Chapter 1

After my ex-boyfriend was recognized by a wealthy family and established himself in high society, his first act was to come back and seek revenge on me.

All because I broke up with him the year he was diagnosed with leukemia.

What he doesn't know is that the anonymous donor who gave him bone marrow was me.

And while he's frantically searching for information about me to exact his revenge, I've been dead for three years.

Zachary Thompson sat with one leg crossed over the other, one hand propping up his head, the other tapping lightly on the table.

"Mrs. White, how have you been lately?" he asked, his voice polite but his expression cold.

My heart raced. Zachary was going to cause trouble for my mom.

"I'm doing fine, Zachary. How about you... how are you doing?" My mom sat across from him, looking nervously at the men in black suits standing behind him.

"Oh, I'm doing great. Ever since your gold-digger daughter left me, everything's been smooth sailing. Look, I brought you a little something," Zachary said, his face dark. He then smirked and gestured for one of his men to bring out a stack of cash.

"Zachary, what's the meaning of this?" My mom looked at him, bewildered.

"Isn't this why Lily broke up with me back then? Because I had no money?" Zachary laughed cruelly. "If she comes out now and gets on her knees to apologize, all this can be yours."

He grabbed the stacks of money and started throwing them at my mom's head.

I watched as my mom trembled with anger, pointing at Zachary's nose, unable to speak.

"What's wrong, Mrs. White? Surprised? I'm still alive, and now I'm the heir to the Thompson fortune."

I was furious at the scene before me. I rushed forward to slap Zachary, but my hand passed right through his body.

Zachary remained seated, showing no reaction, as if he couldn't sense my presence at all.

I stared at my hand in disbelief, suddenly remembering that I had been dead for three years.

"Lily... she can't see you right now. You should leave," my mom said, her voice breaking as tears welled up in her eyes.

I floated nearby, helpless, wanting to tell my mom not to cry, but unable to do so.

"Can't see me? Is she doing something she's ashamed of?" Zachary sneered. "Let me guess. Is she someone's mistress? Or maybe she's working at a nightclub, entertaining rich men?"

Zachary lit a cigarette, his laughter growing louder, each chuckle like a thorn piercing my heart.

"Enough! Lily isn't like that!" My mom cried out, tears rolling down her cheeks as she tried to stop Zachary from continuing.

"Isn't like what? Am I wrong? Didn't she leave me because I was poor and sick?" Zachary's smile vanished. He swept the teacup off the table with his hand, sending glass shards and hot tea flying onto my mom.

My mom's arm was cut, blood seeping from the wounds.

She sat frozen in her seat, ignoring the blood on her arm. Her mouth opened and closed, as if wanting to say something but swallowing it back.

My spirit felt as if it had been scalded by the tea, anxiously floating around.

Damn it!

Why am I just a spirit?

Why can't I wipe away my mom's tears?

Why can't I slap Zachary's mouth for her?

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Mrs. White. I accidentally knocked over the tea you just poured," Zachary said, putting out his cigarette. He took a handkerchief from his assistant and leisurely wiped his hands.

"Consider this money as compensation for my clumsiness."

"Oh, and remember to tell Lily, if she refuses to see me, I can't guarantee I won't do something... unpleasant."

Zachary flashed another wicked smile, glanced at my trembling mom, and left with his entourage of men in black.

My mom shakily stood up and walked to my room. The room was still arranged the same as it had been three years ago.

She picked up a photo from the bedside table, her fingers gently caressing it as if trying to touch the person in the picture through the glass.

"Lily... Mom knows that Zachary has been holding a grudge all these years, but hearing him talk about you like that..."

"It breaks Mom's heart..."

My tears fell uncontrollably, my chest feeling as if it were being squeezed by a giant hand, making it hard to breathe.

I had been gone for three years, and every time someone mentioned my name, my mom would tear up and fall silent.

Time hadn't dulled her grief. She still watered the gardenia in front of the house every day and regularly cleaned my room.