Chapter 3Loving My Living Ghost

Of course, I remember.

After I died in that garage, my spirit lingered for a while, floating above my cold body. I saw her break down. I saw the untouchable, ruthless Cassandra Wilder collapse on the concrete beside my corpse, weeping until she couldn't breathe.

I heard her desperate, empty confessions.

But so what?

Late affection is cheaper than dirt.

I firmly push her off me, my voice devoid of warmth. "I can't afford your love, Cassie. And I don't want it."

Without waiting for her to wipe her tears, I turn and walk back into the bright, noisy ballroom.

The moment I step inside, Jared is waiting for me.

He must have been stewing in his own frustration. Seeing me alone, he corners me, his voice a quiet, venomous hiss.

"You think changing a few paper slips makes you a saint, Dylan? You and your mother are nothing but parasites. She sold her body to Charles Wilder to get you a seat at this table. Don't act like your hands are clean."

That is the line he shouldn't have crossed.

I can tolerate people dragging my name through the mud, but I will never let anyone insult my mother.

My fist connects with his jaw before he can finish the sentence.

"Keep her name out of your filthy mouth," I spit.

Jared stumbles back, clutching his face, his eyes instantly welling with theatrical tears as he prepares to play the victim.

The guests gasp, crowding around us to watch the drama unfold.

Everyone expects Cassie to step in, to scold me for being violent and unhinged, just like she always did.

But instead, a slender figure steps in front of me, shielding me from the crowd.

Cassie glares at Jared, her voice sharp enough to draw blood.

"If you can't control your tongue, you deserve to be taught a lesson."

The room falls into a stunned silence.

Before anyone can process her defense of me, Cassie raises her chin, her voice echoing clearly across the ballroom.

"I would like to make an announcement. Effective immediately, my engagement to Jared Westbrook is off."

The room explodes.

The Wilder-Westbrook alliance was a massive corporate merger masquerading as a marriage. It was a done deal, tying billions of dollars together.

Jared turns pale, staring at her in sheer disbelief as tears stream down his face. "Cassie! Do you have any idea what you're saying?!"

"Enough!"

An authoritative, booming voice cuts through the chaos from the top of the stairs.

Thomas Wilder, my step-grandfather, stands there, leaning heavily on his gold-headed cane. His presence instantly suffocates the room.

He glares down at Cassie. "A child's temper tantrum is nothing to take seriously. The alliance stands. No one speaks of canceling the engagement again."

He waves his hand dismissively to the security detail. "Take her upstairs. She is confined to her quarters until she reflects on her behavior."

The guards step forward, ignoring Cassie's stiff resistance, and lead her away.

Before she disappears, she throws one last, desperate look at me, her eyes burning with stubborn possessiveness.

After the party, I return to the family estate.

Unsurprisingly, the patriarch orders me confined as well—no leaving the grounds, no outside contact.

I accept it without a fight.

A few days later, Helen, my mother, slips into my room late at night. She sits on the edge of my bed, her eyes searching mine with a mix of guilt and hesitation.

"Dylan... would you like to go study in London?"

I look at her, my mind clear. This isn't a question; it's an ultimatum from Thomas Wilder.

He wants me gone. He wants to eliminate the variable, separate me from Cassie, and force the Westbrook alliance back on track.

I nod slowly. "Sure. I'll go."

In the days leading up to my departure, Cassie tries everything to reach me.

Her actions are frantic, borderline obsessive. She floods me with quiet, desperate gestures of affection, trying to undo a lifetime of neglect. It's as if she wants to lay the world at my feet to make up for the past.

But my heart remains a block of ice.

The day of my flight is bright and cloudless.

It is also the day of Cassie and Jared's rescheduled wedding.

On one side of the city, the cathedral doors are open, the red carpet rolled out, guests arriving for a grand ceremony.

On the other side, I sit in the back of a black town car, quietly heading toward the airport, chasing a new life.

The silence in the car is heavy, almost suffocating.

Just as the car climbs onto the suspension bridge overlooking the bay, the driver, who hasn't spoken a word the entire trip, says quietly:

"I'm sorry, Mr. Wilder."