Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Three years after my death, my husband once again used my name to take the fall for a criminal charge on behalf of his beloved muse, causing an uproar across the internet.

Afterward, he brought a pre-written confession letter and pounded on the door of my old apartment.

"Sonya Blake, do you have any idea how important this venture capital project is to Felicity? Her record cannot have a single blemish on it!"

"Why are you so heartless? It is just some online backlash, and at worst, you will only spend a few more years behind bars. Is your petty freedom really more important than Felicity's entire future?"

His furious yelling quickly drew the attention of the elderly landlord downstairs.

Before Wyatt could even demand an answer, the landlord waved a hand dismissively at him.

"Stop banging on that door, son. The girl who lived there is long gone."

"Three years ago, right after she got out of prison, the victim's family came for revenge. They beat her to death right in the alley."

Wyatt froze for a split second, but he sneered almost immediately, convinced it was just another one of my cheap tricks.

He knitted his brows in pure disgust.

"I only had her do a little time, and now she is playing the martyr?"

"If she hadn't framed Felicity back then, I would never have had to come down so hard on her. She brought everything on herself!"

"Fine! You tell her this: she has three days to contact me, or her sick little sister will not receive another minute of medical treatment!"

With that, he shoved past the landlord and stormed down the stairs.

The landlord watched his retreating figure and let out a heavy sigh.

"What a tragedy… That poor sister of hers already died of heart failure years ago…"

Three years after my death, the internet was still ablaze with hatred toward me.

All because my husband, Wyatt Cross, had once again pinned a hit-and-run felony on my head to protect Felicity Stone.

"As Sonya's husband, my heart is completely shattered. I genuinely thought her previous time in prison would have reformed her," Wyatt said before the cameras, clutching a prepared script with raw emotion.

"I never imagined… she would commit another hit-and-run! Even as her husband, I can no longer defend her actions."

On the live stream, the chat rolled continuously with venomous comments:

"A leopard never changes its spots. Trash like her deserves to rot behind bars forever!"

"Exactly! I heard that during her first case, she even had the nerve to claim she was framed. How shameless can a person get?"

"Poor Mr. Cross. Such a wonderful man, saddled with a monster of a wife. Pure bad luck."

Looking at those words, my spectral heart felt as cold as ice.

Her husband? A wonderful man?

I could not help but let out a bitter, silent scoff.

If he had not used my dying sister's life to blackmail me six years ago and personally sent me to prison, maybe I would have believed his handsome, grieving face.

Wyatt had used onion juice and eye drops to fake his tears, passionately listing my supposed crimes to the public.

Once the viewer count peaked, he dabbed at his eyes and spoke firmly into the lens.

"Forgive me, everyone. I need a moment to compose myself. But I promise you all, I will personally hunt Sonya Blake down and bring her to justice."

"Please believe in me. Justice will be served!"

The screen went black as the broadcast ended.

In the next instant, the grief vanished from Wyatt's face completely, making him look like an entirely different person.

He tossed the script onto the table and turned sharply to his assistant.

"Did you find Sonya?"

The assistant lowered his head, his voice trembling.

"Mr. Cross… not yet. We checked every place she could possibly go, but nobody has seen her."

"Incompetent fools!" Wyatt snapped, springing up from his seat. "A living human being does not just vanish into thin air!"

"Keep looking! Call every single one of her acquaintances, and if that fails, pull her bank records!"

"Mr. Cross, Mrs. Cross cut ties with all her friends years ago. Her bank accounts haven't had a single transaction in three years…"

"What? Are you trying to tell me she really evaporated?"

Wyatt glared at the assistant, who immediately shrank back into silence.

"I will go find her myself! If I track her down before you do, you can all pack your bags and get fired!"

Staring at Wyatt's tense jawline, I was forced to drift behind him, a sharp pang hitting my hollow chest.

He truly went to any length for Felicity.

Fabricating evidence, manipulating public outrage, and ruthlessly pushing me into the abyss over and over again without batting an eye.

And what was I to him?

Less than a stray dog on the street.

Wyatt's luxury sedan soon pulled up outside the dilapidated apartment complex where I had lived before my death.

Covering his nose against the musty smell, he hurried up the stairs and banged violently on the rusted iron door.

"Sonya Blake, get out here! I know you are inside!"

"Do you think hiding will save you? Felicity's future cannot be ruined, so you are taking the blame for this whether you like it or not!"

Naturally, there was no answer from inside.

He kicked the metal door hard, producing a hollow, echoing thud.

"Stop playing dead! If you hadn't framed Felicity for corporate espionage back then, she wouldn't have almost gone to jail. Now that it is time to pay your debt, this is how you behave?"

Floating beside the door, I looked at his face, flushed red with rage, and found it sickeningly absurd.

Framed?

The one who stole the trade secrets was Felicity all along.

It was Wyatt who held my sister's life over my head, promising that Stella would only survive if I took the rap.

I had given in, spending three grueling years in prison for a woman who meant nothing to me.

Yet on the day I was released, I discovered my sister had already died while I was behind bars.

She died because her medication was cut off, because there was no money left.

Wyatt kept pounding on the door, the commotion finally bringing the landlord up the stairwell.

The gray-haired man shuffled up and paused when he saw Wyatt.

"Are you looking for Sonya Blake?"

Wyatt lifted his chin arrogantly.

"Yes. Is she hiding inside? Unlock the door. I have urgent business with her."

The landlord shook his head slowly. "Stop knocking, son. She has been gone for a long time."

Wyatt frowned. "Gone? What do you mean gone?"

"Dead," the landlord sighed. "Three years ago, just a few days after she got out of prison, she was ambushed in the alley by relatives of that old case's victim. They beat her to death. She was gone before the paramedics even arrived."

"Such a pity. She was a good kid."

Wyatt's expression froze for a moment as if assessing the truth of the words.

Then, he let out a scoffing laugh.

"Dead? What a joke! How could a cockroach like her die?"

"Did she pay you to say that? Tell her that this pathetic guilt trip won't work on me!"

The landlord looked at him like he was completely out of his mind.

Before the old man could say another word, Wyatt pulled out his phone.

"Fine. She refuses to come out, right? Tell her this: if she doesn't message me back within three days, her sister won't get another cent for medical care! Let's see how long she can hide!"

Having said his piece, he pushed past the landlord and stomped downstairs without looking back.

His heavy footsteps echoed down the stairwell, fading into the distance.

The landlord stood in place, watching his back, muttering softly under his breath.

"What a sin… Didn't her sister pass away even before she did…"

I hovered in the hallway, gazing at the door that no one would ever open again.

Sunlight streamed in from the dirty window at the end of the corridor, illuminating dancing specks of dust.

It was so quiet.

So quiet, it felt as if I had never truly existed in this world at all.