Chapter 1

When my boyfriend, Misael Ellison, worked at a construction site, hauling bricks to support my education, I looked down on him for being poor and publicly tore up our marriage contract.

Later, he became a real estate tycoon, while I sank to working as a hostess at a KTV club.

In the first year, I begged him to buy a few bottles of alcohol to boost my sales. He made me kneel and finish three bottles of whiskey before he'd swipe his card.

In the second year, I coughed up blood as I pleaded for money for my chemotherapy. He held his new lover close and mocked me for my poor acting skills.

Eventually, I died in a lonely street, just as he had wished.

Then, five years later, he received a long-delayed insurance claim.

The beneficiary was listed as his name, with only a crooked, hastily written note.

"Misael, this is the money I earned with my life. Your unfinished buildings can finally resume construction.."

*****

Three days after I died, my soul drifted back to that damp, airless basement.

My body still lay on the narrow bed, already beginning to stink.

Beside it, my five-year-old son, Kamron, lay on his stomach, his small hands straining as he tried to push my rigid arm.

"Mommy, wake up. It's time to eat," he whispered.

In his hand was half a piece of moldy bread he'd dug out of the trash, the only thing he'd had to eat in the past two days.

I hovered above him, desperate to stroke his head, but my hand passed straight through his brittle, straw-colored hair.

Kamron was starving. He shoved his fingers into his mouth, sucking on them frantically until his gums split and blood seeped out.

Then something seemed to occur to him. He turned and crawled under the bed, tugging out a rusty old cookie tin.

Inside was my old keypad phone, the screen cracked and barely holding together.

There was only one contact saved. "Misael."

That was Misael, now a real estate tycoon, and Kamron's biological father.

Kamron's tiny hands trembled as he pressed the green call button.

The ringing dragged on endlessly, each tone hammering at my heart.

"Kamron, don't call! Hang up! Hang up now!" I screamed.

Misael loathed me. Calling him would only bring more humiliation.

But Kamron couldn't hear me.

The call connected.

Misael's voice came through the phone, lazy and slurred, with loud noise in the background.

"Vanessa?" he said mockingly. "Changed your mind? Ready to crawl back and beg on your knees?"

His voice was cold and sharp, like shards of ice slicing through my soul.

Kamron flinched. He curled in on himself, clutching the phone to his chest.

His voice was faint and shaky, like a newborn kitten's. "Sir... Mommy's been sleeping for a long time. Mommy's very cold. I'm hungry."

There was a brief pause.

Then a low, dismissive chuckle.

"Vanessa, you're getting more shameless by the day," Misael sneered.

His voice dripped with disgust. "Now you're dragging some random kid into your scam? Is there anything you wouldn't do for money?"

I screamed, "Misael, shut up! That's your son! I'm dead—I'm really dead!"

But he couldn't hear me.

To him, I was just hiding somewhere, waiting for pity money to be wired over.

A woman's playful laugh sounded from the other end. "Misael, who's calling? What a mood killer."

"Just some con artist destined to rot in jail," Misael replied casually.

Then he added coldly into the phone, "Tell Vanessa if she wants money, there's a way."

"Come to the Prestige Club tonight. Lick the booze off the floor. Maybe I'll feel generous and toss her something."

The line went dead.

The busy tone cut through my soul like a blade.

Kamron didn't understand humiliation. He didn't know what it meant to be insulted or called a bastard.

He only heard two words. "A meal."

The emptiness in his eyes ignited into a desperate, reckless hope.

Clutching the phone, Kamron bowed hard to the empty air, knocking his forehead against the concrete again and again.

"Thank you. Thank you for giving me food," he cried.

Each impact made a dull thud. A red welt quickly rose on his forehead.

I watched, my soul shaking in agony.

I wanted to stop him, to pull him into my arms, but I could do nothing.

All I could do was watch as he stuffed the moldy bread into his pocket, then gathered a handful of worthless stones from under the bed and shoved them into a woven sack.

"Mommy, I'm going to trade these for food," he said softly. "You wait for Kamron to come back, okay?"

He tucked the blanket around my body, then dragged the sack—nearly bigger than he was, stumbling out the door.

I wished I could become a vengeful ghost, haunt Misael, and choke the life out of him myself.

He'd better pray I never came back to life because if I did, I would drag him straight to hell with me.

Kamron walked ten full kilometers, hauling that filthy sack behind him.