wishing for exactly this outcome.

Every morning.

Every night.

Every ridiculous curse she'd copied into that notebook...

Every stick of incense she'd burned.

Every petty insult she'd whispered toward his photograph.

She had imagined countless scenarios.

None of them had ever felt real.

Until now.

Chloe spoke again, her voice gentler than before.

"His parents want him laid to rest as soon as possible."

"The funeral is tomorrow."

Another silence.

"...Will you come?"

Of course Chloe was worried.

Everyone knew Sharon had been the one to pursue Ethan years ago.

Everyone believed she had loved him desperately.

Everyone assumed the breakup had shattered her heart.

No one knew the truth.

No one knew that the only thing Sharon had felt after the relationship ended...

...was hatred.

She closed her eyes.

"I'll be there."

She ended the call before Chloe could continue.

A message arrived almost immediately.

Chloe: If you're hurting, please don't keep it all bottled up. I'm here, okay?

Sharon smiled faintly.

She typed back a reassuring reply, tossed the phone onto the glass coffee table beside her, and leaned back into the chair.

Around her, cicadas screamed from every direction.

The residential complex was famous for its lush landscaping.

Towering trees surrounded every building.

Ordinarily, she loved the peaceful atmosphere.

Today, the endless chorus of insects only made her thoughts louder.

She replayed every sentence Chloe had spoken.

Car accident.

Bridge.

Lake.

DNA confirmed.

Funeral tomorrow.

Then, almost absentmindedly, she glanced through the open balcony doors—

—and her eyes landed on the memorial altar inside her bedroom.

Three months ago, she'd built it herself.

A framed black-and-white photograph of Ethan.

An incense burner.

Fresh offerings.

Every single day since then, she had faithfully lit incense before the photo.

Not to pray for his happiness.

Not to wish him peace.

But to curse him.

Every.

Single.

Day.

For a long moment she simply stared.

Then something inside her chest cracked open.

The crushing anxiety she'd felt moments ago slowly gave way to another emotion.

It started as a tiny spark.

Then spread.

Warm.

Sweet.

Victorious.

A smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

Sharon wasn't the kind of person who danced on someone's grave.

At least...

She hadn't been.

Now?

She honestly couldn't promise she wouldn't.

When the warmth finally returned to her body, Sharon stepped back inside.

Cool air brushed against her sun-heated skin.

She walked straight toward the memorial altar in the corner of her bedroom.

The black-and-white portrait of Ethan Pierce stared back at her with the same cold, handsome face she remembered all too well.

Without a word, she lit three sticks of incense and placed them carefully into the burner.

Smoke curled lazily into the air.

No one knew she hated Ethan.

Absolutely no one.

To everyone around them, they had been the perfect couple.

Even after the breakup, people whispered that they were destined to reunite someday—that neither of them had ever truly moved on.

The truth couldn't have been further from reality.

Sharon hadn't fallen for Ethan because of some grand romance.

Back then, she'd been sent overseas by her family for college.

It was her first time living abroad, and she hated nearly every second of it.

The language.

The loneliness.

The endless assignments.

Worst of all were the occasional racist encounters that reminded her she didn't belong.

Whenever life became unbearable, she had only one solution.

Find a handsome distraction.

Nationality didn't matter.

As long as he caught her eye.

Then...

She met Ethan.

It had been raining that afternoon.

A relentless downpour soaked the university campus.

Sharon had forgotten her umbrella and refused to imitate the locals, who casually pulled up their hoodies and walked straight into the rain as if getting drenched were perfectly normal.

Instead, she stood beneath the library entrance, quietly watching sheets of rain blur the world outside.

That was when she saw him.

Unlike the flashy heirs she was accustomed to meeting back home, Ethan looked almost painfully ordinary.

Dark jeans.

A plain white T-shirt.

A faded gray zip-up hoodie.

If someone had told her he was working two part-time jobs just to pay tuition, she would have believed it.

He emerged slowly from the curtain of rain.

First came his tall silhouette.

Then his steady stride.

Finally, as he raised the edge of his umbrella, she saw his face.

Her heartbeat skipped.

There was nothing soft or boyish about his features.

His beauty wasn't delicate.

It was commanding.

His sharp brows and slightly upturned eyes carried an intimidating intensity, made even fiercer by his habitual frown.

He looked like someone who never smiled.

Someone impossible to approach.

Sharon liked him instantly.

What an arrogant face, she thought.

I want him.

Meanwhile, Ethan noticed her too.

The misty rain made the girl standing beneath the library roof seem almost unreal.

Her long black hair clung slightly to her pale arms.

Her amber-brown eyes were impossibly clear, like sunlight reflected across still water.

For one strange moment, she looked less like a student...

...and more like a ghost who might disappear the instant the rain stopped.

They stared at each other.

Neither looked away.

Finally Ethan climbed the library steps, closed his umbrella, and glanced toward her.

"You need one?"

Sharon blinked.

She'd already spotted the familiar Chinese label tied around his umbrella handle.

She'd been planning the perfect opening line.

Instead...

He spoke first.

"Thank you."

She accepted the umbrella, intentionally allowing her fingertips to brush against his as she took it.

The contact lasted only a heartbeat.

"I'm Sharon."

She smiled brightly.

"And you are?"

He released the umbrella only after she had a firm grip on it.

"Ethan."

His expression remained as cold as ever.

"It's nice meeting someone from home," Sharon continued warmly.

"The rain doesn't look like it'll stop anytime soon."

"Aren't you going to need your umbrella?"

"I'll be fine."

"So how do I return it?"

She tilted her head innocently.

"You'll have to give me some way to contact you."

Ethan considered the question for a moment.

"Tomorrow."

"Three o'clock."

"Central Garden on Frank Street."

"You'll find me there."

Sharon's smile widened.

"Thank you, Ethan."

"You're handsome and kind."

"I'll see you tomorrow."

She walked away beneath his umbrella before he had the chance to reply.

The next afternoon she arrived nearly half an hour early.

She sat on a park bench pretending to read.

The moment Ethan appeared at the far end of the tree-lined avenue, she spotted him immediately.

He was still dressed simply.

Still expressionless.

But this time...

He wasn't alone.

Five enormous dogs trotted happily around him, their leashes gathered securely in one hand.

A dog walker?

So that was his part-time job.

Interesting.

Sharon closed her book and approached.

The dogs wagged their tails enthusiastically.

She instinctively stepped backward.

"I promise they're friendly," Ethan said calmly, tightening the leashes anyway.

Then he extended one hand.

Palm upward.

"My umbrella."

Sharon pretended to search through her shoulder bag.

She searched.

And searched.

Finally she looked up with an apologetic smile.

"I'm so sorry."

"I think I left it at home."

A lie.

Of course it was a lie.

If she returned the umbrella today, she'd lose her excuse to see him again.

Ethan withdrew his hand.

"Forget it."

"I don't need it anymore."

"That won't do."

She shook her head seriously.

"It belongs to you."

"Let's meet another day."

He studied her for several seconds.

Those sharp eyes alone were enough to intimidate most people.

Oddly...

The colder he looked...

The more determined Sharon became.

After another long silence, Ethan said flatly,

"Leave it at the library front desk."

"I'll pick it up."

Then he walked away with the dogs.

Sharon watched him disappear beneath the rows of trees.

The cheerful smile slowly faded from her face.

He's difficult.

Very difficult.

But not impossible.

Over the next month, Sharon quietly learned his routine.

She never chased after him.

Never deliberately interrupted him.

Instead, she arranged "accidental" meetings in public places.

Sometimes she'd walk past him without even saying hello.

Sometimes she'd pretend not to notice him at all.

If he looked her way...

She looked somewhere else.

She gave herself exactly one month.

If she couldn't make him interested before then, she'd move on.

After all...

He had only ever been a distraction.

Nothing more.

Ironically, while she ignored Ethan, other men kept approaching her.

They flirted.

Asked for her number.

Offered coffee.

Without realizing it, those interruptions slowly changed the rhythm between Sharon and Ethan.

Then...

On the very last day of her self-imposed deadline...

Everything changed.

As evening settled over Frank Street Park, Sharon packed away her laptop and prepared to leave.

She turned around—

—and froze.

Ethan was standing only a few yards away.

Straight-backed beneath the fading blue sky, he looked like a pine tree rooted firmly in the earth.

She pretended not to see him and walked past.

Footsteps followed behind her.

"My umbrella."

His voice was as calm as ever.

"When are you giving it back?"

Sharon stopped.

"You said you didn't want it anymore."

"And you insisted on returning it."

She couldn't argue with that.

"I left it at my apartment."

"Then let's go get it."

Half an hour later, they stood downstairs outside her building.

"You can wait here," Sharon offered.

"I'll bring it down."

"I'll wait."

She hurried upstairs.

A few minutes later...

She returned.

Looking genuinely embarrassed.

"The elevator's broken."

She sighed dramatically.

"I really don't want to climb five flights of stairs twice."

"...Would you mind coming up instead?"

This time she wasn't lying.

The elevator truly was under maintenance.

By the time Sharon reached the fifth floor, she was breathing hard.

Beside her, Ethan looked as though he'd merely taken a casual stroll.

Inside the apartment, she handed him a bottle of orange juice.

"I'll find your umbrella."

He accepted it silently.

Minutes passed.

Then ten.

Then fifteen.

Cabinets opened.

Closets were emptied.

Boxes overturned.

Nothing.

At last Sharon emerged, flushed from searching.

"I'm sorry..."

"I really can't find it."

She laughed awkwardly.

"If you don't mind leaving me your number, I'll—"

She stopped mid-sentence.

Ethan had risen from the sofa.

Towering over her, he stepped forward until she instinctively held her breath.

Without saying a word...

He gently lifted her chin.

Then lowered his head.

And kissed her.

The first thing Sharon tasted—

was orange.

The orange juice he'd just been drinking.

Chapter 2: Dressing for an Ex's Funeral

Sharon Shaw opened her eyes at six o'clock sharp.

Her alarm wasn't due to ring for another thirty minutes.

Soft dawn light filtered through the sheer curtains, washing the bedroom in a muted blue glow. She sat quietly on the edge of the bed, her pulse racing with a strange mixture of excitement and exhaustion.

She had barely slept.

Her head throbbed, and a dull dizziness reminded her that staying home would probably be the wiser choice.

Unfortunately, today wasn't a day she intended to miss.

Today was Ethan Pierce's funeral.

A smile she couldn't explain to anyone curled at the corners of her lips.

The funeral had become the most important event on her calendar.

The previous evening, she'd spent nearly the entire night choosing what to wear.

Bohemian.

Elegant socialite.

Y2K.

Old-money chic.

Every outfit had been carefully considered, rejected, then reconsidered again.

She hadn't finished until five in the morning before finally deciding on the perfect ensemble and collapsing into bed for a short nap.

Even then, sleep hadn't brought peace.

Instead, she'd dreamed about Ethan.

In the dream, they were back at the university where they first met. Rain poured endlessly from a gray sky, soaking her to the bone.

Then Ethan appeared beneath his umbrella.

The storm disappeared instantly.

Warm sunlight broke through the clouds.

A gentle breeze brushed her face.

Just as everything became beautiful, Ethan looked at her with those sharp, unreadable eyes.

"Why are you so happy that I'm dead?"

Even inside the dream, Sharon's resentment remained.

She slapped him across the face without hesitation.

"Because your death deserves fireworks!"

Dream-Ethan merely stared at her.

Unfortunately, dream-Ethan couldn't fight back.

Unfortunately for Sharon, neither could she hit very hard.

When she woke up, she still felt the slap hadn't been satisfying enough.

After showering, Sharon carefully applied her makeup and changed into the outfit she'd selected after an entire night of deliberation.

Before leaving, she stopped in front of the memorial altar she'd built months earlier.

Lighting three sticks of incense, she gazed at Ethan's photograph in silence.

Her countless hours spent researching curses online hadn't been wasted after all.

Today was proof.

Her steps felt unusually light as she headed downstairs.

Even the housekeeper noticed.

"You seem happier than you've been in months," the older woman remarked while serving breakfast. "Something good happen?"

Sharon smiled sweetly.

"The person I hated most won't be bothering me anymore."

The housekeeper, completely unaware of the circumstances, laughed warmly.

"Well then, congratulations."

"I'll take that."

The family driver was already waiting outside.

After breakfast, Sharon climbed into the back seat and immediately pulled out her phone.

She took several carefully posed selfies before selecting her favorite.

In the photo, a beam of sunlight happened to fall directly over her head like a heavenly spotlight.

Perfect.

After making a few minor edits, she uploaded it to her social media.

Attending my ex-boyfriend's funeral. ♡

Within two minutes, comments began pouring in.

Most assumed she was joking.

"LOL, manifesting this energy!"

"Can I borrow some of your luck?"

Sharon grinned from ear to ear.

She replied enthusiastically.

"Absolutely! Sharing the blessing with everyone!"

Good fortune was meant to be shared.

Especially this kind.

Traffic was surprisingly smooth.

The gentle hum of the car soon lulled Sharon back toward sleep.

Before long, her eyelids grew too heavy to resist.

She drifted off.

When the driver finally arrived at the funeral home, they were nearly half an hour early.

Through the window, Sharon spotted Chloe Quinn waiting by the roadside in a simple black dress.

She'd texted only moments earlier to say she'd arrived.

Not wanting to keep her waiting, Sharon asked the driver to hold up a mirror.

She inspected herself carefully.

Makeup flawless.

Hair immaculate.

Her complexion looked even healthier after the short nap.

The blush she'd chosen was perfect.

Satisfied, she thanked the driver and stepped out.

The moment she emerged from the car, Chloe froze.

Black tailored trousers flowed elegantly over Sharon's impossibly long legs.

A silk white blouse was tied with a black ribbon beneath the collar.

A cropped blazer emphasized her waist, while a gold-ring belt added understated luxury.

A long strand of South Sea pearls draped nearly to her waist.

Her softly curled hair bounced with every confident step.

Diamond chandelier earrings caught the morning sunlight.

She didn't look like someone attending a funeral.

She looked like a CEO walking into a multi-billion-dollar merger negotiation.

Chloe stared speechlessly.

When Sharon finally reached her, Chloe's eyes filled with tears again.

She misunderstood everything.

Sharon never dressed this way.

She assumed every detail had been chosen to honor Ethan one last time.

She even recognized the diamond earrings.

They had been Ethan's birthday gift to Sharon years ago.

Sharon, meanwhile, had completely forgotten who bought them.

She'd chosen them simply because they looked expensive.

Every element of today's outfit had hidden meaning—but none of the meanings Chloe imagined.

The silk fabric floated as she walked.

Since you're a ghost now, Sharon thought smugly, you should appreciate something that drifts as lightly as you do.

As for the pearl necklace?

That counted as prayer beads.

She was practically helping send him peacefully into the afterlife.

She considered herself incredibly thoughtful.

Passersby couldn't help giving her curious looks.

Even dressed entirely in black, Sharon radiated wealth and elegance.

Ignoring every stare, she noticed Chloe's swollen eyes first.

The tissue in her hand was already soaked through.

They embraced briefly.

"You look beautiful," Chloe whispered hoarsely.

"Ethan can finally rest in peace."

A faint smile tugged at Sharon's lips.

She simply patted Chloe's back without replying.

Rest in peace?

That depended entirely on whether heaven accepted him.

Or hell.

Chapter 3: The Dead Man's Request

Sharon was certain Ethan Pierce had died.

She had attended his funeral only hours ago.

She'd cried the loudest, stolen every eye in the chapel, and eventually collapsed from what everyone assumed was overwhelming grief.

She remembered every second of it.

So how—

How could Ethan now be sitting across from her, bathed in the amber glow of the setting sun?

The golden light split his face cleanly down the bridge of his nose. One eye shimmered like polished amber, while the other remained hidden in shadow, impossibly dark.

If someone told her he was a ghost, she'd believe it.

Cold sweat broke out across Sharon's back.

She suddenly regretted every dramatic line she'd shouted at the funeral.

"Take me with you."

What kind of idiot said things like that?

Apparently, one whose ex-boyfriend actually showed up afterward.

Seeing her frozen in silence, Ethan leaned forward.

Closer.

Closer.

Until only inches separated their noses.

Sharon instinctively sucked in a breath and held it.

A faint smirk tugged at his lips before a low chuckle escaped him.

The same infuriating laugh.

The one that always sounded as though he controlled every situation before anyone else even understood what was happening.

Her thoughts spiraled wildly.

Is this how ghosts kill people?

Does he drain my life force?

Am I about to die because I couldn't keep my mouth shut?

She desperately wanted to believe she was dreaming.

After all, she had no idea where she was.

Only now did she begin taking in her surroundings.

The room was spotless.

Fresh white walls.

Modern office furniture.

A large desk covered neatly with documents and office supplies.

The fading sunlight painted one half of the room warm gold while the other remained cool and gray.

With Ethan sitting precisely where light met darkness...

...it looked almost like the border between the living world and the underworld.

Silence filled every corner.

Too silent.

Too unreal.

Ethan leaned back into his chair.

"What?"

His voice was calm.

"Too scared to speak after seeing me?"

The sound snapped Sharon back to reality.

Lying helplessly on the sofa wasn't going to save her.

Whether he was human or ghost, she couldn't simply surrender.

She shot upright and scrambled into the farthest corner of the couch, pressing herself against the backrest as though she could disappear into it.

Over the past four months she'd spent countless hours reading paranormal forums.

One thing kept appearing in nearly every ghost story.

People who died suddenly often didn't realize they were dead.

Maybe...

Just maybe...

Ethan hadn't figured it out yet.

Swallowing nervously, she asked in a tiny voice,

"...Do you remember dying?"

Ethan idly rolled the bottle of eye drops between his fingers.

The amusement disappeared from his face.

"So I remember."

His eyes cooled.

"I was lying in the coffin."

"Then I heard you begging me to take you with me."

"So..."

He shrugged lazily.

"Here I am."

Sharon's fingers tightened around the blanket.

Her palms were icy with sweat.

She'd completely forgotten that Ethan had already been cremated.

The room was so quiet she could hear her own heartbeat pounding inside her ears.

This was difficult.

Very difficult.

She took a shaky breath and tried reasoning with him.

"Everyone has their own fate."

"I'm... really sorry for what happened to you."

"But you're dead now."

"You should move on and be reincarnated."

"We belong to different worlds."

"It's really... inappropriate for us to stay together."

One of Ethan's brows lifted.

"Oh?"

"I don't see what's inappropriate."

"I think it's perfectly fine."

"And honestly..."

"I don't want to be reincarnated."

"I'd rather stay with you."

Sharon nearly choked.

Trying to reason with a ghost had officially become the stupidest thing she'd ever attempted.

Annoyance flared inside her—

Only to vanish the instant she met his eyes.

She wasn't brave enough to argue with the dead.

Not this dead man.

"I don't want that..." she muttered under her breath.

Their relationship overseas had never been serious—at least not for her.

She'd been the one to suggest breaking up.

But Ethan had agreed immediately.

Without hesitation.

Without asking why.

Without even trying to stop her.

In that instant, every question she'd wanted to ask died inside her.

She'd wasted years dating a complete fraud.

Ethan glanced at his watch.

"You slept longer than I expected."

"There isn't much time."

His expression turned businesslike.

"I need your help."

Sharon almost laughed.

Help?

After faking his death—assuming this wasn't some supernatural nightmare—he still had the nerve to ask favors?

She wanted nothing more than to kick him.

Unfortunately...

She wasn't in a position to offend someone who might be a ghost.

Or worse—

Alive.

"What do you need?"

"Visit my family in the next couple of days."

"You don't have to do anything complicated."

"Just cry."

"The same way you did today."

"You seem rather talented at it."

Sharon's eyes widened.

"That wasn't acting!"

"I was genuinely heartbroken!"

Ethan smiled faintly.

"Of course you were."

She pointed at her swollen eyes.

"I cried so much last night my eyes are still puffy!"

She even rubbed beneath them dramatically.

As though fresh tears might appear on command.

"...Do you have any last wishes besides that?" she asked cautiously.

Before Ethan could answer—

The doorknob rattled violently.

"Huh?"

"Why won't this open?"

Chloe's worried voice came from outside.

"Sharon?"

"Are you in there?"

Ethan crossed the room in two strides.

Bracing both hands on either side of Sharon, he leaned down until his voice brushed her ear.

"Tell her..."

Knock. Knock. Knock.

"Sharon!"

Sharon forced herself to stay calm.

"I'm okay!"

"I just woke up."

"I feel a little dizzy."

"I think I'm just hungry."

"Could you bring me something to eat?"

"Oh my God."

"I'll be right back!"

Chloe hurried away.

Only after her footsteps disappeared did Ethan straighten.

The oppressive feeling eased slightly.

Then realization struck Sharon like lightning.

He wasn't dead.

He had never been dead.

Her blood ran cold.

That meant...

He had seen everything.

The social media post she'd intentionally left visible to him.

Her performance at his funeral.

Every fake tear.

Every outrageous declaration.

She wanted to smash her head against a wall.

"There isn't much time."

Ethan adjusted his cufflinks.

"Remember what I said?"

Sharon nodded rapidly.

"I remember."

"I won't forget."

He bent down once more.

One final warning.

"You won't tell anyone you saw me today..."

"...will you?"

She immediately raised four fingers in an exaggerated oath.

"Of course not."

"You have my word."

Satisfied, Ethan walked toward the black office desk.

From its surface he picked up what looked horrifyingly like...

A human face.

Hair.

Skin.

Features.

The lifeless silicone mask sagged grotesquely in his hands.

Sharon gasped and clamped both hands over her mouth.

Without the slightest hesitation, Ethan pulled the mask over his head.

Seconds later—

The breathtakingly handsome Ethan Pierce disappeared.

Standing before her instead was an utterly ordinary middle-aged businessman.

The disguise was flawless.

Sharon stared in disbelief.

"...What is this?"

"Mission: Impossible?"

"You think you're Tom Cruise now?"

Ethan only smiled.

Before leaving, he brushed the air beside one of her diamond earrings.

"You look beautiful today."

Then he opened the door...

...and disappeared.

The room stayed silent for several long seconds.

Finally Sharon exploded.

"Ugh!"

"How unlucky!"

"Who wants your compliment? Stop flattering yourself!"

The office door suddenly swung open.

She snapped her mouth shut.

Chloe rushed in carrying fruit.

"Oh, thank goodness."

"You scared me to death."

"I could only find these."

She handed Sharon a bright red apple before gently wiping the sweat from her forehead.

"You've been sweating so much."

"Low blood sugar?"

No.

Pure terror.

Sharon stared blankly at the apple.

"...This isn't..."

"Ethan's funeral offering?"

Chloe nodded innocently.

"Yes."

Sharon: "..."

She suddenly wasn't hungry anymore.