Chapter 4I Can See His Dead Wife

Lying on the impossibly soft bed in the guest room, I was still trembling from my near-death experience.

Eleanor, however, was muttering beside me. "But I don't blame him. He looks so sad. It makes me sad, too."

I shot up, exasperated. "Lady, if I hadn't said that, I'd be dead right now!"

"I know, I know, I'm not blaming you. It's just… it makes me sad."

"..."

Right. I reminded myself that the longer a ghost sticks around, the fuzzier their thinking gets. I could forgive her for being a little scrambled.

I ignored her and tried to sleep, but the fear was still thrumming through me. After a while, I saw her, a lonely, translucent figure perched on the windowsill. I felt a pang of pity.

"Hey," I said, breaking the silence. "You never told me. What were you and Donovan fighting about that night?"

Eleanor paused, her form drooping with sadness.

"It was because…"

BANG!

A loud crash echoed from downstairs. The sound of the front door being slammed open.

It was followed by a raw, teenage voice, spitting the foulest words.

"Donovan Blackwood! You bring another woman into this house? How dare you! Do you have any respect for my mother?!"

"Come out! Or are you too much of a coward?"

"Donovan! You gutless bastard!"

Ah. The little demon of the Blackwood family was home.

Eleanor had told me that when she died, her son was only seven. Now, ten years later, he was seventeen and in the throes of a brutal rebellious phase. It was common knowledge throughout New York that the Blackwood father and son were at war.

As I was processing this, a frantic pounding of feet charged up the stairs. It stopped right outside my door, followed by a series of violent kicks.

"Is the woman in here? Get the hell out!"

The housekeeper's voice was strained. "Young master, please! The person inside is a guest."

"Guest, my ass! She's the little bitch Donovan brought home."

Hey! Who is he calling a little bitch?

That did it. I shot out of bed, marched to the door, and yanked it open. I glared at the boy in front of me.

"What do you want?"

We stared at each other for a few seconds, and it struck me how much he looked like his father. The same nose, the same mouth, practically stamped from the same mold. But his eyes were Eleanor's, softer and warmer around the edges. Not that his handsome face excused his rotten behavior.

Liam Blackwood gave me a dismissive, head-to-toe scan. He sneered. "Someone like you thinks you can set foot in my house? Get lost."

I was so angry my organs started to ache.

Eleanor floated over. "Oh, my baby boy is so big now," she cooed. "Isn't he just the cutest?"

I rolled my eyes. Before I could think a sarcastic thought, I heard her next whisper.

"Sweetie, slap him."

I froze for a second, then a grin spread across my face.

My hand flew up and connected squarely with Liam’s handsome cheek.

SMACK.

His head snapped to the side. He was completely stunned. Then, his eyes widened in disbelief as he turned back to me. "You… you hit me?!"

The housekeeper looked horrified. "Miss Sloane, you may be a guest, but striking the young master is highly inappropriate!"

"You fucking hit me!" Liam exploded, lunging at me like a wild animal, his face contorted with rage as if he wanted to tear me apart.

The housekeeper, fearing it would get worse, threw his arms around Liam's waist. "Young master, please calm down!"

I stumbled back a few steps.

I looked at Eleanor and whispered, "Okay, now what?"

Eleanor blinked. "Huh?"

I scowled. "After the slap, what was the plan? You didn't think that far ahead, did you?"

The ghost just stared at me with a blank expression.

I almost fainted. I’d been tricked again.

The commotion was loud enough to finally draw Donovan out.

"What is going on here?"

The moment his voice cut through the air, Liam stopped struggling. He shrugged off the housekeeper, his eyes red as he turned to face his father. Well, his eyes were red, and so was half of his face.

Donovan saw the red handprint and his expression darkened instantly.

Liam’s voice was laced with hatred. "You're a real piece of work, Donovan. Mom's death anniversary is in two days, and you pick now to bring this woman home and let her hit me… Aren't you afraid of my mother watching you from the great beyond?"

Donovan's gaze shot to me like a dagger.

"You hit him?"

"Who gave you the nerve?!"

Liam scoffed. "Why are you pretending? As if she would have dared to touch me without your permission."

All three of them—the father, the son, and the housekeeper—were now staring at me.

I blinked a few times, then dramatically crumpled to the floor.

"Oh, what happened? I think… I think I was dreaming. Wasn't I just sleeping? Why am I on the floor?"

I looked around in feigned confusion. "Why are you all here? And you, handsome, what happened to your face? It's all red."

Liam looked at me with disgust. "What the hell are you playing at?"

I shook my head, looking lost, then my eyes lit up. I scrambled to my feet and rushed to Donovan's side.

"Mr. Blackwood, I dreamed about your wife again."

Donovan's eyes were cold. It was clear he didn't believe me anymore.

I swallowed hard and kept bluffing. "It's true."

I pointed to the windowsill. "In the dream, she was leaning on the sill, looking at the flowers. She said the climbing rose in the yard was a gift for the young master, that she planted it herself for his fifth birthday."

"She looked so sad. She said her son was going down the wrong path, and she wished she could do something to guide him. She even asked if she could… borrow my body for a little while. It scared me so much that I woke up."

"Master Liam, did I really hit you? Oh my God, I'm so sorry, I think I was possessed…"

As the words tumbled out, the three men in front of me froze.

Donovan instinctively looked at the housekeeper.

The housekeeper immediately said, "Sir, I never said a word about the rose bush."

But Liam was the one who became agitated, focusing on the wrong detail. "What are you talking about? How do you know about the roses? Who told you?!" He paused, his gaze snapping to his father. "You told her? What right do you have to talk about my mother?"

"Donovan, my mother must have been blind to ever fall in love with you!"

SMACK.

Now his right cheek was red, too.

His father had hit him.

The atmosphere turned to ice. Even Eleanor stopped drifting and stared blankly at her son.

Liam touched his face, a twisted, humorless smile spreading across his lips. The look he gave his father was terrifying. He seemed completely unhinged.

He shoved the housekeeper aside and stormed downstairs.

"Sir, it's raining outside! The young master is furious. If he goes out like this, something could happen!"

"You go find him!"

The housekeeper hesitated. "Sir, if you don't go, I'm afraid we won't be able to bring him back. You know his temper. What if he gets hurt…?"

Donovan closed his eyes, his chest heaving. Before he left with the housekeeper, he gave me one last, unreadable look.

I immediately bowed my head. "I'll be good and stay right here. Don't you worry, Mr. Blackwood."