I drifted along behind him, floating like a restless ghost all the way to the hospital, until I found myself in Alice's ward.

There she was, lying on the hospital bed, her face pale and pitiful, as though she were the very picture of tragedy. But looking at her only brought a fresh wave of agony as I thought of my own child—a child fully formed, yet never given the chance to see this world.

I glared at Alice and Grayson with a rage so fierce it burned through my spectral being. In that moment, I wished I could transform into a vengeful spirit and drag these two wretched souls to the grave to accompany my child.

"Grayson, do you blame me?" Alice murmured, her voice soft, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "If it weren't for me, you could've saved Belle first."

"Don't be ridiculous," Grayson replied, cradling her as though she were made of glass. He gently patted her back, his voice tender as a spring breeze. "She's always been strong. I've already sent people to rescue her. A little hardship won't kill her."

"But she is your wife," Alice hesitated, her voice trembling. "Even if she had made a mistake…"

"Mistakes should be punished," Grayson interrupted coldly. His words were sharp, slicing through me like a blade.

Grayson. Do you even know? This punishment you speak of—it has already cost me my life. And the life of our child.

Grayson and I had grown up together. We were childhood sweethearts, tied by an old-fashioned betrothal made when we were kids. Alice came to the Blackwood family when she was six years old, and from that moment on, Grayson treated her better than any blood sibling could.

I had loved him for as long as I could remember. But Grayson was always distant. He had rejected my advances more than once.

There were times I suspected he harbored feelings for Alice. Yet, when I confronted him, he brushed it off, saying she was nothing more than a sister to him.

Then Alice went abroad. That night, Grayson drank too much and kissed me, pinning me against the wall in a haze of liquor and desperation.

I was too overwhelmed to resist, my heart soaring as though I'd won the lottery.

The next day, his face was grim, but he told me he'd take responsibility.

And so, he married me. No proposal, no wedding photos, no honeymoon, not even a proper confession of love.

I knew he didn't love me. He married me because he felt obligated after that one drunken mistake.

But I couldn't stop myself from falling deeper for him. I thought marriage would change things. That someday, he'd love me the way I loved him.

It never happened.

After the wedding, he was neither warm nor cold—just indifferent. Even our physical intimacy was mechanical, like an obligation he had to fulfill. Three times a week, no more, no less.

Then, in our second year of marriage, Alice returned from abroad. Pregnant. She refused to say who the father was.

During that time, Grayson came home every day—every single day. He'd even cook dinner just to make sure Alice ate well.

Jealousy consumed me. I couldn't help myself. I argued with him, accused him, let my anger spill over into bitter, reckless words.

"If someone didn't know better, they'd think she was your wife, not your sister!" I snapped. "Or are you so worried about her because the child she's carrying is yours?"

That was the first time Grayson hit me.

The slap came out of nowhere, leaving me stunned and seething with fury.

I didn't notice Alice standing at the doorway, watching.

I stormed off, crying, determined to go back to my parents' house. Alice stopped me at the door.

"Belle," she said, her voice shaking with hurt, "I didn't know you thought of me as such a shameless person. I still have some dignity—I would never do something so immoral. I'll leave tomorrow. I'll go abroad again."

After that, Grayson and I didn't speak for half a month. Or rather, he froze me out completely.

In the end, Alice didn't leave. I cooled off and felt guilty, eventually apologizing to her.

But she never forgot.

She harbored that grudge until one fateful day when she grabbed my hand and threw herself down the stairs.

And just like that, her child was gone.

Grayson witnessed the entire scene with his own eyes.

"Belle, if anything happens to Alice, I will never forgive you for the rest of my life."

From that moment on, Grayson's disdain for me deepened, growing colder with each passing day. He even brought up divorce.

I clung to him desperately, refusing to let go, but our marriage was already teetering on the edge, hanging by a thread.

Alice had always been a thorn between us—sharp, immovable, impossible to ignore or remove.

I looked at Grayson now and wondered: if he knew I was dead, would he feel relieved that he was finally free of me?

Grayson's phone rang. He answered it, not bothering to put it on speaker. I drifted closer, curious. Could it be someone calling to report my death?

I studied his face intently, waiting to see his reaction when he learned I was gone.

But when I glanced at the screen, I froze.

The caller ID displayed my name.

The voice that came through the line was unmistakably mine.

"Grayson, I can't believe you abandoned me to save Alice! I want a divorce!"

His expression darkened instantly.

"Belle," he said coldly, "since you're fine, get back here."

"If you want me to come back, you'll have to kick Alice out!"

"Then don't bother coming back at all. You're better off dead out there," he snapped, slamming the phone down.

His words hit me like a blow, sending a fresh wave of pain through me.

Well, he's gotten his wish. I'm dead and gone, never coming back.

Still, I couldn't shake the question: who made that call? It couldn't have been me.

"Grayson, you should go check on her," Alice's soft voice broke the silence. "After all, she's carrying your child."

"My child?" Grayson scoffed, his tone dripping with disdain. "That baby's father is probably some random guy she picked up from who knows where."

"Even if it's mine," he added coldly, "she and the child together aren't worth as much to me as a single one of your fingers."

Though I was dead, his words tore through me, leaving an ache in my chest I couldn't explain.

He hated me. He hated me so much that when my father died unexpectedly, he didn't even bat an eye.

"Grayson, why don't you just divorce her? You don't love her. I want to be with you," Alice murmured.

"Alice, we're siblings," Grayson said firmly.

"Grayson, do you really see me as just a sister?" she shot back, her tone laced with bitterness. "Don't forget, I'm not biologically part of the Blackwood family."

"Alice!" Their mother's voice rang out, sharp as a whip. Her face was pale with anger. "What are you saying? You and Grayson may not be related by blood, but you grew up together! How could you even think that? You… You're going to be the death of me!"

"Mom," Alice said, her eyes filled with defiance, "you've loved me since I was little. If Grayson has to marry someone, why can't it be me? What does Belle have that I don't?"

"Grayson, you're already married to Belle, and you have a child together now. You need to get your priorities straight," his mother said sharply.

"Go and bring Belle back. Apologize properly. As for your sister, I'll handle her. All this nonsense she's been spouting is nothing but the ramblings of a confused mind," she added, putting an end to any argument.

"Belle is still your wife, no matter what. Right now, she doesn't know what's going on, and you shouldn't be here. You should be out there finding her and bringing her back," she pressed, her expression darkening as she looked at the pair of them.

My heart grew colder with every word. So I was the only one kept in the dark? The sickening relationship between Grayson and Alice—was I the only fool who didn't know?

And now they wanted to keep deceiving me? I stared at these familiar faces, which now felt so alien and repulsive, and I couldn't help but feel disgusted.

If the accident hadn't happened, would they have kept lying to me my entire life?

"Mom, I'll apologize to Belle," Grayson said, his tone reluctant. "But right now, Alice's health is more important. Belle has already been found, and she's fine. She's back at her family's home and doesn't want to see me right now. I'll go get her once Alice's condition is stable."

"Grayson, this is unacceptable! You need to go find Belle immediately," his mother snapped.

Clearly, she didn't know that I was already dead. None of them did. They all thought I was still alive.

"Mom," Grayson said impatiently, "I already told you, I can't leave Alice right now. If you're worried, I'll call Belle. But I'm not leaving."

With a look of annoyance, Grayson dialed a video call.

In our seven years of marriage, Grayson had rarely called me, let alone made a video call. I was always the one calling him—always the one waiting, hoping he'd answer, only to be ignored or hurriedly dismissed.

Who would've thought I'd have to die to see him take the initiative to call?

His mother furrowed her brow, her concern evident. "She's pregnant, after all. She was caught in an earthquake. Who knows if something happened to her?"

The call connected, and the woman on the screen was me—or at least, she looked just like me.

I stared at the video, my eyes wide. It took a long moment before I realized that this woman wasn't me. She looked uncannily similar but wasn't me.

"Belle," his mother said, "we're all concerned about you. Don't be so unreasonable. Come back. I'll pretend none of this happened."

Grayson, clearly annoyed, tilted the phone so his mother could see the screen. Then, before the woman on the other end could respond, he hung up.

"She's fine," he said coldly. "She's always been lucky. This is just one of her old habits flaring up again. Ignore her for a few days, and she'll come to her senses."

The icy indifference in his voice sent a shiver through me. I couldn't believe these words were coming from the man I'd shared my life with.

The man I'd shared a bed with couldn't even tell if the woman on the screen was me.

His blatant favoritism toward Alice and his utter disregard for me were undeniable. He wouldn't spare even a shred of concern for me, but for Alice, his devotion was shamelessly obvious.

If she so much as frowned or coughed, he'd spring into action as though the sky was falling.

Once, during a thunderstorm, when the rain poured heavily, Alice called him in tears, saying she was scared. Without hesitation, he left my side, even though I was burning with a high fever, and stayed with her the entire night.

The next morning, when my fever had subsided somewhat, I confronted him in anger. But he only looked at me coldly and said, "Stop being unreasonable."