Chapter 3I Can See His Dead Wife

And now, I was regretting it. Deeply.

I clung to Donovan Blackwood's leg. "Mr. Blackwood, the truth is… your wife has been visiting me in my dreams."

It was better than saying I could see ghosts. Both were insane, but the dream angle was slightly more palatable.

Donovan froze, his gaze dropping to the top of my head as he processed my words. Just as I was about to breathe a sigh of relief, his hand shot out and clamped around my throat.

"You're a liar," he rasped, his voice raw. "If she could visit someone's dreams, why wouldn't she come to mine?"

His grip was crushing. Air refused to enter my lungs. My face flushed, dark spots dancing in my vision.

Eleanor shrieked, zipping around us in a panic. "What do I do? Donovan was never like this!"

I clawed at his hand, forcing the words out one by one.

"Because… she's… still… angry… with… you."

Donovan's pupils contracted. His hand went slack.

He stared at me, either not hearing me or not believing what he heard. "What did you say?"

I collapsed to the floor, coughing violently until I could breathe again. I looked up at him, my voice hoarse, and repeated, "Because she's still angry with you."

"You know exactly how she died, don't you? You had a fight. She stormed out to get away from you, and she walked right into the path of that car."

"If you had just let her win that one argument, she might still be alive."

"Mr. Blackwood, your wife blames you. That's why she won't come to you in your dreams."

The cold, hard mask on Donovan's face cracked. His expression shifted into a complex storm of doubt, regret, and soul-crushing guilt. The veins on the hand holding the gun bulged, his breathing ragged.

I was terrified. I scooted back, praying he wouldn't accidentally pull the trigger.

He stood there like a statue for several minutes before his entire body seemed to deflate. The rigid posture that defined him slumped. He scrubbed a hand over his face.

"I deserve this," he muttered to himself.

Then, looking like a ghost himself, he turned and left the room.

I heard the housekeeper ask, "Sir, what should we do with the young lady?"

"Find a guest room. Let her stay."

"Very good, sir."