My eyes widened in disbelief. Only now did I realize the depth of Eliza's hatred. She loathed me so much that even my death was, to her, something worth celebrating.

But Eliza… I truly am dead. It's only you who refuses to believe it.

The car pulled up in front of a bridal shop. Eliza stepped out in her high heels and hurried inside, so quickly she nearly twisted her ankle.

The sight was achingly familiar—just like that day long ago, when we secretly registered our marriage and she dragged me into a bridal boutique. Back then, she couldn't wait to slip into a wedding gown and twirl before me with shining eyes.

She told me she was the happiest bride in the world, and that I was the most handsome groom.

But now… she stood in another white gown, beaming as she posed beside Caleb in his crisp ivory suit. Together, they looked like the perfect couple.

"Beautiful," Caleb murmured with a soft laugh, his gaze brimming with affection. "Eliza, I've waited a long time for this day."

Stunned, I could only watch as he lowered his head and pressed his lips to hers.

I lunged forward, desperate to stop it, but my hand passed straight through her body. Helpless, I stared as Caleb slid a ring onto her finger.

How could this be? Why him? He was the one who caused her mother's death!

Eliza!

My throat burned, my soul raw with anguish. Yet no matter how I screamed, no sound reached her ears.

I stood frozen, numb, as Caleb stroked her hair and asked casually, "By the way, Eliza… is he all right?"

We both knew who he was referring to.

Her expression turned flat, tinged with impatience.

"What could possibly be wrong with him? He's just pulling some kind of prank."

"Then, for our wedding, should we invite him?"

Her lashes lowered, hiding the emotions in her eyes. Then, her lips curved into a cruel smile.

"Of course. He's an important guest."

And in that moment, I understood. She wanted me to witness her wedding with my own eyes.

After all, it was the very thing I had longed for most.

Because back then, without her mother's approval, we had only gotten the marriage certificate. There was no ceremony, no vows, no wedding. It became my greatest regret.

But then her mother died, struck down by a heart attack. And on the night she passed, her final phone call had been to me.

So naturally, Eliza believed I was the one who drove her mother to her grave.

At Eliza's mother's funeral, Eliza forced me to kneel before the tombstone for an entire day and night.

The rain poured down as we stared at each other through the storm.

Her eyes were desolate, heavy with hatred. She said, "Gordon, from this day forward, you and me—we're mortal enemies."

From that moment, I ceased being her lover and became her sworn enemy.

She hated me. She tormented me. Yet she refused to let me go. She even brought men home to spend the night.

When she saw my eyes redden, she would laugh softly, pat my face, and mock, "Hurts, doesn't it? But you brought this on yourself. Who else can you blame?"

No matter how desperately I tried to explain, it only fueled her cruelty.

Why would she ever doubt her own judgment? She knew her mother despised me and swore not to ever let me set foot inside the Sutton household.

Eliza had fought her countless times because of me, even threatening to sever ties with her family just to stay by my side.

And yet, the man she had loved most had become, in her eyes, the one who killed her mother.

How could she ever accept that?

When Caleb finally left, Eliza seemed to remember me.

With a show of false generosity, she pulled me out of her blacklist. One hand on the wheel, she used the other to dial my number.

For a while she waited, her brows gradually knitting tighter.

Then, with a sharp slap against the steering wheel, she snarled, "Gordon, if you don't pick up, you're dead."

But Eliza… you don't understand.

It's not that I refuse to answer.

I can't. Ever again.

Half a month passed before Eliza finally returned to our home.

She shoved the door open with violent force, the sharp click of her heels echoing through the hall.

"Gordon, get out here!"

One door after another she flung open, but still, she couldn't find a trace of me.

Her already dark expression grew even stormier. While ordering her subordinates to track me down, she muttered under her breath, "Gordon, if you want to run, you'd better run far. Because when I catch you, I'll break your legs myself."

But the man whose legs she threatened to break stood right before her eyes.

Before long, one of her subordinates sent a location.

Her expression twisted into something terrible. Puzzled, I glanced at the screen, only to see it was Jude Lawson's home.

"Ms. Sutton," a subordinate reported, "Mr. Ford's last call was to Jude Lawson. She claims she never saw him, but we suspect she kidnapped him."

Eliza gave a cold laugh. "Kidnapped? Hah. More likely he went willingly. I'll be right there."

She stormed toward Jude's home, her face like thunder, and kicked at the tightly shut door.

Once. Twice. At the third strike, the door swung open.

Jude stood there, her expression calm, though a bruise bloomed darkly beneath her eyes.

"What is it?"

Eliza sneered. "You've hidden my husband. You tell me, do I have a reason to be here?"

Jude's face remained impassive, as though she had already given up on the world.

"I haven't hidden him. He's dead. The crematorium already notified you to collect his ashes."

"So he even got you to play along? Hah. Looks like Gordon is dead set on hiding from me this time."

She refused to believe I was truly gone, convinced it was another one of my tricks.

Tilting her head, she called into the house, her voice sharp with fury.

"Gordon! What kind of man are you, hiding behind a woman? I'll count to three. If you don't come out, don't blame me for what happens next."

Three. Two. One.

With a sudden shove, she knocked Jude to the floor and barked an order for her men to search the house.

Jude cried out in pain, her calm expression cracking into fury.

"Eliza! Gordon is dead! You personally collected his ashes. Have you forgotten? He's gone. He's been gone for days!"

She grabbed Eliza by the collar and slammed her against the wall.

Eliza's eyes narrowed, her lips curling in mockery.

"Even now, you want to hide him? Jude, you really are devoted. But too bad for you, he loved me. When I tire of him someday, if you still want him, maybe I'll let you have him.

"But not now. He still has to kneel before my mother's grave and beg forgiveness. He hasn't got the time to keep you company."

Jude's face and neck flushed red. She yanked harder at Eliza's collar, gritting through her teeth.

"Eliza, you're a monster."

Her hand whipped across Eliza's face with a crack, snapping her head to the side.

In an instant, the two women were locked in a vicious brawl.

The old say the dead feel nothing. But my chest swelled with such pressure I thought it might explode.

Jude, though athletic, was no match for Eliza's years of taekwondo training. Within minutes, Eliza had her pinned to the floor, fresh bruises blooming across her face.

I spun in frantic circles, powerless.

"Look at you, Jude," Eliza sneered. "Pathetic. Nearly beaten to death for Gordon, while he hides, letting you take the blows. Is that coward worth your love?"

Jude's lips twisted into a bitter, mocking smile. Her eyes glittered with scorn.

"Eliza, the one who's truly pathetic… is you. A woman who mistakes her mother's killer for a lover, a woman who harms the very person she claims to love. You're an idiot."

"What did you say?"

Eliza's hand lifted, sharp and cold, ready to strike again—

But just then, a panicked voice rang out.

"Ms. Sutton! We found the surveillance of Mr. Ford's car accident, and… his autopsy report."