Chapter 1The Wife Who Haunted Her Husband

When my childhood sweetheart pushed me off the villa balcony, my husband was on the phone, calling her "baby" in that adoring tone he used to save for me.

I should have died. Instead, I ended up half-paralyzed.

Unsatisfied, she hired men to assault me, and then, broken and bleeding, I was buried alive in the villa's backyard.

Three years after my death, she was diagnosed with kidney failure. That’s when my husband finally remembered me.

He brought a team of bodyguards to the private villa to drag me back. When they couldn't find me, he assumed I was hiding.

"As long as you agree to donate a kidney to Ruby, I'll end your punishment. You can come home."

In the end, he dug three feet into the earth, only to find my bleached bones.

* * *

Carter burst into the private villa with his security team, a permanent scowl etched on his face.

This place was managed by his people, but no one was allowed near the main house. It was a prison for me, his "wayward" wife.

But I had been dead for three years. No one had lived here since.

Weeds choked the walkway, waist-high.

Carter wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Nora is so lazy. Look at this place. She couldn't even be bothered to pull a few weeds."

"Compared to Ruby, she’s trash."

He pulled a silk handkerchief from his pocket and covered his nose and mouth, shielding himself from a smell only he could detect.

"Nora! You addicted to living alone? Get your ass out here!"

He stood there, high and mighty, his eyes full of disdain. As if his presence here was some great favor he was bestowing upon me.

He shouted my name several times. Silence.

Carter’s patience snapped.

"Break the door down," he ordered his men coldly.

With a crash, the guards kicked the door in and rushed inside to grab me.

Five minutes later, they came back out, looking confused.

"Mr. Sterling, your wife isn't inside."

Carter’s brow furrowed deeper. He didn’t believe it. He went in himself, tore through the house, and found nothing. He pulled out his phone to call me.

It had been three years since we last spoke. He frowned, scrolling through his contacts, trying to remember my number.

Finally, he tapped on a contact labeled "Bitch" and hit dial.

Floating beside him, I couldn't help but laugh bitterly.

Carter hated me that much.

Three years ago, his childhood sweetheart, Ruby, had a miscarriage and blamed it on me. Carter branded me a vicious woman and locked me away in this desolate villa to "reflect."