Chapter 2

As I stood there, feeling utterly helpless, Harrison's brows knitted, and he pressed a hand to his chest—right where his heart was.

Since Harrison's transplant the previous year, he'd occasionally experience strange sensations. His doctors called it a mild rejection reaction.

But I knew it was my emotional turmoil affecting him. Because the heart now beating in his chest used to be mine.

"Enough." Harrison looked at Samuel, who was still on the floor, his face covered in blood. Maybe my emotions were affecting him, but Harrison finally eased up.

Harrison gestured for Samuel to get up, then pulled out three thick stacks of cash from his desk drawer and tossed them onto the floor in front of him.

Tears of gratitude welled up in Samuel's eyes. I couldn't help but feel relieved.

Even though Harrison hated me, he'd held onto at least a shred of our past connections. I watched Samuel leave with reluctant fondness.

But in the very next moment, I saw Harrison pick up his intercom, his face grim. "Call the cops. Someone broke in and tried to rob me."

How could I forget? Harrison was the kind of guy who never forgot a slight.

Back in college, a professor threw his weight around and snatched Harrison's thesis project for himself.

Harrison played it cool on the surface, but once the professor cashed in on the patent, Harrison dropped the hammer.

Harrison exposed him to plagiarism. Finally, the professor not only went to prison but was also sued for financial ruin.

Harrison never let anyone who wronged him off the hook. Just like now, he was at it again.

Harrison sat at the police station, listening to Samuel's desperate explanations. And he offered only one statement: "He stole the money."

So Samuel got locked up, staring down a criminal charge.

As Harrison left the station, I rushed in front of him, desperate to confront him. "You've got a problem with me—why drag my family into this?"

But I'd been useless in life, and I was even more useless as a ghost. I had no spiritual powers, couldn't haunt his dreams, and was still trapped by Harrison's side.

The car felt suffocatingly tense. His assistant, Dyllan Baker, sat in the driver's seat, glancing over cautiously. "Mr. Morgan, where to now?"

Harrison thought for a moment before answering, "The hospital."

*****

I never expected Harrison to visit Monica. For a second, I felt a flicker of hope.

Maybe seeing Monica lying sick in her hospital bed would make Harrison believe Samuel wasn't lying. No one knew I was dead. Nobody could find me.

When Monica saw Harrison, a faint trace of color returned to her pale face. She struggled to sit up and managed a weak smile in greeting.

The truth was, Monica had never approved of Harrison. His family was a mess, and he only made it through college thanks to scholarships.

Sure, I grew up in the slums of Maerine and relied on government aid, but at least I had a local residency permit—that was worth something.

As Monica always said, she had married for love and suffered for a lifetime because of it. She didn't want me to repeat her mistakes.

But I had set my heart on Harrison, poor as dirt and with a bad heart to boot, and fought with my family for him.

So, while I was alive, Monica never had a kind word for Harrison whenever she saw him. Now that I was dead, Monica suddenly became so warm toward Harrison.

Monica said, "I saw the news—you're part of the Morgan family now. I always thought Jennifer had good taste.

"When she comes home, you two just need to talk it out. Misunderstandings can always be fixed."

Floating in mid-air, listening to her words, my heart ached. Monica wasn't perfect, but she'd always treated Samuel and me equally.

After my father died young, Monica raised us alone. All she ever wanted was for me to avoid her hard life and be safe and secure.

So, seeing Monica try so hard to ingratiate herself with Harrison now—I knew it was all for my sake.

"Tell Jennifer if she wants to keep Samuel out of jail, she needs to come and beg me herself." He dragged a metal chair over and sat down by the bed, completely ignoring Monica's words.

Monica was stunned. It took her a moment to process his words, but soon her agitation grew.

"Jennifer went missing three years ago," she cried out, her voice trembling. "I swear, we're not lying. We've been looking for her this whole time."

The cops had already told Monica to declare me dead. But Monica refused to believe it.

And neither did Harrison. "Tell Jennifer—if she doesn't want her family dragged into this, she'd better show herself."

Harrison uncrossed his leg, stood up, and brushed nonexistent dust from his clothes. He looked down at Monica with cold disdain and said to Dyllan, "Cut off her treatments."

I lost it, jumping in front of Harrison with my arms outstretched, trying to block his way.

"You can't stop her meds!" I yelled. "Harrison, my mom's already running out of time—are you trying to push her to her death?"