Chapter 4

Samuel suddenly burst out laughing, cutting me off.

I looked at him, confused and flustered, and saw the mockery and disdain in his eyes.

"Seriously, Catherine? I only kissed you, and now you want to marry me?" he said.

I froze. It hit me that we never actually signed any marriage papers. It was only a hollow contract and a pretend ceremony. He'd faked a certificate to get his parents off his back.

No wonder he thought I was being ridiculous, waving my paperwork around like that.

Before I could explain, he stood up and started smoothing out his shirt, which I'd wrinkled in my panic.

His eyes dropped to my burning ears, and he clicked his tongue, looking bored. "I was only messing with you. Maggie's back now. What makes you think I'd ever want someone like you?"

My fingers gripped the hem of my shirt, trembling with embarrassment. Even though I knew he wasn't really Heathcliff, hearing those words from someone with his face still hurt.

Samuel smirked, clearly amused by the whole scene. "This is funny."

Then he answered Maggie's call and left the bedroom.

I could hear him recounting the whole thing to her like some pathetic joke. He was laughing so hard that by the time I looked back, his hand holding the phone was shaking.

That was the moment it really clicked: he and Heathcliff were nothing alike. I never wanted to see Samuel again.

I grabbed my suitcase, threw some clothes in, and walked out. I'd always known this place was never my home.

My real home was that cramped little apartment I'd shared with Heathcliff three years ago. I'd kept the lease running this entire time and come by now and then, to stay close to his things.

People told me I was crazy to go back to a crime scene where he'd died. It might be haunted.

But the "ghost" everyone else was so afraid of was the man I missed every second of every day. I couldn't even manage to see him in my dreams.

That night, I grabbed my suitcase and headed straight back to that apartment.

The bloodstains were still there on the sofa, impossible to scrub out. But as I lay down, a wave of peace and warmth hit me.

I closed my eyes and could almost feel his weight beside me, hear the rain lashing against the glass while we watched some mindless show.

I could almost taste the fruit he'd feed me, hear that quiet, patient voice of his. "We've got your prenatal checkup tomorrow. Get some sleep, okay?"

This was our home. Our future was supposed to unfold here, with our baby in our arms. How could anyone call this place haunted?

I pulled myself onto the couch and finally gave in to a heavy, dreamless sleep.

*****

I spent a whole month in that apartment, waiting for a piece of news.

The three men who killed Heathcliff were caught, but the system had its loopholes.

Two of them got life sentences, but the third was only seventeen at the time. He only got three years, and he'd been out for over a month now.

I'd scraped together some money and hired a PI to track him down. I would kill him with my own hands before I went to be with Heathcliff.

But so far, there was still no clue.

Over the past month, Samuel kept calling me over and over.

I never picked up.

*****

Then, a month later, Samuel sent me a text: [It's Memorial Day. The Quinn family is having a memorial service at the family mausoleum. You're coming with me.]

He definitely wasn't inviting me because he cared. The Quinn family couldn't stand Maggie, so he needed me, his wife on paper, to play the part and cover for him.

But this time, I went. Because in the family mausoleum, Heathcliff Quinn's ashes and photo were kept.

The Quinn family never cared for Heathcliff, their youngest son. From the day he was born, they dumped him off with his grandmother in some small town.

But after he died, they suddenly decided to play the grieving relatives, pulling strings to grab his ashes.

I wanted to see him one last time. I needed to tell him I was coming to join him soon.