Haunting the Billionaire

I killed myself. But when the funeral home handed my husband, Killian, my ashes, he slammed the urn into the floor. It was the only time he smiled that day. "Too filthy.

She deserves to have her ashes scattered to the wind!" Yes, he was convinced I murdered his first love, the girl who would forever remain perfect in his heart.

For his revenge, he faked his devotion. He pushed me until I miscarried in pure despair. He even planned to slaughter my entire family.

The night before he could make his move, I slipped into the bathtub and sliced my wrists open. Chapter 1 After a year of Killian's torment, I was finally dead.

I had seized a moment when he wasn't looking and quietly slit my wrists in the tub.

Blood filled the porcelain, looking exactly like the day I miscarried after discovering the real reason he married me. "Good riddance!" Killian clapped his hands, throwing his head back in laughter, yet his bright eyes turned bloodshot.

He laughed until a single tear escaped and slid down his cheek. I figured he must be thinking of Faye.

Six years ago, she died in a freak car accident, and her heart was now beating in my chest. Killian always believed the crash was premeditated.

He pinned the blame on me for his lover's death. So, he deliberately got close to me, unleashing endless torment after we tied the knot.

He even intended to make my whole family pay with their lives.

He lay in wait for six years, transforming from a penniless street punk into a billionaire who now controlled the lifeblood of Wall Street.

Once he amassed enough power to rival my family, he bared his fangs. He was a rabid dog, sinking his teeth into my bloodline and refusing to let go. But today, it was all over.

Because I died the night before he could strike. Killian's reaction to the news of my death was terrifyingly calm.

He simply ordered Nolan to send my body straight to the funeral home.

The next time he saw me, I was nothing but a handful of ash locked in a small box. "Give me back my sister!" my oldest brother, who had always protected me, roared and lunged forward the second Killian stepped out of the funeral home doors, landing a vicious right hook squarely on his jaw.

Blood instantly spilled from the corner of his mouth, but Killian's bodyguards immediately surged forward, pinning my brother hard against the rough concrete. "Your sister is right here." Killian patted the urn, then planted his shoe firmly on my brother's back. "Too filthy.

She deserves to have her ashes scattered to the wind." With a flick of his wrist, he overturned the palmsized box.

The gray flakes billowed into the air, raining down like dirty snow. I knew Killian hated me. But I never realized his sickness ran this deep.

As I watched my remains drift away, a phantom ache ripped through the center of my chest. I gave him two years of my absolute devotion, and this was my reward.

Killian shifted his expensive leather shoe off my brother, his lips curling into an icecold smirk. "If you love her so much, why doesn't your whole family join her in hell?" Even in death, he wasn't going to let my family go. "You're going to regret this.

You'll regret it!" My brother slumped against the ground, a mess of snot and tears. "I never regret a damn thing." Killian ground the sole of his shoe into my ashes and walked away. "I'm sorry," my brother openly sobbed on the pavement, stripped of all his pride as the eldest son.

I felt my scattered ashes drifting across the landscape. A tiny pinch settled into a stray dog's food bowl and was swallowed whole.

More of me caught in the branches of pine trees or washed into muddy ditches.

And the very last speck clung to the hem of his tailored suit and the ridges of his shoe, hitching a ride back to the place we once shared.

Our marital home was a massive estate halfway up the mountainside.

When we first got married, I thought he picked this secluded, picturesque spot so I could rest and recover my fragile health.

It wasn't until my connection to the outside world slowly withered away into nothingness that I realized the isolation was a feature, not a bug.

I was the pampered youngest daughter. Only by severing my ties to the outside world could his grand scheme succeed. It made his vengeance absolute.

Chapter 2 I drifted behind Killian, following him through the heavy mahogany doors of our estate. We didn't employ any housekeeping staff.

I used to manage this entire place with my own two hands. He paused by the entryway, his hand hovering over the shoe rack for a fraction of a second.

Then, a cold scoff slipped past his lips as he shoved his feet into his slippers. "Evangeline, you really picked a great time to die." I rolled my eyes, stomping uselessly on his shadow as I trailed behind him.

Bastard. Even with me dead, he still couldn't let go of his petty grudge! Killian yanked open the refrigerator, grabbing a bottle of sparkling water.

As he slammed the door shut, his gaze locked onto the pink Postit note plastered right at eye level. "Hubby, I baked your favorite red velvet cupcakes today.

Don't forget to eat them!" The date scribbled at the bottom was December 28th. The night before I killed myself. His jaw tightened.

He snatched the note, crumpled it into a tight ball, and tossed it into the trash can without a second glance at the Tupperware inside.

I had stayed up late piping the cream cheese frosting into perfect little hearts just to coax a smile out of him. He used to devour them. Now, they were just garbage.

I guess pretending to love my baking was just another bullet point on his revenge todo list. After ditching the note, a heavy silence settled over him.

He collapsed onto the living room sofa, his eyes fixed on the crystal butterfly chandelier suspended from the vaulted ceiling.

If his vision extended into the supernatural, he would have noticed me perched right on the edge of its glittering wing, staring down at him.

We picked it out together before the wedding. I was instantly drawn to it. Miraculously, he couldn't take his eyes off it either.

I remember being so incredibly thrilled that we finally shared the same taste in home decor. Little did I know, Butterfly was his pet name for his dead first love, Faye.

I brought her up once, a few months into our marriage, fueled by a sudden spike of insecurity.

We were lounging on this exact sofa, my head resting comfortably in the crook of his arm. "My first love turned into a butterfly and flew away," he stared blankly at the ceiling, his voice dropping to a whisper.

A knot formed in my throat, igniting an overwhelming urge to fix his broken pieces.

I pressed soft kisses to his eyelids, whispering desperately into the quiet room. "Let me be your butterfly. Please? My parents always say I'm the human sunshine of our family.

I promise I can make you happy again!" He didn't say a single word. He just pulled me flush against his body, trembling.

He buried his face in my chest, listening intently to the steady rhythm of my heartbeat.

His fingers dug so deeply into my arms that it left bruises, but I swallowed the pain and let him hold on. Because I was so incredibly naive.

I mistook his suppressed, violent hatred for overwhelming gratitude. Falling in love really does blind you to all the massive, flashing red flags.

I guess I had it coming when he finally tore my life apart. After an hour of staring into space, Killian finally pushed himself off the couch.

I had zero interest in shadowing his every move, but some invisible tether forced me to stay within a threefoot radius of him at all times.

So there I was, hovering outside the master bathroom, listening to the shower turn on.

A minute later, a deafening crash echoed from inside—glass bottles and expensive colognes shattering against the tiles. A cold chill ran down my nonexistent spine.

I phased straight through the solid oak door. Killian was frozen in the center of the room, his eyes blown wide and bloodshot.

Staring at the horrific amount of dried, rusted scarlet coating the porcelain tub and white tiles, the mask finally slipped.

His features twisted into something ugly and unrecognizable. My suicide had been a messy, unscripted impulse.

With no staff around, I would have rotted in that tub if Nolan hadn't swung back to the house to retrieve some missing files. He wouldn't have discovered my body so fast.

It had barely been a full day since I slit my wrists to the moment I was reduced to ash.

In the chaotic rush to dispose of my body, everyone neglected to hire a trauma cleaning crew.

So, the master bathroom Killian just walked into looked exactly like a gruesome, bloodsoaked slaughterhouse. "Evangeline!" he punched the wall, screaming my name into the empty air with such raw, explosive volume it nearly blew my soul straight into the afterlife a second time.

Chapter 3 "What are you yelling for…" I muttered from the sidelines. After my body went limp, I just slipped into the tub. The rest of the bathroom wasn't even that messy.

Couldn't he just clean it up himself? But obviously, Killian couldn't hear my complaining, and he had zero intention of grabbing a mop.

He viciously kicked over the laundry hamper by the sink. His fingers trembled as he dialed Nolan's number, his voice grating like sandpaper. "Find me a new property immediately.

I'm moving out tomorrow!" The moment the order left his mouth, he hurled his phone against the wall. The screen shattered into a million pieces.

I had never seen Killian this unhinged. That was close. I patted my nonexistent heartbeat, trying to force myself to calm down.

Once Killian stormed out, I crouched by the tub in an act of pure masochism, swiping my hand through the bloody water. This was the second time I had seen a scene like this.

The first was the day I accidentally discovered he only married me to ruin my life. I was in such a daze that I slipped and crashed hard into the edge of this very tub.

Blood pooled everywhere. The tiny life I had just found out about was brutally snuffed out before it even had a chance. The second time was when I ended it all.

I lost consciousness pretty quickly, just letting the blood drain out.

I never expected to stick around and witness the gruesome aftermath with my own two eyes. "Oh, Killian… If you ever find out I had nothing to do with her death, will you regret this?" I stared at his retreating back.

We spent an excruciatingly suffocating night in that house. He woke up at the crack of dawn, changed his clothes, and hiked straight up the back of the mountain.

I heard him bark orders at Nolan over a new phone, demanding he clear out the entire estate. He didn't want to see a single trace of my existence.

But honestly, I didn't buy for a second that Killian would actually move out.

Because Faye—his first love who turned into a butterfly and flew away—was buried right there, on the mountain behind our property. "Faye.

She's dead." Killian crouched in front of the grave, his fingers gently tracing the cold granite. A photo was embedded in the headstone.

A sweetlooking girl with a radiant, carefree smile stared back at him. It was a tragedy her life was permanently frozen at twenty. "I finally avenged you," he murmured obsessively.

He stayed there, zoning out for a long time. I didn't know why, but Killian spaced out constantly now. It was like he had been hollowed out, his soul completely drained.

Of course, I didn't flatter myself into thinking it had anything to do with me. I figured it was just the empty crash that comes after finally getting your ultimate revenge.

For the past few years, he had been surviving purely on his hatred for me. Now that I was dead, it made sense he was a little numb.

Killian didn't leave the mountain until the sun crested the horizon. When he hiked back down, he didn't even step foot inside the house.

He headed straight for the garage, fired up a car, and sped off.

When I saw us pull up to a rundown, dilapidated apartment complex on the outskirts of the city, I immediately knew what he was up to.

Relying on his old memories, he knocked on the door of Faye's family apartment. Unfortunately, no one answered. Killian tried a few more times.

When there was still zero response, his patience snapped, and he pounded his fist heavily against the cheap wood.

The racket finally drew out a neighbor. "What the hell are you…" the neighbor's voice choked off. She stared in disbelief at the guy who used to be a dirtpoor teenager.

He was radiating the untouchable aura of an elite billionaire now.

The woman swallowed her curse words right back down. "Where is the family that lived here?" Killian demanded, his tone freezing. "Them?" The middleaged neighbor blew out a ring of cigarette smoke, her eyes dripping with pure contempt. "They took the dirty money they got from selling their daughter's heart and moved out to the wealthy suburbs to live it up a long time ago." Chapter 4 Killian's brow furrowed, a muscle feathering in his jaw as if he were physically repulsed by her crassness. "Where did they go?" "How the hell should I know?

Why are you interrogating me? Who even are you?" The neighbor eyed him up and down, clearly annoyed. "I'm… their daughter's boyfriend." "Oh!

So you're the boyfriend Earl played for a total fool?" The woman's eyes lit up with malicious gossip. "Poor little Faye drew the shortest straw with that family.

Traded away for cold hard cash by her own twisted parents." A phantom jolt shocked my system. I immediately snapped my gaze to Killian's face.

Chapter 4 The veins in Killian's neck bulged against his collar.

His chest heaved before he finally ground out a single, jagged word. "Traded?" The drive back was a blur of reckless speed.

Killian gunned the engine, weaving through traffic with a terrifying, deathwish intensity. His profile was carved from pure ice.

I always knew, deep in my bones, that I had nothing to do with his first love's death.

But sitting in that passenger seat, I realized I had absolutely no idea how deep this sick conspiracy actually ran.

Killian kept his foot on the gas all the way, finally slamming the brakes right in front of my family's estate. The oncegrand property looked utterly desolate.

As Killian strode up the driveway, there wasn't a single housekeeper or groundskeeper in sight. "Killian!

You son of a bitch!" my brother launched himself off the porch, twisting his fists into Killian's expensive lapels and driving a brutal hook into his face. "Back the fuck off!" Killian shoved him away, his eyes wild and unhinged. "I'm not here to brawl with you today.

Tell me exactly where Evangeline got her heart!" "Where did it come from?

From your dead girlfriend, obviously!" my brother let out a manic, broken laugh, throwing every last shred of restraint out the window. He lunged again, fists flying.

Two grown men, both seeing red, tackled each other into the manicured lawn, exchanging brutal blows.

I hovered on the sidelines, completely helpless—a ghost unable to scream sense into them or rip them apart. "Enough!" the booming voice cracked through the chaotic front yard like a whip.

A phantom lump instantly swelled in my throat. My father stood on the front steps.

He had aged a decade in a matter of days, the exhaustion practically radiating off his slumping shoulders.

He marched down the steps, gripping my old surgical release forms and another thick medical document I didn't recognize.

He hurled the stack directly into Killian's chest. "Evangeline's heart was secured through 100 percent legal, official donor channels.

After the transplant, I wired her family a tenmilliondollar compensation check out of pure gratitude. Every single signature and notary stamp is right there in the dirt.

You got any other questions?" "No… that's impossible." Killian scrambled to gather the scattered pages, his hands trembling uncontrollably.

All the blood drained from his face as his eyes frantically scanned the legal jargon. I hovered anxiously by his shoulder, completely blindsided by this massive plot twist.

Being officially vindicated felt good, sure. But looking at the crushing truth laid out on paper, a bitter laugh bubbled up inside me.

Who was going to refund me for a year of pure, unadulterated hell? "I don't believe it… I don't believe it." Killian's sanity fractured.

He collapsed onto his knees in the dirt, clutching the papers like a lifeline, repeating the denial over and over in a hollow, mechanical loop.

The sharp, piercing shrill of his ringtone shattered the heavy silence. "Sir… we… we found Evangeline's ultrasound report." Nolan's voice trembled through the cracked speaker.

I was the only person on earth who knew about that pregnancy, aside from my OBGYN.

It was right before the masks slipped, back when I was still a stagefive clinger, hopelessly and blindly in love with my husband