It all started because I walked in on them. Mike Connolly—the city's most powerful CEO—and Isabella Thorne, his first love, fucking wildly in a stairwell. The next day, she stood before him with red-rimmed eyes, accusing me of spreading vicious rumors about her, claiming she'd nearly slit her wrists from the shame. But in that critical moment, Mike stood firmly by my side. He even weathered the storm of public opinion to give me the wedding of my dreams. On our wedding night, however, he had me bound and taken to international waters, where he auctioned off my virginity to the highest bidder. I was tortured to death, my body posed in grotesque positions and filmed for a series of naked videos. Isabella then used an AI deepfake to plaster her own face over mine in the footage, weeping to Mike that I had thrown her to a pack of wolves. Fury coiled in his gut, Mike came looking for me, only to find my sister, Renee, cleaning up the makeshift memorial in our family home. His face was a mask of ice. "Where is Emily Monroe? Tell her to get her ass out here." Renee gave a numb, cold laugh. "My sister's already in the ground, Mike. Are you planning on joining her?" 1 The words had barely left her lips when Mike's hand cracked across her face, his rage boiling over. "Renee Monroe, you're a loyal dog to the very end. You'd even say your sister is dead just to protect her." He snarled, his voice a low growl. "I'm telling you, if Emily doesn't get out here and apologize to Isabella this instant, I don't care if she is dead. I will personally dig up her corpse and grind her bones to dust." His tone was venomous, as if he longed to devour my flesh and drink my blood. My sister smiled, a desolate and mocking expression. "Then you're doomed to disappointment, brother-in-law. You will never see my sister again in this lifetime." Mike's face turned ashen. He lunged forward, his fingers wrapping around Renee's throat as he hissed, demanding to know where I was. She said nothing, just stared at him, her gaze slowly tracing the lines of his face, her swollen cheek a canvas of pure contempt. Seeing her defiance, Mike let out a cold chuckle and released her. "Fine. You won't talk. Since you're so determined to shield Emily, don't blame me for what comes next." With a sharp wave of his hand, a flood of black-suited bodyguards poured into the house, their presence instantly shrinking the spacious living room. Mike's gaze swept disdainfully across the scene—the floor littered with white flowers, memorial cards, and the ash from burnt candles. In the center of the room, a large memorial portrait of me still hung on the wall. "Trash it," he commanded. A symphony of destruction erupted. Glass shattering, wood splintering. Renee’s face went white with horror. "No!" she screamed, her voice tearing from her throat. Her eyes, blazing with grief, fixed on Mike. "Mike, she was just buried! How can you desecrate her memorial? Wasn't killing her enough for you? Do you have to torment her even in death?" A cruel smirk played on Mike's lips. "I told you. I want her to come out and apologize to Isabella. If she won't, this is the only way." He checked his watch. "I'll give you three minutes, Renee. If Emily isn't here in three minutes, breaking things will be the least of your worries." Renee stared at him, disbelief warring with horror on her face, her chest heaving. She threw herself at the bodyguards, a moth trying to stop a hurricane, forced to watch as they ripped our living room to shreds. CRASH. The sound of the family portrait hitting the floor echoed off the walls. She froze, her eyes fixed on the shattered glass. Tears streamed down her face as she stumbled forward and dropped to her knees, desperately trying to shield the broken frame. Shards of glass bit into her palms, but she didn't seem to notice the pain. Mike glanced impatiently at his Rolex. Three minutes were up. His patience had run out. "Find her," he ordered, his voice devoid of warmth. "I want her alive, or I want her body. Tear this house apart if you have to, but bring Emily Monroe to me." His men scattered, beginning their ruthless search. "No!" Renee cried, her voice raw with desperation. "Mike, please, my parents are resting upstairs! You can't do this! Tell them to stop! My sister is really dead! She's been buried!" She scrambled to her feet, grabbing his pant leg. "My parents were devastated by her death. They can't take any more of this. Mike… brother-in-law… I'm begging you. For the love of God, have mercy. Stop them." She knelt before him, pleading, but her words fell on deaf ears. "I told you," he said coldly, "I only want Emily. My patience is wearing thin. If she doesn't show herself, I can't guarantee what I might do." He then raised his voice, letting it carry through the house. "Emily Monroe, I know you're in here! Listen to me! If you come out and apologize to Isabella like a good girl, I might let you continue being Mrs. Connolly. But if you insist on being stubborn… you know what I'm capable of." Yes, I was there. But only as a wisp of a soul. Mike didn't know. I had died a month ago, at that godforsaken auction. And as for being Mrs. Connolly? Even if I were alive, I wouldn't want it anymore. 2 The bodyguards tore through the house, their search fruitless. They didn't find me, but they did wake my parents. They stumbled down the stairs, their eyes widening at the wreckage. My father, his face contorted with rage, swung a fist at Mike. "Mike! Wasn't it enough that you killed my daughter? Now you dare to come here and cause this scene? You heartless bastard, why don't you just die?" Before the punch could land, Mike caught his wrist, twisting it with brutal efficiency. A sickening crack echoed through the room, and my father’s face went pale. Mike shoved him away with cold indifference. "You old fool. You're the heartless one, cursing your own daughter." My father crumpled to the floor, his arm bent at an unnatural angle. My mother screamed in terror and launched herself at Mike, a wild animal protecting her young, only to be kicked to the ground. My own non-existent heart seized. I rushed to help her, but my hands passed straight through her body. Renee's broken sobs filled the air. "Mike, my father nearly died helping your family years ago! How can you repay his kindness with such cruelty?" For a moment, Mike froze. Years ago, the Connolly family had been targeted by rivals, pushed to the brink of bankruptcy. My father, to help them through the crisis, had poured most of our company's capital into the Connolly Corporation. In doing so, he became a target himself, narrowly escaping several staged car accidents. It was only after the Connollys regained their power that the threat to my father subsided. A flicker of guilt crossed Mike's face. He took a half-step forward, but just then, a figure rushed in from outside. "Mike, did you find Emily?" Isabella Thorne cried, her face pale and tear-streaked. "That video… it's gone viral. People are harassing me, calling me… I'm so scared." Mike's expression softened instantly, all thoughts of guilt vanishing as he pulled her into a protective embrace. His face hardened once more. "I'm giving you one last chance," he growled at my family. "Tell me where Emily is." Renee just wept, her voice hollow. "I told you, she's been buried. You just won't believe me." Mike scoffed. "I only auctioned off her first time. Is she really so fragile that one night with a man would kill her?" He sneered. "Since you all insist on bringing this suffering upon yourselves, why should I hold back?" A bitter laugh escaped my spectral form. Just her first time. He had no idea what I had endured that night. He had his men bring in several vicious attack dogs and then forced my parents and Renee into separate iron cages. I stared in horror, my ghostly heart pounding. The dogs snarled, their eyes glowing with feral hunger as they circled the cages. No! I shook my head, screaming until my soul felt raw. But no one could hear me. I could only watch as the dogs crept closer and closer to the cages. Renee’s face was as white as a sheet. She gripped the iron bars, her voice a shredded scream. "Mike, you're insane! Don't hurt my parents! I'm begging you, please! My sister is dead! I'm not lying to you! I swear I'm not!" "She's buried in Evergreen Memorial Park!" she shrieked. "Go and see for yourself! You'll know I'm telling the truth! Just go!" Ignoring her pleas, a bodyguard opened my father's cage. The dogs, starved and frenzied, lunged. A chorus of horrific screams and growls filled the living room. One of the dogs tore a chunk of flesh from my father's thigh. Blood gushed from the wound, and his agonized cries pierced the air, an assault on everyone's eardrums. My mother's pupils constricted. She clapped her hands over her ears, shrieking in terror, curling into a tight ball against the bars of her cage, muttering over and over. "She's dead… she's dead… she's dead…" Suddenly, she scrambled to the edge of the cage and screamed at Mike, her voice cracking with madness. "She's dead! DEAD! You killed my daughter!" Mike's dark eyes narrowed, his gaze locking onto my mother with pure fury. A moment later, a chilling, mirthless smile spread across his face. "Emily once told me that liars have to swallow a thousand needles," he said, his voice deceptively calm. "Since the whole Monroe family seems to love lying, I'll teach you all a lesson today." So he remembered. He still remembered our past. Back when we were in love, he’d been hospitalized for two weeks and had hidden it from me. When I found out, I was furious. I’d threatened him, half-joking, that if he ever lied to me again, I’d make him swallow a thousand needles. He’d pretended to be terrified, swearing he would never deceive me again. I never imagined those careless words would come back to haunt my family. 3 The long, silver needles glinted under the lights. I surged forward, trying to snatch them from the bodyguard's hand, but my form passed right through him. One guard grabbed my mother's hair, while another dislocated her jaw. I screamed in helpless rage, forced to watch as they shoved needle after needle down her throat. Blood bubbled from her lips. Guttural, choking sounds were the only noises she could make, her face a mask of unimaginable agony. My heart felt like it was being torn apart. I regretted ever meeting Mike Connolly, ever falling in love with him. I threw myself at him, punching and kicking his form, screaming his name, trying to snap him out of his madness. A sudden, unnatural chill swept over him. Mike frowned, instinctively reaching out a hand, but he grasped nothing but air. He looked at the gruesome scene before him, and for the first time, a flicker of unease stirred in his gut. He called for them to stop. The dogs were led away. My father lay in a heap on the floor, barely breathing, his body a canvas of blood and torn flesh. In some places, bone was visible. My mother’s mouth was a gaping, bloody wound, her eyes crimson, her face smeared with gore. Mike watched it all, his expression unreadable. "Even now," he asked coldly, "you're still protecting Emily?" "She did a disgusting thing, and all I'm asking for is an apology. I don't want her life. Is it really worth all this? Tell me, where is she?" Renee, her face a deathly gray, just repeated the same numb words. That I was dead. That I was buried in Evergreen Memorial Park. Her words ignited Mike’s fury once again. "Renee Monroe, you'd rather watch your parents die than give up that bitch, wouldn't you?" he spat. "Fine. Truly fine. You Monroe women… you're all venomous snakes." Isabella, hiding behind Mike, flashed a triumphant smirk before wrapping her arms around him, her voice dripping with feigned concern. "Mike, I just wanted Emily to clear things up. It's not Uncle and Auntie's fault, and it's certainly not Renee's." She sighed dramatically. "It's my fault. I never should have come back and disrupted your life with Emily." "Since she won't help me, then let it be. The video has been shared millions of times anyway. If I can't live here, I'll just go abroad. I'll leave and never come back." She dabbed at her eyes, and as she moved her hand, fresh scars on her wrist came into view. Mike’s pupils contracted. He seized her wrist. "You did it again? Isabella, I told you, don't punish yourself for other people's mistakes! Why won't you listen?" "If you really died," he said, his voice tight with emotion, "what would I do? I can't bear to lose you again." Isabella pulled her hand away, a bitter smile on her face. "But I can't control it, Mike. Everyone knows I'm… soiled. I don't want to live every day with people fantasizing about me, hearing their filthy words, being pointed at on the street." "I'm so scared," she sobbed. "I don't understand why Emily would do this to me. Spreading rumors is one thing, I can explain, I can endure it. But why did she have to hire men to violate me? And why film it and post it online, so I can never hold my head up again? How is that any different from killing me?" With a cry, Isabella lunged toward the wall. Panic seized Mike. He moved in a blur, catching her around the waist. "Don't!" he pleaded, his voice trembling. "Isabella, don't do this. I'll make Emily clear your name. None of it is true. I'm begging you, just calm down." She collapsed in his arms, weeping uncontrollably. The spectacle was too much for Renee. She knew Isabella's true colors, knew how she had framed me time and again. Gripping the bars of her cage, she screamed, "Isabella Thorne, stop your act! My sister never hurt you! You're the one who set her up, over and over! All she did was walk in on you screwing some other man, and for that, you wanted her dead! You're a monster, and you will get what you deserve!" Mike's face darkened with rage. He slapped Renee hard across the face, then grabbed a fistful of her hair, shoving his phone in her face. "You say Isabella framed her? Renee Monroe, open your damn eyes and look! Does this look like a frame job?" Renee’s eyes widened in stunned disbelief as she stared at the screen. A cold dread crept into my own soul. I had a sickening feeling I knew what it was, but seeing it still sent a spear of ice through my heart. How could this be… 4 In the video, Isabella Thorne was surrounded by several men, the scene a graphic depiction of sexual assault. But it was me. I was the one who had lived through that nightmare. It was Mike who, on our wedding night, had me taken to the open sea and auctioned me off. I couldn't fight, couldn't escape. In the end, my body was dumped into the ocean. I felt like I was trapped in a block of ice. Why? Why, even after I was dead, couldn't Isabella just leave me alone? Renee shook her head, refusing to believe it. "No. This has to be fake. My sister would never do something like this. That bitch Isabella is lying." Her eyes blazed with hatred. "Mike, you're blind and heartless, and you will pay for this. You're going to hell." Mike’s face was a thundercloud. He yanked her hair, striking her again and again. "You dare call Isabella a bitch? Who's the real bitch? Your sister! Your sister is the venomous, cold-hearted bitch!" He sneered. "You two sisters are quite a pair. Since you're so determined to protect her, you can pay her debt." My heart leaped into my throat. I had a terrible premonition. I spun in frantic circles, wanting to scream at Renee to just apologize, to not provoke him. A cornered Mike was capable of anything. But Renee just stared back at him with a mocking gaze, her swollen face devoid of life, as if nothing mattered anymore. Mike waved his hand dismissively. His bodyguards immediately dragged Renee from the cage. His smile was chilling. "She's all yours. Make sure you get it on video. Every angle. Then upload it online. Let's see how long Emily can stay hidden then. How dare she let her own sister take the fall for her crimes?" I felt like I'd been struck by lightning. My mind went blank. Seeing the dead look in my sister's eyes, I collapsed at Mike's feet, weeping and begging him to spare her. But no one heard my desperate cries. I threw myself over Renee, trying to shield her with my ghostly form, but countless hands passed right through me to grope and tear at her clothes. A wave of nausea washed over me, the disgusting touches and vulgar whispers dragging me back to that horrific night on the boat. My soul turned to ash. I watched the sneer on Mike's face, the phony protests from Isabella, and I wished with every fiber of my being that I could become a vengeful spirit and drag them both to hell. Just then, a bodyguard rushed in, whispering something urgently in Mike's ear.
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