Chapter 1

The rain was coming down in buckets the day I died.

Liam Goodman kicked me out of his car mid-drive, just to take a call from Margaret Smith, his "true love."

As a truck barreled toward me, I saw Liam's taillights fading into the storm, before darkness swallowed me.

My soul floated above, watching in numb disbelief as he cleaned up the scene and deleted the call records with chilling composure.

At my funeral, he played the heartbroken fiancé to perfection, only to sneak peeks at Margaret's texts during the quiet moments between prayers.

A month later, he held Margaret's hand with pure joy, announcing their engagement.

*****

Rain smacked the windshield, like someone spilled a bucket of marbles.

The wipers struggled frantically, but couldn't make a dent in the crazy downpour.

I sat in the passenger seat, twisting my seatbelt around my finger. The rain turned the world outside into a blurry watercolor, but I couldn't stop staring.

"Liam, are you sure about this?" My voice sounded tight in the closed space. "If you pull out now, the company will immediately plunge into a liquidity crisis."

Liam's face looked chiseled from ice in the dashboard's blue glow.

His slender fingers drummed an impatient rhythm on the steering wheel.

"Chloe, I told you, it's risk management," he said, his voice eerily calm. "Market's tanked. We need to cut losses before it's too late."

I turned to lock eyes with him. "But this is our life's work! Five years, since college—we built this from scratch. How can you just throw it away?"

A lightning bolt sliced through the night, briefly highlighting Liam's clenched jaw. Just then, his phone rang.

The caller ID simply read: [Margie].

Instantly, Liam's expression changed. He snatched up the call, his voice going all soft. "What's up?"

A woman's voice mumbled through the speaker—I couldn't make out words, but every second, Liam's frown got deeper.

"Alright, I'll be right there." He hung up, hit the turn signal, and jerked the wheel sharply onto another road.

"Liam? Where are we heading? We didn't finish talking—"

"Margaret's in trouble," he said curtly and stomped on the gas.

My heart clenched as if an invisible hand was squeezing it.

Margaret Smith was Liam's college sweetheart, the eternally pure and perfect first love he could never forget.

Ever since she came back half a year ago, she'd been the trigger for endless arguments between Liam and me.

"What's so urgent?" I struggled to keep my voice even. "It's pouring outside, and we were in the middle of a major talk."

Liam didn't even glance at me. "She's home alone with a 102-degree fever. Chloe, stop being unreasonable."

Unreasonable? My lips parted, but no sound escaped.

The company was on the brink of collapse, and he was rushing off to tend to his ex-girlfriend just because she had a damn fever?

The car screeched to a violent halt at a bus stop.

Liam finally turned to me, his gaze glacial. "Get out."

"What?" I thought I must have misheard.

"Get out," he repeated coldly. "It's close enough to your place. Hail a cab yourself."

He unlocked the car door, adding, "Margaret can't wait any longer."

The rain lashed against the car window, matching the frantic pounding of my heart.

I stared at Liam, the man I'd loved for seven years, utterly stunned. "Are you serious? There's a freaking storm out there!"

"So what?" Liam retorted. "You're a grown woman, Chloe."

I stared straight into his eyes, hunting for any flicker of regret, but met only glacial indifference.

At that moment, something clicked inside me, but I couldn't quite put it into words.

"Fine," I heard myself say, my fingers trembling as they fumbled with the seatbelt. "You'd do anything for Margaret, right?"

Liam didn't answer.

I pushed the car door open, and the storm slammed into me, soaking half my body in an instant.

Just as I stepped out, his icy voice cut through. "Take your umbrella."

He tossed my folding umbrella onto my lap, as if that was the last shred of mercy he could show me.

I stood in the downpour, watching his black Mercedes splash through the puddles and speed off. Its taillights blurred in the rain, then vanished completely.

Water streamed down my hair, mingling with my still-warm tears.

I unfolded the umbrella numbly, only to find myself at a pitch-black street corner.

My phone battery icon flashed red—5% left. I dialed Liam's number, my hands shaking.

"The number you have dialed is busy..."

I took a deep breath and turned toward the main road.

The rain was so heavy that my umbrella might as well have been tissue paper. My clothes clung to me, soaking wet and freezing me to the bone.

Just then, blinding highlights exploded from the corner.

Instinctively, I raised my hand to shield my eyes as the screech of skidding tires pierced the air.

Suddenly, time seemed to slow down. I watched in horror as the out-of-control truck careened toward me, the driver's panicked face clear through the windshield.

Then came the deafening crash of metal on flesh.

Weirdly, I felt no pain.

Instead, I felt weightless, like a feather caught in the wind.

I hovered above, staring down in bewilderment.

There lay a woman, her body contorted at an unnatural angle, crimson blood spreading through the rainwater.

That face...was mine.

Was I dead?

The thought hit me, but strangely, I wasn't panicking.

I watched calmly as the truck driver got out to check, his face deathly pale as he made a call. Then, he jumped back in and fled the scene.

The rain kept pouring, relentlessly washing away "my" blood from the pavement.

I floated above my body, feeling this weird sense of peace—at least, Liam would find out...

Just then, the familiar black Mercedes came sliding back.

Liam staggered out and dropped to his knees beside my body.

My chest tightened—he did come back for me.

But the next second, he pulled out his phone. Instead of calling 911, he dialed his lawyer, Henry Chester.

"Henry," Liam said, his voice eerily calm. "Chloe got hit by a car. Yeah, died on the spot. No, I don't know the vehicle. Surveillance? I don't believe there are any cameras in this area."

I hovered above, watching in horror as he methodically cleaned up the scene with practiced ease.

He even pried the phone from my dead hand and deleted our final call log.

The wail of sirens from police cars and ambulances grew louder as they drew near.

Liam instantly put on a mask of devastating grief, bursting into exaggerated sobs as he cradled my body.

Had I not seen the whole thing, I would never have believed anyone could fake grief so perfectly.

"Oh, Chloe!" he wailed, his voice all cracked. I floated right in front of him and stared into his eyes—they were bone-dry, not a single tear to be found.

Finally, the rain ceased.

Cold moonlight shone down on my body, and on Liam's trembling back as he kept up the act.

I hovered above this surreal scene. For the first time, I realized I might have never truly known Liam, the guy I spent seven years loving.