A month later, Emily was discharged from the hospital. Caleb, ever the type who loved grand gestures, bought her a sprawling villa to help her heal, complete with all the luxuries one could need for a full recovery.

To celebrate her release, he threw an extravagant party, inviting a crowd of their mutual friends.

Some unseen force kept my ghostly form tethered to Caleb, forcing me to watch as they moved through life together, in and out of places I once thought were ours.

At the party, the spotlight-seeking Emily clung to Caleb despite her still-fragile condition, leaning into his embrace with a coy smile, their whispered exchanges like little daggers. Her brazen display didn’t go unnoticed, and the whispers around them grew louder.

When one of Caleb’s friends casually brought up my name, Emily’s smile stiffened for just a moment. She forced a small, self-conscious laugh, her eyes dropping.

"Caleb, are we... doing the right thing?" she said, her tone carefully crafted to sound self-effacing. "I mean, I’m still just... no one. If Grace finds out, she’s bound to be upset."

Caleb’s expression darkened, his jaw tightening. "Why bring her up on a day like this? She’s bad luck."

With that, he boldly took Emily’s hand, raising his voice to ensure everyone in the room heard him.

"Emily is the woman I love most in this world. I’d appreciate it if no one ever brought up irrelevant people again."

The room fell into a stunned silence. His words sliced through the air, cold and final, leaving no room for misinterpretation. The message was clear: I, his wife, had become a ghost long before my death.

My eyes stung, the hollow ache of betrayal tightening around my chest.

So this was what I’d become—a stand-in, a mere shadow of his true love. Caleb’s heart had always belonged to Emily, not me.

We used to be childhood sweethearts, the kind that family friends would tease about ending up together. I fell in love with him at sixteen, clinging to that one offhanded confession he made as a teenager, letting it shape the next decade of my life.

Alas, teenage love is paper-thin. When Caleb met Emily in college, all the memories we’d built together crumbled into nothing. I watched from the sidelines as they fell in love, biting back my feelings, keeping my distance like a polite stranger.

Then, Emily suddenly left for another country, and they broke up.

It was during one of his drunken, reckless nights that Caleb found himself cornered by thugs, and I had stepped in desperately and recklessly. I had distracted them long enough for him to escape, my own life hanging by a thread.

Before he had passed out from blood loss, he had gripped my hand and whispered, "Grace, as long as I’m alive, I’ll always be good to you..."

When he woke up, he kept that promise. He was gentle, attentive, the perfect boyfriend. Marriage felt like the natural next step, and for a while, we were the couple others envied.

Just then, Emily returned, like a storm ripping through my carefully built world. She claimed her sudden departure had been due to a mysterious illness, a revelation that shattered Caleb’s resolve.

First, he started coming home late. Then, he stopped coming home at all. When he did, his conversations always found their way back to her—Emily this, Emily that, her favorite foods, her recovery progress, her every breath.

I thought if I endured it, if I played the patient, forgiving wife, he might eventually come back to me.

I couldn’t have been more wrong.

In the end, my shattered, bleeding body lay on that operating table, and my ghost was trapped forever in this cold, indifferent world. Meanwhile, Caleb stood by her side, whispering sweet nothings into the ears of the only woman he ever truly loved.

A few days later, Caleb’s phone rang as he held Emily close, her head resting comfortably on his shoulder. It was his mother.

"Caleb, it’s been a while since I’ve seen you two. Why don’t you bring Grace over for dinner tomorrow? I tried calling her, but her phone’s been off for days. What have you both been so busy with?"

Hearing her familiar voice, a deep ache spread through my ghostly chest. She had been my mom’s closest friend. After my parents died in that car accident, it was she who had taken me in and treated me like a daughter when I had no one left.

Caleb’s expression darkened, and a bitter sneer twisted his lips. "Mom, don’t waste your kindness. She’s just an ungrateful leech. Even if she’s mad at me, she shouldn’t be ignoring your calls. That’s just disrespectful."

I stood right in front of him, my spirit bound to this nightmare, hearing him reduce me to nothing but a thankless parasite.

"Caleb, I know you still care about that other woman," his mother said, her tone both sharp and pleading. "But you married Grace. You have a responsibility to her. I don’t want to have to answer to her mother in the afterlife for failing her daughter."

His expression grew even darker. After a few curt, dismissive replies, he hung up, his gaze softening immediately as he looked down at Emily. He managed a gentle, reassuring smile, the kind he used to give me, and held her closer.

"Caleb," Emily whispered, as if a sudden thought had crossed her mind, "has Grace... has she not tried to contact you at all?"

"Contact me?" he scoffed, his jaw tightening. "Why should she? She nearly killed you. It’s better if she stays gone."

He paused, his expression growing suddenly serious. "Emily, just give me a little more time. Once I finalize the divorce, I’ll make this right. I’ll give you the title you deserve."

Emily’s eyes brightened, and she snuggled deeper into his chest, her voice dripping with false humility. "I don’t care about that... as long as Grace doesn’t hate me."

"She wouldn’t dare," Caleb interrupted her, reassuring her with a low, possessive tone while holding her firmly, attempting to quell her fears.

Watching this, a bitter, twisted rage flared in my chest. How could he promise her this when he’d sworn his life to me just years ago?

Perhaps in preparation for this impending divorce, Caleb actually came home the next day.

He entered our house, and his brows knitted together when he didn’t see me. His irritation flared. He had the connections to find me if he really wanted to, but the fact that he hadn’t even tried until now made one thing clear—he was waiting for me to come crawling back to him.

Days passed, and when I still didn’t appear, his calls started coming in, each one angrier than the last.

Then, one day, his phone buzzed again. This time, it was an unknown number. Assuming it was me, he snatched it up without hesitation.

"Grace, you’ve got some nerve, ignoring me—"

"Is this Grace Trevor’s family member?" a calm, professional voice cut him off. "Her body has been in our hospital morgue for almost two months now. Could you please come to identify and claim it?"

I watched as Caleb’s entire frame went rigid. His hand froze in midair, the blood draining from his face. He forced out a bitter laugh, his voice dripping with disbelief.

"Is this some kind of sick joke? Grace? That woman wouldn’t die even if the world were ending."

"I’m sorry, sir," the voice on the other end continued, unshaken. "You’re currently listed as her primary emergency contact. You’re the only one we could reach."

A sharp, humorless laugh burst from his throat. "Then, just treat her like an unclaimed body," he spat before slamming the phone down.

His eyes burned darkly, his chest rising and falling with each angry breath.

I felt a twisted sense of satisfaction. He really hadn’t considered, not even for a second, that I might actually be gone. To him, I was just a schemer, a conniving woman who would do anything to hold onto him.

Immediately, he dialed my only close friend, Zoe Lovery, his tone sharp and seething.

"Zoe, where’s Grace? Tell her to stop this nonsense and come home, or so help me, I won’t even bother collecting her if she ends up dead in a ditch somewhere."

There was a stunned silence on the other end before Zoe’s voice, thick with rage and fear, burst through the line.

"Caleb, are you insane? I should be asking you where Grace is! She’s been missing for weeks!"

Caleb let out a cold, mocking laugh. "This is just her latest trick, isn’t it? Disappear for a while, make me worry, and then come crawling back, begging for my attention. Pathetic."

Tears blurred my vision as his words sliced through what little remained of my soul.

In that moment, my heart, already long dead, shattered into a thousand unrecognizable pieces.

To Caleb, I’d always been the villain, the cruel, scheming wife who nearly killed his true love.

It all started since the night Emily returned to the country. Our company hosted an extravagant gala, and Caleb didn’t bother hiding his affection for her. He brought her as his date. The two of them glided through the crowd like a golden couple, arms linked, laughing and whispering as if I, his wife, were nothing but an afterthought.

I remembered ducking into a quiet corner, struggling to hold back my tears as guests whispered behind their champagne glasses, eyes flicking between us, hungry for a scandal.

Emily found me there, her eyes brimming with false sympathy as she approached. She offered meaningless small talk, trying to paint herself as the considerate ex. I turned to leave, desperate to escape the humiliation.

That’s when it happened.

I heard a sudden scream, and when I looked back, Emily was tumbling down the staircase, her body twisting violently before crashing onto the marble floor below.

Blood pooled around her head, the vibrant red seeping into the polished white floor. The room fell deathly silent. My mind froze, and my feet were cemented to the spot.

Caleb’s voice shattered the silence as he rushed over, his frantic eyes locking with mine for a fleeting second. I opened my mouth to deny it, to scream that it wasn’t me, but the shock on his face turned to something colder, something I had never seen before—pure, unfiltered hatred.

The headlines the next morning were ruthless: "CEO’s Wife Pushes Mistress Down Stairs—Malicious Attempt at Murder".

Caleb spent a fortune burying the scandal, smothering the flames before they consumed our family’s reputation. However, he never looked at me the same again.

He took me to the hospital, and as I clutched the bouquet he had carefully chosen for her, my mind numb, he led me to her recovery room.

Emily was lying in bed with a ghostly pale expression. She managed a weak smile for Caleb, but the moment she saw me, her eyes filled with a different kind of fear.

"Grace..." she whispered, shrinking back into her pillows, her voice trembling, "I know you hate me... I know you think I stole Caleb from you... but I don’t blame you for pushing me. It’s my fault... I came back..."

I took a step closer, trying to find the words, but she suddenly let out a piercing scream, clutching her sheets as if I were about to strike her down.

"Don’t come near me! Please, Grace, I won’t come between you and Caleb anymore. Just... just don’t hurt me again!"

The room erupted into chaos. One of Emily’s friends, a wealthy heiress, lunged forward, shoving me back. I stumbled, landing hard on the cold tile floor.

"How dare you show your face here?" she spat, her manicured hand pointed accusingly at me. "If you’re truly sorry, then you should be on your knees, begging for her forgiveness."

"Enough," Emily whispered, her voice strained but somehow still managing a small, pitiful smile. "Don’t push her... she didn’t mean it..."

I tried to stand, gripping the edge of a nearby chair, but before I could catch my breath, Caleb’s strong hands clamped down on my shoulders, forcing me back to the floor.

"They’re right," he said, his voice low and icy. "You owe her this. Get down. Apologize."

I twisted beneath his grasp, struggling against the weight of his betrayal. "I didn’t push her! Why won’t you believe me?"

He averted his eyes, his jaw clenched, the grip on my shoulders tightening with every passing second. He said nothing, but his silence spoke volumes.

I didn’t remember much after that. The room spun, the lights blurred, and darkness swallowed me whole.

When I woke up, a doctor delivered the news that would have once filled me with pure, unfiltered joy. I was two months pregnant.

For a while, that tiny heartbeat within me felt like the one good thing left in my shattered world. Perhaps out of guilt or some twisted sense of responsibility, Caleb eased his grip on my life. He stopped dragging me to the hospital to grovel before Emily. He even started coming home earlier, his temper less volatile, his words less cutting.

I clung to the hope that maybe the arrival of our child would bring us back together, and we could finally be the family I had always dreamed of.

However, I should have known better.

When I was six months pregnant, Caleb came home earlier than usual, a rare event in itself. He carried a folder, his face unreadable. He sat beside me on the couch, his arm pulling me into his chest, the warmth of his embrace so painfully familiar that my heart skipped a beat.

"Grace," he murmured, his breath tickling my ear, "you know Emily has kidney failure."

I froze, my body stiffening in his grasp. "Yes... and?"

He tightened his hold on me, his tone dropping to a whisper, almost gentle. "The doctors ran some tests. You’re a perfect match."

My heart turned to ice, the room spinning around me. "Caleb... what are you saying?"

He leaned back, his eyes hardening as he looked down at me. "End the pregnancy. Donate your kidney. You owe her that much. Consider it your penance."

My blood ran cold. I felt the color drain from my face, my limbs going numb.

So that was it. His recent kindness, the fragile peace between us—it had all been a prelude to this.

A prelude to my ultimate betrayal.

To him, my life had always been nothing more than a bargaining chip, a price he was more than willing to pay for the woman he truly loved.

This was his revenge. His final, merciless strike.