A sharp gasp snapped me out of my memories.

Someone finally realized Nana wasn't faking. A frantic passerby dialed 911.

Yet, Liam remained unmoved. His gaze turned even colder, and after a moment, he let out a dark scoff.

"She's acting, right? I can't believe Chloe is using her own grandmother to get my attention."

His voice dripped with venomous hatred.

His assistant looked confused and asked tentatively, "Mr. Hayes, is this the same Chloe you call out for in your sleep?"

Liam's body tensed, and a heavy silence fell over him.

I looked up at him, my ghostly heart racing.

He called my name in his sleep?

Against my better judgment, a sliver of hope sparked deep within me. But Liam didn't answer her. Instead, he turned and walked toward the tech executives who had come to greet him.

"I heard you haven't been back to the States in three years, Liam. A lot has changed around here," one of them said.

Liam replied absentmindedly, "I was back briefly, two years ago."

Two years ago.

Right around the time I accidentally drowned.

I remembered.

I had mustered all my courage to call Liam back then. I wanted to tell him that I had finally divorced Sebastian. I foolishly believed that maybe, just maybe, he still loved me as deeply as I loved him.

My marriage to Sebastian had utterly destroyed me.

The agonizing torment of being separated from Liam, combined with Sebastian's suffocating control, had broken me mentally.

I developed chronic insomnia, couldn't eat, and wasted away until I was practically a walking corpse.

Sebastian dragged me to countless doctors, but I was just merely existing, clinging to life by a thread.

All I wanted was to see Liam one more time.

One night, Sebastian tried to be intimate with me. But as he buried his face in my neck, he suddenly pulled away, looking bored.

"Your heart still belongs to someone else. Chloe, I'm tired of you. Let's get a divorce."

The man who had been so obsessively possessive of me had grown bored of his broken toy in less than a year.

That day, I remembered the promise Liam had once made: that we would be together forever, building our future.

As I signed the papers, Sebastian mocked me, "You're free, Chloe."

Driven by an almost desperate yearning, I dialed Liam's number. It rang for what felt like an eternity. My palms were sweating. When he finally picked up, my heart hammered in my chest.

But before a smile could even form on my face, his icy voice shattered my heart.

"Chloe, are you calling to congratulate me? I'm getting married next month."

I don't remember how I hung up the phone.

Death has a way of blurring the details.

I was standing on a desolate beach, the waves lapping at my ankles.

The tide rose, freezing cold, until it swallowed me whole.

Sebastian might have called me around that time, or maybe he didn't. I can't clearly recall.

After that, there was nothing but darkness.

The piercing wail of ambulance sirens yanked me back to the present.

Watching the paramedics load Nana into the ambulance, I hovered anxiously beside them, following them all the way to the ER. Throughout her resuscitation, I prayed to every god listening to keep her safe.

Two hours later, Nana finally opened her eyes.

A wave of immense relief washed over me.

"I want to go home," she mumbled weakly. "Ella is waiting for me." She tried to sit up, tugging at her IV lines.

"Nana, no, please," I sobbed, my voice as soft as a whisper. "You need to rest. You're safe here."

But she couldn't hear. My pleas went unheard, unheeded.

She insisted on being discharged. The nurses tried to talk her out of it, but her dementia had taken hold, and she was stubbornly adamant. Eventually, the nurses relented and let her go.

She didn't return to her own apartment; instead, she went straight to my old house, the one she had meticulously maintained since my death.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Chloe... I'm so useless." She sat on the edge of the bed, looking as lost as a child.

"Are you mad at me? Is that why you never visit me in my dreams?"

No! No! Nana, I'm right here!

I threw my arms out to hug her, but grasped nothing but air.

Her eyes were completely bloodshot. She had cried so hard she could barely stand. Yet, leaning against the wall for support, she began to obsessively tidy up my room.

It was her way of comforting herself.

She told herself I was just on a business trip, traveling far away, and that I'd be back any minute. She would set an extra plate for me at dinner, along with my favorite cup.

She folded my clothes, ironed them, and placed them neatly in my drawers.

Once she was done, she changed her clothes and left the house.

I followed her all the way to Half Moon Bay. My ashes had been scattered in the Pacific Ocean here.

Grandma came to this cliffside often, bringing my favorite boba tea and pastries. She would sit there for hours, talking to the wind.

"Chloe," she whispered, her voice carrying on the breeze. "I saw Liam today. He's all grown up now, a big shot in high society. He doesn't remember me, sweetheart. Or you." She wiped a tear from her cheek.

"Go home, Nana," I pleaded. "It's getting cold, and you need to rest." But she couldn't hear my words.

Late that night, under the moonlight, Nana collapsed once again. I stood by her side, screaming in terror. Thank god, a late-night jogger found her and dialed 911.

She was rushed back to the hospital.

I stayed faithfully by her bedside. My anxiety only eased slightly when she finally woke up.

At dusk, the door opened.

It was Sebastian Cole.

Nana's face filled with absolute hatred; she firmly believed that Sebastian had murdered me.

When my body was pulled from the ocean two years ago, the police found my waterlogged phone.

The very last call had been from him.

Even though the coroner ruled my death an accidental drowning, she remained convinced he was the killer.

I studied Sebastian. He looked like a stranger. His face was gaunt, his eyes sunken, and his designer clothes hung loosely on his frame.

Shouldn't he be living the life he wanted without me around? Why did he look like a walking corpse?

Sebastian offered a faint smile, as if the man he used to be had completely faded away. His usually calculating eyes now held a strange, desolate look.

He spoke softly. "You should try to be happy. It's what Chloe would have wanted."

Nana's body stiffened, and a low, raspy growl tore from her throat: "Get out! I don't want to see your face! Go to hell!"

Sebastian stood at the foot of the bed, a ghost of a smile touching his lips. "Chloe definitely inherited her stubbornness from you."

In that instant, everything snapped. Nana violently yanked the IV lines from her arm. Blood immediately welled up, staining the white bedsheets red.

"You took her away from me!" she shrieked, her voice rising, hoarse with agony. She lunged at Sebastian, beating him with her frail fists, scratching, and kicking.

Sebastian didn't move an inch, just letting her hit him.

Five minutes later, Nana collapsed against the edge of the bed, sobbing helplessly. Her fury had drained away, leaving only pure pleading: "Please... give my baby back."

"Give her back to me," she begged, her voice choked and desperate. "Please, give my Chloe back to me."

Sebastian's eyes glistened with unshed tears, but he forced a nonchalant facade. "Don't be so angry, Grandma. I really just came to see you. After all, Chloe was my wife."

Nana snapped her head up, her pale face streaked with tears. She grabbed him by the collar and screamed hysterically, "You killed her! What did you say to her the last time you called?! Tell me!"

Her grip gave out, and she slid to the floor. Sebastian reached out to help her up, but she swatted his hands away.

In that brief moment, the aura of sorrow radiating from him was palpable.

But why would he be sad? I didn't understand.

Sebastian lowered his eyes, a self-deprecating smile forming on his face. "What else could I have said? I was just... begging her to come back to me."

Before Nana could even process his words, she clutched her chest. She pointed a trembling finger at him, her mouth opening, but no sound came out.

My heart pounded. No, don't!

She was gasping for air, her body curling into a fetal position, trembling uncontrollably.

I rushed into the hallway, screaming for a doctor, but people just walked right through me.

"Excuse me, which room is Rose Miller in?"

Amidst my panic, I heard a familiar voice coming from the nurses' station. It was Liam.

He was still wearing his tailored suit, holding an expensive bouquet of flowers. The nurse told him the room number.

He hesitated for a second before asking, "Is her granddaughter, Chloe, with her?"

Maybe it was my imagination, but his voice seemed to tremble.

The nurse shook her head. "No, sir. There's no record of her."

Sebastian must have heard the commotion. He stepped out of the room. Their eyes met. Sebastian narrowed his eyes, a twisted, mocking grin spreading across his face.

"Well, well, well, look who finally decided to show up. The great Liam Hayes, actually stooping so low as to visit a hospital."

Liam ignored him and rushed into the room. Seeing Nana collapsed on the floor, he immediately shouted for the medical staff.

I drifted alongside the stretcher into the ICU. After an agonizing hour, the doctor announced her condition was stable. Only then did I finally breathe a sigh of relief.

I wandered over to the waiting area and found Liam and Sebastian locked in a silent standoff.

Sebastian leaned against the wall, sizing Liam up with a sneer. "You came to the hospital looking for her, didn't you? After all these years, you still can't let her go."

Liam looked exhausted, with heavy dark circles under his eyes.

Had he not slept at all? Even in a suit, he looked somehow smaller, thinner.

He frowned, not understanding what Sebastian was implying.

"Looking for her? Does she even deserve it?" Liam scoffed.

"Still in denial? Go ask the nurses. They said there's no record of a Chloe here. You came to the wrong place, Hayes."

Liam sneered, his tone stiff and dismissive. "Don't speak nonsense. Chloe doesn't deserve my visits. She abandoned me, remember? She chose your money. The only thing she deserves from me is contempt."

"Unless she gets on her knees and begs for my forgiveness."

He was still obsessed with making me kneel—his twisted revenge for the night I walked away from him.

Sebastian stared at him, his jaw practically dropping. Then, a low chuckle slowly bubbled up from his chest, quickly morphing into a twisted, hysterical laughter.

The laughter echoed down the quiet hallway, bone-chilling and deeply unsettling.

He threw his head back and laughed like a madman, his face contorted with a mix of dark amusement and utter despair.

"You... hahahaha... you really don't know, do you?" he managed to say between bouts of laughter. "You're completely clueless."

Liam stared at him as if he were looking at a lunatic.

Sebastian wiped away a tear of mirth from his eye, stood up straight, and walked right up to Liam.

"Do you genuinely not know that Chloe Miller is dead?"

Liam's expression went completely blank; his pupils didn't even dilate.

I held my breath.

Liam finally knew the truth. What would he say? Would he care?

His reaction was colder than the grave. Snapping out of his daze, he let out a harsh, grating laugh.

"Dead? Wow. Talk about perfect timing. Good for her."

I stood frozen. A single tear slid down my cheek.

How could I have ever thought he would mourn for me?

He hated me. He was cheering for my death—exactly what I should have expected.

But it still hurt so much. His smile was like a serrated blade, viciously sawing through my non-existent heart.

Sebastian clearly hadn't anticipated this reaction from Liam, either.

His manic smile vanished. Suddenly, he lunged forward, grabbing Liam by the collar, his eyes wild.

"I said she's dead! Didn't you hear me?!"

"I'm not deaf," Liam retorted, effortlessly shoving him away.

Compared to Liam's icy indifference, Sebastian's fury was baffling.

He was the one who had pushed me into the abyss, yet now he was acting like the devoted, heartbroken lover.

But his rage was genuine; he looked like a wild beast cornered and backed against a wall.

"Why?!" Sebastian roared. "Why are you so numb?! The woman who loved you most in the world is dead, and you don't even shed a single tear!"

Liam sneered. "She loved money! She betrayed me! Her death has absolutely nothing to do with me."

"She was a gold digger, a traitor," he spat. "She got what she deserved."

That answer obliterated the last of Sebastian's sanity. With a vicious right hook to the jaw, Sebastian sent Liam crashing to the floor.

"You bastard! She died because of you! If she hadn't tried to save you—"

"What?" Liam froze. He looked up, staring at Sebastian, completely ignoring the blood trickling from his split lip.

Sebastian gripped his own hair tightly, pacing back and forth like a madman, muttering into the void: "No, no... It's all my fault. I killed her. I shouldn't have let her go. I'm the one who should be dead."

He had completely lost his mind.

Liam slowly got to his feet, his brow furrowed in a tight knot.

He stared at Sebastian's back, his gaze beginning to waver.

His breath hitched, a flash of genuine panic crossing his face as if he were suddenly grasping some horrifying truth.

He bit down hard on his lower lip until it bled. "Sebastian, are you out of your mind? Is this some sick joke? Do you think telling me she's dead is funny?!"

Sebastian stopped pacing. He took a deep breath, a single tear sliding down his cheek.

Before I could even decipher the emotion in his eyes, Sebastian raised his hand and slapped himself across the face, hard.

"I wish it were just a joke too!" he choked out. "But she's gone! She would rather drown in the freezing ocean than come back to me!"

I watched in stunned silence as Sebastian completely broke down. After slapping himself, he stumbled out of the hospital corridor like a drunkard.

My attention immediately snapped back to Liam. He was wiping his bleeding lip, his hand trembling violently. He pulled out his phone.

The moment the screen lit up, I gasped.

His lock screen wallpaper was still the photo of us in our cramped startup office all those years ago.

He frantically opened Instagram and went straight to Sebastian's profile.

When had he started following Sebastian? I thought he had blocked every account related to me years ago.

I rarely used social media, but during our marriage, Sebastian posted pictures of us obsessively, trying to craft the image of a perfect couple.

Strangely, even after I died, Sebastian never stopped posting.

Every day, he posted photos with a woman—breakfast in bed, luxury vacations, silhouettes against the sunset. People in our social circle whispered that he had gone insane.

The latest photo Sebastian had posted that very morning showed the back of a woman in a silk robe, slightly turned, revealing red lips with a silver lip piercing. The piercing was located exactly where I used to have a small red mole on my face.

The caption read: "Waking up every day to see the love of my life lying right beside me."