After I Died, My Husband Broke Up With His First Love

Before I reincarnated, I finally got to see my husband, the man I'd been pining for day and night.

But what awaited me at my own grave was a scene I never expected. My husband, Ethan Collins, was standing beside a heavily pregnant woman, both paying their respects to me.

"Hannah, I know I've let you down. Rest in peace."

"Hannah, don't worry, I'll take good care of Ethan for you."

A surge of fury burned through me. A rage so intense it felt like it would tear me apart.

What a pair of vile, shameless cheats!

In that moment, I decided I wasn't ready to reincarnate.

No, I'd stay right here, close to these two, and make their lives a living nightmare.

I trailed behind Ethan, my spirit floating silently as he walked back home.

"Ethan, why did you change the locks?"

"I've told you countless times. We're done. Besides, this is my house now. Why wouldn't I change the locks?" Ethan replied, his tone sharp and impatient.

It had only been a few months since my death, yet my father had aged terribly.

His hair had turned completely gray, and his once-straight back was now hunched over.

Yet, Ethan seemed more energetic than ever.

He draped his arm around the woman's waist, a cold smirk playing on his lips. "There's nothing to discuss about the company. You're old enough to enjoy retirement now, so just let it go."

I recognized the pregnant woman. She was Sabrina Kane, Ethan's cousin from his hometown.

And now it all made sense. This was nothing but a carefully orchestrated con.

I'd never seen my father like this before.

He'd spent his whole life fighting his way to the top, building the Stone Group into a powerhouse, and it was just about to go public.

But then I died at the worst possible moment.

"Ethan, no matter how much you despise us, you can't just ignore what's right! This house was bought for Hannah. How can it suddenly be yours?"

"This house is part of our marital assets. She's gone now, so as her legal heir, it belongs to me. What's so unreasonable about that?" Ethan shot back. His irritation barely concealed.

"Please, Mr. Stone, just go home. It's getting late, and today is Hannah's memorial day. Let's not make a scene."

Sabrina pulled out a key and opened the door.

Together, she and Ethan shoved my father outside, slamming the door shut behind them with a loud bang.

My father stood there, dejected, before slowly sinking to the ground. He buried his face in his hands, weeping quietly.

This once proud and powerful CEO, who had commanded respect and admiration, was now reduced to a pitiful figure sitting on the doorstep, like a child who had just lost his most cherished possession, or someone who had done something terribly wrong.

I instinctively reached out to help him up, but then reality hit me like a truck. I was already dead.

At first, I was confused.

How could the man I had loved for eight years turn into this cold, heartless stranger overnight?

But the truth soon dawned on me. Ethan had always been like this.

For eight long years, he had stayed by my side, pretending to be the loving, devoted husband while secretly harboring a deep-seated hatred for my entire family. He had been patiently waiting, biding his time, all the while enjoying the privileges and comforts that came with being associated with us.

Fury surged through me as I clenched my fists, and I didn't even feel the resistance as I phased through the door, drifting into what was once my home.

"Ethan, do you think it's really okay to leave Hannah's father sitting out there like that? Shouldn't we at least let him in? He's old, after all," Sabrina cooed, her voice sickeningly sweet as she stroked her swollen belly.

Ethan pulled her into his arms, his voice dripping with false tenderness. "You're too kind for your own good. You're carrying our baby, and you want to bring that old man inside? How would you get any rest?"

Then, with a sly grin, he leaned in and kissed her. "How about we..."

"No, no, we can't! The baby knows everything."

Sabrina giggled, pushing him away playfully before darting into the bedroom.

I felt bile rise in my throat.

Before I could even float into the bedroom after them, the unmistakable sounds of their lovemaking filled the air.

They were doing it on my bed.

The sheets hadn't even been changed, and my silk nightgown was still draped over the bedpost, a cruel reminder of the life I once had.

"Ethan Collins, you deserve to rot in hell!" I seethed, the rage boiling inside me.

I opened my mouth wide, imagining the pleasure of tearing them apart in the midst of their twisted, disgusting pleasure.

But my fury wasn't strong enough.

Only vengeful spirits with a deep well of hatred could take lives directly.

Just then, a ghostly figure with wild, tangled hair emerged from the wardrobe. She whispered in my ear, "Did you know? Your husband used to sneak off to the bathroom while you were asleep to make phone calls. He'd tell her how he was going to be rich soon and how they'd be together."