Chapter 1
I died in a car crash, and my soul hovered above my own funeral.
There he was, my husband, holding his sweetheart's hand, dropping to one knee before my cold tombstone.
He said, "Yvette, Charlotte is dead. We can finally be together. Marry me."
Gasps rippled through the crowd; my ghostly form shook with rage.
But my mother, strangely calm, stepped forward with a smile.
She said, "Congratulations. I can give my blessing to your marriage, but let's make one thing clear first.
"Your firstborn child will be registered under my daughter's name and will inherit every last bit of her estate."
Yvette's face turned even paler than my funeral portrait.
*****
Somber funeral music lingered in the air, and every guest was dressed in black, their faces weighed down by grief. My soul hovered above the scene, watching it all play out like some twisted, silent farce.
In the photo, I wore a gentle smile, but right now, all I wanted was to become a vengeful ghost and rip those two traitors to shreds.
My husband, Andrew Shaw, was gazing at Yvette Lane with such tenderness, like she were the only woman in the world. She was his true love, and once upon a time, she was my best friend.
The sadness in his eyes was barely there, swept away by the passion he felt for Yvette.
The guests' gossip buzzed around like flies. "Mr. Shaw is really sentimental. He looks totally worn out, and Ms. Grant's only just gone," someone sighed.
Another said, "Yeah, what a shame. They were so in love."
So in love? I let out a cold laugh.
Just then, Andrew made a move that stunned everyone into silence. He took Yvette by the hand and walked straight to my gravestone. And then he dropped to one knee.
He pulled a velvet box from his pocket and flipped it open, showing off a massive diamond ring. "Yvette, now that Charlotte's gone, we can finally be together. Will you marry me?"
His voice wasn't loud, but it cracked through the silence of the cemetery like a thunderbolt. Everyone was stunned. The guests who'd just been praising his devotion now had their jaws practically on the floor.
Yvette covered her mouth, playing the bashful act, but the smugness in her eyes was impossible to hide as she threw a glance at my funeral photo. That look was pure defiance and showing off.
My spirit was shaking with rage. I was so furious I felt like I could just explode and vanish on the spot. I hated myself for dying at such a ridiculously awful moment.
Just as Yvette was about to nod, an icy voice rang out, slicing through the silence.
"Wait a second." My mom parted the crowd and made her way over, calm and composed.
She was dressed in a sleek black ensemble, her makeup flawless, not a single tear in sight. She was calm, so calm it was almost scary.
Everyone expected her to put on a show and rip into Andrew and Yvette, right there in front of everyone. Even I expected her to do just that. But she didn't.
She walked right up to Andrew and Yvette, with a hint of a smile on her face. My mom said, "Andrew, Charlotte hasn't even been gone a day, and you're already this desperate?"
Andrew's expression froze, and he quickly got to his feet. He said, "It's not like that. Yvette and I truly love each other. If Charlotte's spirit knows, she would surely give us her blessing."
"Blessing?" My mom gave a laugh, but her eyes stayed cold. She said, "Fine, as her mother, I have to be reasonable, don't I?"
She stared at Yvette and said, "Congratulations, Ms. Lane. I can give my blessing to your marriage.
"But there are a few conditions. First, you have to mourn my daughter for three years. That means no parties, no wearing anything flashy or colorful, and you'll have to eat vegetarian and pray for her every day.
"Second, and most important, you'll have to agree to keep both family names alive."
Yvette and Andrew just froze.
"What?" Yvette blurted out, her voice shaking.
My mom explained, slow and deliberate, "Exactly. Your firstborn child will be registered under my daughter's name and will inherit every last bit of her estate. Do you understand?"
Yvette's face went ghostly pale, even whiter than my funeral photo.