Ava Bell POV:

Carter knelt beside my body again, his gloved hand hovering over my cheek. His brow was furrowed, a flicker of something akin to sadness in his eyes.

"No one deserves this," he murmured, his voice softer now, almost a whisper. "No one deserves to die like this."

You say that now, Carter. But when I was alive, you were the one who pushed me towards it. I wondered what he would say if he knew it was me. Would he still claim I deserved better? Or would he twist it, somehow, to be my fault? He was a master at that too.

His gaze drifted from my face, down my arm. He stopped at my wrist. There, a small, faded tattoo. A delicate, winding vine, with tiny, almost imperceptible thorns. It curved around my wrist like a protective bracelet.

I had gotten it years ago, after a particularly harsh rejection from Cecelia. It was a symbol of resilience, of growing despite the pain. It was small, discreet, barely noticeable unless you looked closely.

I remembered Carter' s reaction to it. "What's that monstrosity, Ava?" he' d asked, his eyes filled with disdain. "Looks like something a troubled teenager would get. Can't you hide that with a watch? It's unprofessional."

Now, he stared at it. Will he recognize it? Will it finally click?

He leaned even closer, examining the faded lines. Then, he straightened up. "Just a tattoo," he stated, his voice devoid of emotion. "Probably from years ago. Another irrelevant detail for the report."

My ghost heart sank. Of course. Irrelevant.

"Mr. Rios, we found this inside her." A forensic technician, a young man with glasses, approached, holding up a clear plastic evidence bag. Inside, nestled among folds of what looked like torn fabric, was a small, worn sketchbook.

Carter took it, his eyes narrowing in professional curiosity. He didn't open it immediately. "Analyze it," he ordered. "Every page. See if there are any clues, any names, anything that can help us identify her."

Just then, his phone vibrated. A distinct, melodic ringtone. Cecelia's. It was the only custom ringtone he had. He snatched it from his pocket, his stern expression immediately softening.

"Cecelia, darling. Are you alright?" His voice was laced with concern, a stark contrast to the cold efficiency he used for everyone else.

"Oh, Carter," Cecelia's voice, high-pitched and fragile, drifted from the phone. "I'm just so worried. About everything. This... this murder. It's so close to us. Are you safe? And Ava... have you heard from her?"

Her concern was a performance. I knew it. He didn't.

"I' m fine, sweetheart. Don't worry. I'll make sure you're safe," Carter promised, his eyes scanning the desolate condo, as if searching for an unseen threat to her. "As for Ava... she's probably just being dramatic again. Trying to get attention. You know how she is."

"Yes," Cecelia sighed dramatically. "Always causing trouble. I just hope she hasn't done anything to endanger herself, or worse, you, my love."

"She wouldn't dare," Carter scoffed. "She knows her place. If she's pulled one of her stunts, she'll regret it. Just focus on resting, Cecelia. I love you. I'll be home as soon as I can."

He hung up, the tenderness vanishing as quickly as it had appeared. He looked at the sketchbook in his hand, his eyes hardening.

"Find out what this girl was up to," he commanded the technician, referring to my lifeless body. "And quickly. We can't have this distraction on our hands."

Distraction. That's all I ever was to him. A distraction. Even in death. His words, overheard by my observing spirit, were a fresh wound, a confirmation of his unwavering blindness.

Ava Bell POV:

Carter' s phone rang again, a jarring buzz in the quiet, sterile office. He glanced at the caller ID, his brow furrowing slightly, a flicker of irritation crossing his face. It was Davian Ortega, his law partner and friend.

"Davian," Carter answered, his voice clipped.

"Carter, have you heard from Ava?" Davian's voice, usually calm and measured, was laced with genuine concern. "She missed her appointment at the clinic. And she's not answering her phone. I'm worried."

Carter exhaled slowly, a sound of profound annoyance. "Ava? What appointment are you talking about? And why are you 'worried'? She's probably just off on one of her self-pitying tangents."

"The cardiac clinic, Carter," Davian said, his voice sharper now. "The one for her heart condition. She was supposed to have a follow-up. You knew about this, right? She told you she had a severe heart condition."

He told you, Carter. I told you. Over and over.

"Heart condition?" Carter scoffed, a harsh, disbelieving sound. "Please, Davian. She probably made it all up to avoid donating to Cecelia. You know how manipulative Ava can be. Always trying to get attention."

"That's not fair, Carter," Davian countered, his voice firm. "Ava isn't like that. And even if you think she is, she's been unreachable for days. Something feels wrong. You've changed, man. You really have."

"Don't you dare question me, Davian," Carter growled, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "My fiancée is fighting for her life, and Ava is just being her usual, dramatic self. If you're going to side with her, then maybe you should reconsider whose side you're on." He paused, his voice softening with feigned sincerity. "Cecelia needs me, Davian. I love her."

He loves her. He always loved her. And I was just the girl who loved him. The words echoed in the hollow space where my heart had been.

Carter hung up abruptly, slamming his phone onto the desk. He ran a hand through his hair, his face flushed with anger.

"Unbelievable," he muttered, pacing the office. "The nerve. Davian, of all people."

A junior associate, a nervous young man named Mark, looked up from his computer. "Everything alright, Mr. Rios?"

Carter stopped, forcing a semblance of calm. "Just Ava, creating drama as usual. Davian thinks she's missing. Probably just looking for attention." He waved a dismissive hand. "She'll turn up eventually, looking for sympathy."

Mark nodded, though a faint frown creased his brow.

"You know, Carter," Miller, the detective, said, leaning against the doorframe. He had just walked in, having heard the tail end of the conversation. "You need to be careful. People sometimes forget what's real when they're too close to a situation."

Miller' s words were meant as a warning, a subtle nudge, but Carter just bristled.

I remembered Carter's wedding day. He had looked so happy, so radiant, standing beside Cecelia. I had watched from the back, a silent observer, my heart both soaring and shattering for him. I wanted his happiness, even if it wasn't with me.

Then, the first social event after their wedding. A gala, glittering with the city's elite. Carter insisted I come. "You're family, Ava. You need to be seen."

I felt like a fish out of water, my simple dress lost amidst the designer gowns. My hands trembled as I held a champagne flute. I was nervous, intimidated by the opulence.

Cecelia, draped in silk and diamonds, glided over to me, a predatory smile on her lips. "Look at you, Ava," she purred, her voice carrying just enough for those nearby to hear. "Still clinging to Carter's coattails, are we? Trying to make an impression? You look utterly out of place."

My face burned. I wanted to disappear.

"Cecelia, don't," Carter said, his voice low, but he didn't intervene. He just watched, his expression unreadable.

"She's right," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "I don't belong here."

"Then leave!" Cecelia hissed, her eyes glinting with malice. "Go back to your little studio and hide. You're embarrassing Carter."

I turned and fled, tears blurring my vision. Carter didn't stop me. He watched me go, and then turned back to Cecelia, his hand resting on her back reassuringly.

That was the night I knew. Truly knew. My place with Carter was gone. It had never really existed.