He Destroyed Me, Then Begged My Ghost to Stay

After the wedding, Blake Gilbert brought me back to the bridal suite and tormented me through the entire night.

By the next morning, a photo of me kneeling at his feet had gone viral.

When I confronted him in hysterics, he offered no explanation. He simply had his people strip me naked and drag me to my mother's hospital bed.

He watched with a cold smile as my mother convulsed uncontrollably at the sight.

"If your mother hadn't been a shameless homewrecker who drove Agatha's mother insane and got both her parents killed, Agatha never would've ended up an orphan, living off other people's charity!"

"Agatha spent ten years suffering from depression because of what your mother did. Every ounce of pain she endured, every bit of misery she went through I'm going to make sure you and your mother feel all of it!"

Agatha Pruitt was his adoptive sister, not a single drop of shared blood between them.

So his undying devotion had never been real. It was revenge, meticulously planned from the start.

But what happened back then my mother was the victim.

My mother vomited blood and died from the shock. He didn't show a shred of remorse. He just smiled and gripped my chin.

"Your mother got off easy, dying that quick. What she owed Agatha? That debt falls to you now."

To treat Agatha's depression, he used me as a test subject for experimental drugs and forced me to serve as her personal blood bank.

Five years of marriage. Five years of a living hell.

Until Agatha slit her wrists again and lost too much blood. She needed emergency transfusions.

He had me strapped down at the hospital. They drained nearly every drop of blood from my body.

When he saw me writhing in agony, he leaned down and held me.

"Elaine, just hold on a little longer. This is the last time."

"Once Agatha's better, we'll start over. You and me."

But what he didn't know was that five years of experimental drugs had destroyed every cell in my body.

I could no longer produce new blood.

The debt he claimed I owed I would repay it with my life.

There would be no "starting over" for us. Not anymore.

I lay on the hospital bed, my body seizing, but my throat couldn't produce a single sound.

When no answer came, Blake stood up, irritation plain in his eyes.

He grabbed my wrist and wrenched me off the bed.

"Elaine Harding, how long are you going to keep up this act?"

"I've seen your medical report. Every single indicator came back normal. It's just a little blood draw. How much could it possibly hurt? Stop pretending to be fragile."

I collapsed face-down on the floor, too weak to even push myself up.

He'd seen my medical report but he didn't know that every cell in my body had been destroyed.

The doctors had told me all my organs were failing.

Forget drawing blood. A common cold could kill me now.

I tried to explain, but a metallic sweetness flooded my throat.

Every organ inside me trembled with pain.

I gathered the last scrap of strength I had and clutched the hem of his trousers, my eyes begging.

"My mother was innocent. What happened back then please, just look into it. Please."

I'd said those words countless times before.

Whenever the side effects of the drugs became unbearable, whenever I was rolling on the floor in agony, I would cry and beg him.

Every single time, he cut me off without mercy.

"Elaine Harding, if your mother was innocent, then what about Agatha's mother? Was she not innocent?"

"If your mother hadn't been shameless enough to drug Agatha's father and crawl into his bed, would Agatha's mother have gone mad enough to take him down with her?"

"Stop playing the victim. Agatha has been depressed for years, and it's all because of your family. Your mother is dead, so the debt is yours to pay."

He refused to believe a word I said. He just stared at me with that cold expression and forced me to keep taking the drugs.

Five years. Over a thousand different medications.

My body was covered in needle marks, so many they blurred together.

I'd served as a human blood bank more times than I could count.

After every session, I was so weak I couldn't leave the bed for half a month.

None of it mattered to him.

The only thing he cared about was whether Agatha Pruitt could be cured.

Even if the price was my life.

Perhaps the pain in my eyes was too obvious to miss.

A rare flicker of something like tenderness crossed Blake's face.

He leaned down and pulled me into his arms, his voice gentle.

"Elaine, just hold on a little longer. I promise, once Agatha recovers, I'll look into what really happened back then."

I looked up at him and smiled. A hollow, broken smile.

He didn't know yet. I couldn't wait that long.

The doctors had told me my bone marrow had nearly stopped producing blood. Once they drained what was left, I would die.

The moment I opened my mouth, a spray of blood foam came pouring out.

Panic flooded Blake's eyes. He was about to call for a doctor when his assistant burst through the door.

"Mr. Gilbert, Miss Pruitt is awake, but she's hysterical. She's threatening to slit her wrists again!"

One sentence. That was all it took for him to drop me back onto the floor without a second thought.

"Get every doctor to Agatha's room immediately. Have them on standby!"

He glanced down at me, already half-unconscious on the cold tiles.

"Send another nurse in here. Keep drawing Elaine's blood."

Nathan Voss's face twisted with discomfort.

"Sir, Mrs. Gilbert has already lost too much blood. If we keep going, something could happen."

Blake let out a barely perceptible scoff.

"She's always been tough as nails. Nothing's going to happen."

"Besides, this is what she and her mother owe Agatha."

"As long as Agatha pulls through, I'll send her abroad for treatment after she's discharged. As for Elaine, I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to her."

He didn't look at me again. His footsteps hurried down the hallway and faded.

The needle pierced my skin once more. I didn't struggle this time. I just closed my eyes, too exhausted to fight.

A bitter smile ghosted across my lips.

Blake, you won't get the chance to make it up to me.

Because once someone is dead, they don't need anything anymore.

The nurse tried everything, but my body had nothing left to give. Not a single drop.

She stared at the empty syringe, her face pale with alarm.

From outside the door came Blake's furious, impatient roar.

"What are you standing around for? Get that blood to Agatha's room, now!"

The nurse fumbled to pull the blanket over me, then stumbled out of the room.

"Mr. Gilbert, Miss Harding has lost too much blood. There's nothing left to draw!"

Blake frowned and let out a cold grunt.

"Nothing left? Then let her rest for a couple of days and try again."

The blanket covered my face. My consciousness was slipping, dissolving at the edges.

Even so, when I heard his words, I couldn't help but laugh. A cold, quiet laugh.

A couple of days?

He didn't know I wouldn't survive the next two hours.

My body had lost the ability to produce blood. At this rate of loss, I would slip into a coma and die within minutes.

When my consciousness finally scattered into nothing, I felt no sadness.

Only relief. The relief of someone who had finally been set free.

When I opened my eyes again, I was floating in midair.

Not far away was Agatha's room. The hallway outside it was packed with medical staff standing at attention, ready to respond at a moment's notice.

I watched Blake rush through the door, his face tight with worry, and my eyes burned.

Just a few steps away from where he stood, I had died in silence.

He hadn't cared. His heart, his eyes, his every thought belonged to his adoptive sister.

Blake knelt beside the hospital bed, cradling Agatha's face in both hands, his gaze full of anguish.

"Agatha, you're finally awake. You scared me half to death."

"Please, I'm begging you, don't ever do anything like that again."

His voice held a tenderness I had never once been given.

Agatha burst into tears, delicate as rain on pear blossoms.

"I'm fine. I just missed Mom and Dad so much."

The same act as always. The same performance.

For five years, every time Blake showed me even a shred of mercy, she would pull something like this and shove me right back into the abyss.

Agatha eyed the blood bags piled beside her hospital bed, a smug little smile curling at the corner of her lips.

She's dying to see me dead, yet the words that come out of her mouth are dripping with hypocrisy.

"Did Elaine donate a lot of blood for me again?"

"This is all my fault. I'm always causing trouble for everyone. She must have suffered so much because of me. Do you think she hates me?"

Blake patted her head, his eyes brimming with indulgence.

"She has no right to hate you! This is what she and her mother owe you!"

I hovered in midair, trembling uncontrollably.

Owed her? But what happened back thenmy mother was the victim.

After my father died, Mom worked in a factory during the day and took a cashier job at a bar at night, just to support me. She was honest and hardworking, wanting nothing more than to give me the best life she could manage.

Working in a place like that, she was careful about everything. She wouldn't even wear anything other than the plainest clothes.

But none of that mattered. Someone still set his sights on her.

The man who assaulted her was Agatha's father.

When Mom fought back, he wrapped his hands around her throat and threatened to kill me.

To buy her silence, he gave her a check afterward.

Mom was too afraid to go to the police. She swallowed her pain in silence, and the weight of it dragged her into severe depression.

But in Blake's eyes, all of that became evidence that she had seduced the man on purpose.

He approached me deliberately, pursued me with everything he had.

On our wedding night, he said he wanted to try something exciting.

I was lost in the tenderness of his trap. I didn't refuse. I let him pose me however he wanted.

But the next morning, those intimate photos were everywhere online.

Overnight, I became a slut in everyone's eyes.

The shock sent Mom into cardiac arrest. She was rushed to the emergency room.

And what did he do? He had someone strip me naked and drag me to her bedside.

Mom was so enraged she coughed up blood. Blake just gripped my chin and smiled, cruel and unhurried.

"You love being a homewrecker so much? Then let the whole world see exactly how filthy the bastard daughter of a whore can be."

I sobbed and begged and explained, but none of it earned me an ounce of mercy.

Even after Mom died, he refused to let me go.

Five years. I was forced to take over a thousand different medications and donate blood more than a hundred times.

I went from a perfectly healthy person to a broken shell who couldn't survive without pills.

And all of itevery last bit of itbecause of a few ambiguous words from Agatha's mouth.

How could I not hate them?

I lowered my gaze and looked at Blake's worried face. My smile turned cold.

Well, he got what he wanted in the end.

The debt he claimed I owedI paid it back with my life.

But what about me?

Everything I suffered. The truth buried for all those years.

What was he going to pay me back with?

Perhaps remembering just how miserable these past few years had been for me, something rare flickered across Blake's eyesa flash of emotion.

He glanced back toward my hospital room and smiled, calm and composed.

"Elaine's had a rough time. Consider it the daughter paying her mother's debt."

"All these years, for your sake, I never once showed her any affection. But your health is nearly back to normal now."

"Once you're discharged, I'll send you abroad to recuperate. It's about time I made a fresh start with her."

I couldn't help it. I laughed until tears spilled from my eyes.

A fresh start?

My body was probably already stiff and cold. How exactly did he plan to start fresh?

A flash of jealous hatred cut through Agatha's eyes.

But when she opened her mouth, her voice was as gentle and sweet as ever.

"Blake, I know that punishing Elaine so harshly all these years for my sakethe one who suffered the most was really you."

"I let go of what happened a long time ago. It's my fault Elaine went through so much. Once I'm discharged, I'll leave. Just promise me you'll make it up to her, okay?"

Blake clasped her hand, his face brimming with emotion.

"Agatha, you're truly kind. If only Elaine had half your good sense."

Outside the door, a nurse's frantic voice cut through.

"Mr. Gilbert, your wife seems to have lost consciousness. She's not responding at all. Please come quickly!"

Blake rose to his feet, irritation written across every line of his face.

"She's faking it again. Always playing the fragile little victim."

He turned back and tucked the blanket around Agatha's shoulders.

"Be good, Agatha. Let me go see what kind of scene Elaine's making this time. I'll be right back."

Agatha nodded obediently.

But the instant Blake turned away, she let out a desperate scream.

She held up her phone with trembling hands, her whole body shaking.

"Blake, I never meant to pressure her into giving blood. Why is she threatening me?"

Blake's expression shifted to alarm. He snatched the phone from her hands.

On the screen, a message glared back at him, sent from my number.

"You filthy tramp. If you don't stop clinging to Blake, I swear I'll have someone put you in the ground."

Blake's face turned to ice. His fingers went white around the phone.

"Good. That's just wonderful."

"Clearly she hasn't suffered enough if she still has the energy to threaten Agatha."

He bent down and scooped Agatha into his arms, a cold laugh escaping his lips.

"Don't be scared, Agatha. I'm going to make her get on her knees and beg your forgiveness right now."

I shook with rage, wanting nothing more than to rush forward and tear his face apart.

Last night, when he'd had me tied down at the hospital to draw my blood, he'd confiscated my phone to keep me from running. Not only couldn't I have sent a threatening text, I couldn't even check the time.

All of that, and he'd already forgotten.

Blake carried Agatha in his arms and strode toward my room. He kicked the door open.

"Elaine, are you done with your little tantrum?"

"You've really gotten bold, haven't you? Threatening Agatha now? Have I been too easy on you?"

His voice was thick with fury, but the only answer he received was silence. Dead, absolute silence.

My head was covered by the blanket. He couldn't see my face, ashen and drained of every last trace of life.

Blake's brow furrowed. His tone grew more agitated.

"Don't think playing dead will get you out of this. Get up. Now. And apologize to Agatha."

Still nothing.

His anger deepened. He crossed to the edge of my bed.

"Elaine, you think ignoring me means I can't do anything to you?"

"Since when did you learn to play dead? It's disgusting."

I hovered behind him, watching him with cold, empty eyes.

Blake, I'm not playing. I'm just actually dead.

And the dead can't speak.

When I gave no reaction at all, his patience finally snapped. Blake reached out and grabbed the edge of the blanket, ready to rip it away.

A strange flicker of anticipation stirred inside me.

If he pulled it back, he would see my gray, lifeless face. He would know that the woman lying here was nothing more than a cold, silent corpse.

But in the next instant, Agatha threw herself at him, trembling violently, latching onto his arm with both hands.

"Blake, she must be so angry right now. She's hiding under the covers because she doesn't want to see me."

"This is all my fault. My illness is always causing trouble for both of you. Please don't force her. Just let her rest."

Tears streamed down her face, the picture of someone desperately holding herself together through unbearable hurt.

Blake's heart clenched. The rims of his eyes went red.

He released the blanket without a second thought and pulled Agatha into his arms.

"Agatha, you're too good for this world. Unlike some people, who do something this vile and then have the nerve to play dead."

He glanced back at me one last time, the disgust in his eyes naked and unashamed.

"Elaine, since you don't know what's good for you, then stay in here and think about what you've done!"

He called his assistant over, his expression ice-cold.

"Get some people up here. Weld this door shut. Even if she's on her knees begging, don't let her out."

"I want to see just how stubborn she really is, and how long she can hold out."

He scooped Agatha into his arms and walked out of the room without looking back.

I hovered in midair, unable to stop the bitter laugh that escaped me.

Blake, I won't be begging you to let me out.

After all, in this weather, it wouldn't take long for my body to rot.

Blake carried Agatha straight home.

The entire drive, he was restless, kept glancing at his phone without thinking.

Every time before, after I'd been forced to give blood, I would call him the moment I regained consciousness. I'd tell him how much it hurt. I'd beg him to investigate what really happened all those years ago.

But this time, there was nothing. An eerie silence.

No missed calls. Not even a single text.

Agatha watched his distracted state, jealousy plain on her face.

"Blake, is Elaine still mad at you?"

"What if she really won't talk to you? Maybe I should go apologize to her and explain things?"

Blake's face twisted with irritation. He slammed his fist against the steering wheel.

"Apologize to her? She doesn't deserve it."

"Don't worry about her. Every time after the drug trials and blood draws, she puts on this pathetic half-dead act. I'm sick of it."

"You're leaving the country in three days. If she doesn't bother us, even better. That way I can focus on spending time with you."

He snatched up his phone like a man possessed, jaw clenched, and blocked every single one of my contact methods.

For the next few days, he stayed glued to Agatha's side. He didn't think of me once.

It wasn't until the third night that he finally, almost as an afterthought, picked up his phone and pulled up my number.

Before he could even dial, a call came in from Nathan.

"Mr. Gilbert, you need to come to the hospital right away. Something might have happened to your wife."

"We've been standing guard outside the door for three days like you ordered. There hasn't been a single sound from inside the room, and the smell keeps getting worse."

"It's like... something's rotting in there. Sir, is it possible she's already dead?"

Blake frowned, about to respond, when Agatha came stumbling toward him.

Her face was white with panic, phone clutched in her trembling hand, sobbing so hard she could barely breathe.

"Blake, the cemetery manager just called me. Someone smashed my parents' headstone!"

"Was it Elaine? If she hates me, I'll go die, just please, can you ask her not to do this to my mom and dad?"

Blake froze for a split second. Then his eyes turned vicious.

"That bitch Elaine actually did something like this. She's truly lost her mind."

He drove his fist into the wall, then whipped around and snarled into his phone.

"Get people over there right now. Dig up that bitch's mother's ashes."

"She had the nerve to destroy Agatha's parents' headstone? I won't let her off easy this time."

"You tell her, if she won't get on her knees and apologize, I'll scatter her mother's ashes to the wind."

I screamed and lunged at him, trying to grab his collar, to tell him it wasn't me.

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't touch him at all.

I collapsed to the ground in despair, tears streaming down my face.

By the time Blake arrived at the hospital with Agatha, Nathan was already standing outside the room, holding the urn.

Blake took it from him and kicked the door open.

The next instant, the stench hit him so hard he nearly doubled over retching.

Blake covered his nose and screamed at my body on the bed.

"Elaine, how long are you going to keep playing dead?"

"I lock you up for a few days and you turn the whole room into a cesspool!"

"You have three seconds to get up, get on your knees, and beg Agatha for forgiveness!"

"Three. Two. One!"

The countdown ended. The room stayed silent.

Blake's fury swelled. Without a moment's hesitation, he raised the urn of ashes and hurled it against the floor.

It shattered into pieces.

I dropped to my knees, scrambling to gather what was left, but it was useless. My hands passed through everything.

A gust of wind swept through, and my mother's ashes scattered completely.

When I still didn't movewhen my body still didn't moveBlake lost the last shred of his patience.

He let out a cold laugh, strode to the bed, and grabbed a fistful of my hair, yanking hard.

A rotting, bloated corpse tumbled off the mattress and rolled to his feet.

Blake froze.

Then a scream tore out of himraw, guttural, loud enough to echo through every corridor of the hospital.