Husband and Stepsister Murdered Me,I Returned for Blood

I died beneath the fireworks over Victoria Harbor.

While streamers of light burst across the sky, Otis Vance had his arms around my stepsister Carissa Henson, celebrating in his Summit Peak villa. He'd just secured the final piece of the Walker Realty puzzle.

And I had been injected with an air embolism by his private physician.

"Mrs. Vance had a severe heart condition. The sudden death was natural."

That was the story Otis gave the press.

Every newspaper in Harbor Bay mourned the passing of Mrs. Vance.

They said he was inconsolable, hadn't slept in three days, even canceled the company's annual gala.

The whole city praised Otis Vance for his devotion.

What no one knew was that my heart condition had worsened because Otis himself had been swapping out the ingredients in my daily medication.

"Carissa is carrying my child. She can't stay hidden in the shadows forever."

"You're sitting in the seat that belongs to her. She can't even go to a public hospital for her prenatal checkups."

"Marina Henson, you've always loved her more than anyone. Think of it as helping her one last time."

His voice, when he said those words, was as gentle as if he were coaxing me to swallow a piece of candy.

After I died, Otis collapsed in tears at my funeral.

The media coverage was relentless: "Billionaire Otis Vance devastated by the loss of his wife, breaks down repeatedly at the service."

His devoted-husband image earned him Walker Realty's final trust, and the billion-dollar deal closed without a hitch.

Three months later, he married Carissa Henson.

Six months after that, he climbed into the top five on Harbor Bay's wealth rankings.

Otis and Carissa lived in decadent bliss, not a care in the world.

And all I could do was watch them, eyes burning with a hatred that tasted like blood.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back. Three years in the past.

Crystal chandeliers scattered prismatic light across the grand ballroom of The Peninsula Hotel. Otis Vance's mother, Valerie Lyons, was smiling at a roomful of guests as she made her announcement.

"Our Otis and the eldest Miss Henson will be married next month."

My father, Dudley Henson, raised his glass in agreement. My stepmother, Layla Fox, smiled with practiced grace.

And my dear sister Carissa was clinging to Otis's arm, a flicker of barely concealed triumph in her eyes.

I looked at all of it, and I laughed.

"Marina, what are you standing around for? Get over here and make a toast."

My father's voice carried from across the room, edged with displeasure.

I pulled my gaze away from Otis and picked up the champagne flute in front of me.

"Coming, Dad."

I walked over with a smile. As I passed Carissa, my steps faltered for just a fraction of a second.

She was wearing a pale yellow couture gown.

The same one I'd admired at the atelier last month but hadn't had the nerve to buy.

I'd thought it was too extravagant at the time. Over four thousand dollars, enough to cover a regular family's expenses for months.

But the sales associate told me afterward that Carissa had gone in the very next day and bought it on Otis's black card.

"You look so beautiful today, Marina."

Carissa beamed at me, all sweetness, that tiny beauty mark near the corner of her eye making her look impossibly delicate.

In my previous life, I'd thought her smile made her look like a harmless little rabbit.

Now I knew better. That was no rabbit. It was a viper wearing an innocent skin.

"You look lovely yourself, Carissa."

I smiled back at her.

Behind it, nothing but cold, silent contempt.

Valerie Lyons walked over with her wine glass, looked me up and down, and gave a satisfied nod.

"Marina carries herself more like a proper matriarch every day. Our Otis is a lucky man to have you."

In my previous life, those words would have left me flushed and grateful, ready to drop to my knees and thank her for the honor.

Now all I heard was the irony.

Valerie Lyons had never been a kind woman.

After Otis's father died, she was the one who held the Vance empire together while her son was still a boy. Her ruthlessness was legendary across the Financial District.

The Vance family didn't want me. They wanted the land parcel near Kaitak Airfield that my father controlled.

It was the last prime parcel in Harbor Bay. Whoever secured it would dominate the city's real-estate landscape for the next decade.

My father, Dudley Henson, was chairman of Henson Architecture on paper. In reality, he was the biggest land broker in the entire Harbor Bay property circle.

The land he'd stockpiled was enough to bring any developer in the city to their knees.

That was why Otis Vance had been willing to marry me.

Not because he loved me. Because of my father's land.

In my previous life, I didn't understand that until the moment I died.

"You're too kind, Aunt Valerie."

I dipped my head slightly, respectful but not subservient.

"Marrying Otis is the real blessing."

A flicker of satisfaction passed through Valerie's eyes.

Otis appeared at my side without my noticing. His long fingers settled lightly on my waist.

His body heat seeped through the thin fabric of my gown, and every muscle in my body went rigid.

In my previous life, those hands had held me when I was at my most vulnerable, gripped mine through labor, spooned porridge into my mouth at my hospital bed.

Those same hands had placed the swapped medication between my lips.

"You look beautiful tonight, Marina."

His voice was low and warm, threaded with a resonance like a cello's deepest note.

I lifted my gaze to meet his. Dark, fathomless eyes.

Otis Vance was thirty-two years old, the youngest billionaire in Harbor Bay.

Sharp bone structure, a brow ridge cut like a blade.

When his thin lips pressed together, he looked coolly untouchable; when he smiled, he was as gentle as a spring breeze.

That face had fooled all of Harbor Bay.

It had fooled me for a lifetime.

"Thank you." I smiled, then shifted half a step to the side, easing away from his hand as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

This time around, I could see straight through the act.

Otis's hand hovered in midair. A brief, arrested pause.

He glanced at me, a trace of confusion surfacing in his gaze before he could smooth it away.

In my previous life, at events like these, I would have been pressed against him, unwilling to leave even an inch of space. The idea of me pulling away would have been unthinkable.

"What's wrong?"

His voice dropped low.

"Nothing. Just a little warm."

I tossed the words out carelessly and turned toward the balcony.

The Peninsula Hotel's balcony faced Victoria Harbor.

I drew in a deep breath and let the evening breeze cool the flush on my skin.

Footsteps behind me.

I didn't turn around. I already knew who it was.

"Marina."

Otis came to stand beside me and held out a glass of ice water. "Something on your mind lately?"

I took the glass but didn't drink.

"No. The wedding's getting close. Probably just nerves."

"Nervous about what? You have me."

He said it with absolute certainty, as though stating a fact no one could dispute.

In my previous life, that single sentence had moved me to tears.

Now all I wanted to do was laugh.

"Otis, I have a question."

I turned around, leaned back against the railing, and tipped my face up to look at him.

Moonlight traced every line of his profile in sharp relief.

"Go ahead."

"If one day Carissa and I were both in danger, who would you save first?"

His expression locked for a fraction of a second.

A fraction so small most people would have missed it. I didn't.

"Where's this coming from?"

He laughed and ruffled my hair, the gesture so practiced it might as well have been rehearsed a thousand times.

"Just curious."

I tilted my head and gave him my most innocent smile.

He was quiet for two seconds. Then: "You, of course."

I smiled.

What a load of garbage.

In my past life, Carissa and I had been kidnapped together.

While I lay in a pool of my own blood, he'd gone to Carissa first, made sure she was okay, and only then came to hold me.

He thought I'd lost consciousness. What he didn't realize was that I'd seen every last second of it.

"Good to know."

I rose onto my toes and pressed a light kiss to his cheek. "I'm going to run to the restroom."

The instant I turned, I caught a reflection in the balcony's glass door: Carissa, standing just behind it, wineglass clenched in her hand, knuckles white.

She was listening.

And I had put on that little show on purpose.

The closeness with Otis made my stomach turn on instinct, but if it could make the two of them just as sick, it was worth it.

I let my lips curl upward and walked toward the restroom in my four-inch heels, every step sure and steady.

This time around, I was the hunter.

In front of the restroom mirror, I studied the face staring back at me.

Twenty-four. The best years of my life, still ahead.

My features weren't the kind that stopped traffic, but they were clean, striking in their own way.

A sharpness around the brows and eyes that Carissa's delicate, doe-eyed look could never match.

In my past life, I'd convinced myself I wasn't pretty enough, wasn't soft enough, wasn't likable enough, so I bent over backward for everyone, gave until there was nothing left to give.

And where did that get me?

I was the first one to die.

I fished my phone out of my clutch and scrolled to a number I hadn't dialed in a long time.

"Hello? Colin Dickerson? It's Marina."

An older voice came through, startled and warm with recognition.

"Marina? Miss Henson? What made you think of old Colin after all this time?"

Colin had been my mother's personal driver and was now the best private investigator in all of Harbor Bay.

After my mother passed, Layla had pushed him out of the Henson household. These days he ran a small detective agency to make ends meet.

"Colin, I need you to look into a few people for me."

"Name them, Miss Henson."

"First, I need everything you can find on the relationship between Otis Vance and Carissa Henson. Every detail."

"Second, I want all of the Vance Group's overseas transaction records for the past five years."

"And last..."

I paused, lowering my voice.

"Look into my father's accounts."

Silence on the other end. A few long seconds.

"Miss Henson, are you saying you want to..."

"Colin. Just tell me whether you can do it."

"I can."

His voice hardened with sudden resolve. "Your mother was the kindest person I ever knew. Now that she's gone, these old bones of mine ought to do right by her daughter."

I hung up and turned back to the mirror to touch up my lipstick.

True red.

In my past life I'd worn dusty rose, soft and harmless.

Not anymore. I wanted to be sharp, wanted to be unmistakable, wanted every last person to see that Marina Henson was no one's pushover.

By the time I stepped out of the restroom, the banquet was winding down.

Guests were drifting toward the exits in twos and threes. My father, Dudley, was flushed from drinking, laughing loudly with a cluster of old associates.

Layla Fox walked over and looped her arm through mine with practiced warmth.

"Marina, you did wonderfully tonight. Mrs. Lyons was very pleased with you."

Her perfume, some new Cartier release, was so heavy it almost made me sneeze.

In my past life, I'd thought that was how elegance smelled.

Now all I could smell was the fakeness underneath.

"Thank you, Aunt Layla."

I gave her a small smile.

"By the way, where's Carissa? I just saw her on the balcony a moment ago, and now she's vanished."

Something flickered across Layla's face, quick and uneasy.

"She wasn't feeling well. She left early."

"Not feeling well?" I arranged my expression into one of concern. "Is it serious? Maybe I should go check on her."

"No, no, that's fine."

Layla waved her hands quickly. "She said she wants some time alone. Don't bother her."

I nodded, though inside I was laughing.

Whenever Carissa wasn't "feeling well," she was usually off seeing Otis.

In my past life, I'd been gullible enough to believe it. I even had someone send a bowl of bird's nest porridge to her room.

Looking back, she probably dumped that porridge straight down the toilet.

After the banquet, the driver took me back to the Henson Estate in Crescent Bay.

As the car passed through the Harbor Bay tunnel, my phone buzzed.

A message from Colin.

"Miss Henson, I've got a lead on the first thing you asked me to look into."

"Otis Vance and Carissa Henson have been in contact since three years ago. You and he had only just met."

I stared at the message. My fingers tightened around the phone.

Three years ago.

Back when I was still in London finishing my master's.

Otis had reached out to me through my father's connections, saying he wanted to discuss a joint project.

I thought he genuinely valued my talent.

Turns out the whole thing was a setup from the very beginning.

I was the prey. He was the hunter.

And Carissa was the one who helped him lay the trap.

The car pulled up to the estate gates. I stepped out and noticed the living room lights were still on.

Carissa was sitting on the sofa, cradling a mug of warm milk, the TV tuned to a late-night financial broadcast.

The moment she saw me walk in, a sweet smile spread across her face.

"You're back! How was the banquet?"

"Fine."

I kicked off my heels and sat down across from her.

"Marina, there's something I want to tell you."

She set her mug down, her expression turning serious.

"Go ahead."

"I I think I've fallen for someone."

Something flickered inside me, but my face gave nothing away.

"Who?"

Carissa bit her lip, as if she were wrestling with some monumental decision.

"It's it's Otis."

When she said his name, her eyes were bright and glassy, tinged with a girl's shyness and longing.

She'd confessed the same way in my past life.

Back then, I thought she was being brave and honest. I was stupid enough to comfort her, telling her there was nothing wrong with having feelings for someone.

And then she showed up at my wedding in a white gown, standing at Otis's side.

"Carissa." I looked at her, my voice terrifyingly calm. "You do know he's my fianc, right?"

"I know."

Her eyes rimmed red, her voice cracking with the first tremor of tears.

"That's exactly why I feel so terrible."

"But feelings aren't something you can control. I've been suffering too"

She broke down mid-sentence, shoulders hitching, tears spilling like rain on pear blossoms. The picture of delicate, pitiful beauty.

In my past life, those tears had softened me completely. I even wiped them away for her.

Now I felt nothing. I simply sat there and watched her perform.

"Carissa, are you sure it's him you like, or is it his money?"

Her sobbing hitched.

"How can you say that?"

She lifted her head, eyes raw and red. "You really think I'm that kind of person?"

Of course you are.

I answered her silently, a cold laugh trapped behind my teeth.

"Just asking."

I stood up. "It's late. Get some sleep. We have the wedding dress fitting tomorrow."

"Marina" Carissa stopped me. "You won't tell Mom and Dad, will you?"

I glanced back at her.

Tears still clung to her cheeks, but her eyes were perfectly, unnervingly clear.

"Don't worry. I won't."

I turned and headed upstairs, the faintest trace of an ice-cold smile curving my lips.

Of course I wouldn't tell Mom and Dad.

Because what I wanted was for the two of them to lose control on their own, to expose themselves without any help from me.

The next day, at a bridal boutique in the Financial District.

I stood in a pure white wedding gown, studying my reflection in the mirror.

In my previous life, I'd cried with joy when I tried on this very dress.

I'd believed it was a symbol of the happiness waiting for me.

Now, all that white did was hurt my eyes.

"You look so beautiful, Marina."

Carissa stood beside me, her eyes brimming with envy.

"Otis is going to be absolutely speechless when he sees you."

"You think?" I spun in front of the mirror. "Carissa, why don't you try one on too? We're already here."

Carissa blinked, then waved her hands.

"No, no, this is your fitting. I couldn't possibly..."

"Don't be silly. Just try it."

I pressed another gown into her hands with a smile.

"Look at this one. It's a mermaid cut. It would be perfect on your figure."

Carissa hesitated for a moment, then disappeared into the fitting room.

Five minutes later, she walked out in the mermaid gown.

In the mirror, she looked like a siren fresh from the sea.

A slender waist, delicate collarbones, an air of fragile beauty that made you want to protect her.

"Does it look good?"

She asked in a small, shy voice.

"It does." I meant it. "Better than me, honestly."

A flush crept across Carissa's cheeks, and she lowered her gaze, fidgeting with the hem of the skirt.

That was when the boutique door swung open.

Otis walked in.

He wore a charcoal suit today.

No tie. The top two buttons of his shirt were undone, baring a sliver of collarbone.

"Marina, I'm here to pick you up..."

His words died the instant he saw Carissa.

She stood before the mirror in that wedding gown, afternoon light pouring through the floor-to-ceiling windows, gilding her in gold.

Something shifted in Otis's eyes.

The change was subtle. If I hadn't spent a lifetime memorizing every micro-expression on that face, if I hadn't been watching for it on purpose, I never would have caught it.

His pupils dilated. His Adam's apple dipped and rose. The rhythm of his breathing changed.

That was the reaction of a man looking at the woman he loved.

"Otis."

Carissa lifted her head, offering a bashful smile.

"Marina made me try it on. Does it look okay?"

"It does."

His voice went rough for a split second.

He recovered fast, crossing the room to me and sliding an arm around my waist.

"But my bride is still the most beautiful one here."

I laughed inside. Cold, bitter laughter.

Out loud, I kept my voice sweet. "Otis, I think Carissa looks so much better in a wedding gown than I do. Why don't we let her be my maid of honor and wear this dress to the ceremony?"

Otis's expression stiffened, just barely.

A maid of honor in a wedding gown?

That was practically begging to be upstaged at your own wedding.

The old me had been blind to games like these.

I'd believed sisterly love mattered more than anything.

So when Carissa showed up at my wedding in a bridal gown and stole every camera in the room, I hadn't blamed her.

This time, I was the one making the suggestion first.

And I planned to fan the flames even higher by sending previews and invitations to every media outlet in Harbor Bay.

I wanted the entire city to see Carissa Henson standing next to Otis Vance in a wedding dress.

If there was going to be humiliation, we were all going to share it. Better than being the only fool.

"That doesn't seem appropriate," Otis said, frowning.

His brow creased.

"What's inappropriate about it?" I tilted my head. "Carissa is my sister. What's wrong with letting her dress up a little?"

Carissa chimed in right on cue.

"That's right, Otis. I'm happy to play the supporting role for my sister."