Chapter 1

Five years after my death, my doctor husband, Yosef Sherman, once again tried to force me to take the fall for his first love's medical malpractice.

He burst into my old apartment, clutching a forged consent form, only to find it empty, coated in dust.

Frantic, he grabbed the convenience store owner downstairs and demanded to know where I was.

The owner told him, "Nina Foster? She died five years ago.

"They say the family from that medical dispute couldn't accept the outcome. They charged into her rental with a knife and stabbed her over a dozen times."

Yosef refused to believe it. He was convinced the owner had taken my money to lie for him.

He arched a brow and sneered, "So I got her suspended for two years, and now she's throwing a tantrum?

"Tell her this—if she doesn't show up within three days, I'm cutting off her sister's cancer treatment."

With that, he stormed out, still cursing.

The owner watched him leave, shaking his head with a sigh. "What sister? The girl died long ago from lack of treatment."

*****

I floated above, watching Yosef's face contorted with anger.

Five years had gone by, and he hadn't changed one bit. He was still selfish, arrogant, always thinking the world owed him something.

He believed the world should revolve around him.

He thought I was nothing but his pawn, ready to jump whenever he snapped his fingers, dead or alive.

The convenience store door was shoved open hard, and the wind chimes rattled out a sharp, urgent noise.

"Mark, where's Nina?" Yosef's voice was thick with impatience.

Mark looked up from behind the counter, adjusted his reading glasses, and gave Yosef a slow, appraising look. "And you are?"

"I'm her husband. Yosef Sherman."

He stressed "husband" as if it were some kind of badge of honor, as if that title alone made him important.

Mark let out a flat "oh," his tone calm. "What do you want with her?"

"Where is she? Is she hiding? Get her out here." Yosef slammed the forged document onto the counter with a sharp bang. "There was a minor complication with the surgery Ella performed. Nina needs to come back and fix it."

He said it like it was nothing, just some trivial thing.

I watched with cold detachment.

Here we were again. Ella and another medical accident. Same story as seven years ago."

Ella, Yosef's so-called first love, the one he worshipped, had barely started at the hospital before she screwed up big time. It nearly cost someone their life.

Back then, Yosef came to me, eyes bloodshot, practically begging. "Nina, only you can help me.

"Ella just got back from abroad, and her career's barely begun. She can't afford any black marks.

"Please, cover for her this time. I swear, only this once."

For what he called "this once," I was suspended for two years and threw away my promising future.

And now here he was again. Same purpose, same entitled tone.

Mark ignored the document. He looked at Yosef with a steady gaze. "Don't you know?"

Yosef frowned. "Know what?"

"Nina died five years ago."

Yosef's face froze for a second.

Then he scoffed, letting out a cold laugh. "Dead? Come on, Mark, you and she must've cooked this up to mess with me, right? How much did she give you? I'll pay you double."

Mark shook his head, a hint of pity in his eyes. "No one's lying to you.

"Five years ago—not long after that medical accident.

"The patient's son never got over it; he had a breakdown.

"Late one night, he charged into Nina's rental with a knife."

Mark paused, his voice heavy. "He stabbed her more than a dozen times. She was gone before anyone could help.

"By the time the police arrived, blood pooled across the floor, and her body had gone cold."

Yosef's smile vanished completely.

He fixed his gaze on Mark, like an enraged beast. "Impossible. She can't be dead. She was always so careful with her life."

For a moment, panic flashed in his eyes, but anger quickly took over.

He was sure this was an elaborate scam I'd pulled to avoid him.

"Fine. Very good," he spat through clenched teeth. "Nina, you've really learned some tricks."

He whipped around, leaving Mark with nothing but a cold, unfeeling back.

At the doorway, he stopped and shot a venomous look over his shoulder. "Let her know—three days. If she doesn't show up, not a single penny goes to her sister's cancer treatment."

He thought this was my Achilles' heel, the chain I could never shake off.

But he had no clue. Only two months after I passed away, my sister, Nancy Foster, the one I desperately tried to save, had her medication cut off by the hospital because I couldn't pay for her treatment.

She spent her last breath lost in endless pain and despair, until there was nothing left of her.

Mark gazed after Yosef as he left, letting out a deep, weary sigh.

That sigh seemed to echo across five years, settling right onto my cold, lifeless soul.

Mark muttered, "Such cruelty. Her little sister joined her in death long ago."