Chapter 4

Watching him delete all my contact information felt like experiencing death all over again.

A sharp pain shot through my chest. I turned to leave that suffocating room, but as I reached the door, an invisible force seemed to pull me back.

Like a lost spirit, I was bound by some unseen tether, forced to follow Nicholas everywhere.

What kind of supernatural rule was this? Was it my lingering hatred for him, or perhaps some unfinished business between us?

I didn't understand, and I couldn't break free—so I simply drifted over to the couch and sulked.

Nicholas was always on the phone. When discussing business, his tone was cold and efficient, so much so that it nearly lulled me to sleep.

Then he took another call, and his voice softened at once. "Yes, I'll come pick you up now."

I knew instantly it was Abigail on the other end.

I was all too familiar with that tone he used only with her.

Within minutes, Nicholas gathered his things and left the office.

That same invisible force tugged me along, pulling me out of the building and into his luxury car.

Outside the window, the bustling streets of Silverlight City flashed by. This city, which I had once approached with so much hope, now felt foreign and distant.

The car stopped in front of a film set, where Abigail stood waiting at the entrance.

She wore a beige trench coat today, her long hair spilling over her shoulders, eyes bright and lips red—utterly radiant.

When she saw Nicholas step out of the car, she immediately rushed into his arms.

They held hands, fingers intertwined. I noticed they were both wearing matching engagement rings.

I had to admit, they looked perfect together. They practically shone when side by side.

Not wanting to watch them any longer, I distracted myself by teasing passersby—blowing on necks one moment, tugging at hair the next.

None of them noticed, still chatting away about the news.

"Did you hear about that recent plane crash? So tragic—over a hundred people on board, no survivors."

I stopped and lingered quietly nearby, listening as others discussed my own death.

Nicholas seemed to have heard it too. His arm, which had been wrapped around Abigail, slowly dropped to his side, and he turned toward the speakers.

"When did it happen?" Nicholas asked, his voice low and controlled.

"Last night," one of them replied.

"Last night?" Nicholas repeated, as if confirming something unspoken.