Till Death Do Us Part

On the third day after my death, Eliza Sutton received the call to claim my body.

She was resting in another man's arms. She said nonchalantly, "He's dead, huh? Just cremate it and call me afterward."

My body was fed to the flames and reduced to ashes. When the staff were done, they contacted Eliza again.

Irritation flashed in her eyes as she snapped, "I heard you. I'm on my way."

By the time Eliza Sutton arrived, two hours had already passed. Strands of her hair clung messily to her face. It wasn't hard to tell she had just left some man's bed.

She found the staff and sneered. "Where are Gordon's ashes? Didn't you ask me to claim them?"

After confirming her identity, the staff handed her the urn containing my remains.

Eliza accepted it carelessly, mockery gleaming in her eyes.

"Is this really Gordon's ashes? You didn't just shovel in some random cat or dog to fool me, did you?"

The staff stiffened. "Ms. Sutton, these are indeed Mr. Ford's ashes. Everything is properly recorded. Would you like to see the paperwork?"

Eliza let out a chuckle. "No need. I believe you."

I exhaled in relief. Somehow, even in death, my soul lingered. I couldn't explain why, but perhaps it was because I had not yet been laid to rest.

Now that Eliza believed I was gone, I thought that—even if she hated me—out of respect for what we once shared, she would at least bury me properly.

But before I could feel any comfort, she suddenly gave a sharp cry. The urn slipped from her hands, and my ashes scattered across the floor.

Eliza's lips curled into a cruel smile. "Oops. My hand slipped."

Then she lifted her foot and ground her high heel mercilessly into the ashes.

My breath caught. I stared into her half-smiling eyes, opened my mouth, but no sound came.

Not until my ashes were pressed deep into the cracks of the floor, mingling with dust and dirt, did she finally withdraw her foot, satisfied.

Looking at the staff frozen in stunned silence, she laughed.

"Make sure to tell Gordon, schemes and tricks don't work on me."

She added, "In a few days, it'll be my mother's death anniversary. He had better show up at her grave to atone. Otherwise… even if he's truly dead, I won't hesitate to dig up his corpse and flog it myself."

Her words were laced with such icy venom that even the onlookers paled.

But I knew. She would do it. She truly would.

For the first time, I was grateful my body had already been reduced to ashes. Otherwise, the sight would have been unbearable.

Before the staff could object, Eliza was summoned away by a phone call.

Strangely enough, my spirit followed her.

Helpless, I found myself seated in the passenger seat, listening as she spoke to the man on the other end.

I recognized the guy's voice instantly. It was Caleb Sutton, the Sutton family's adopted son.

When Eliza and I were still in love, he had come to me once, demanding that I leave her. When I refused, he turned vicious—spreading rumors at my company, hiring thugs to harass me.

Eliza found out. She had him beaten so badly he couldn't walk for days, and warned him that if he dared lay a finger on me again, she'd drive him out of the Sutton family herself.

Only then did he quiet down.

But the moment he brought me up now, the warmth drained from her expression. Her face tightened with disgust.

"Why mention him? It's not as if he's truly dead."

"And if he really were dead, Eliza? What would you do then?" Caleb's voice probed cautiously.

My chest clenched. I turned instinctively toward her.

The Eliza I knew—if I so much as scraped my hand—would ache as if the pain were her own. She used to tell me I was her one true love, the only man she would ever love in this lifetime.

But now, her lips curved into a cold smile.

"If he were really dead, I'd throw a party lasting three days and three nights, and set off fireworks across the entire city to celebrate."