I stood by the railing of the Tobin Bridge, the night wind cutting through my coat like a dull blade. It was the night before the wedding. Tomorrow was supposed to be the beginning of my "happily ever after" with Debby. Instead, the echo of her parting words still rang in my ears, sharp as shattered glass. She had slammed the door ten minutes ago, shouting that I wouldn't be satisfied until I’d driven everyone to their graves. She didn't realize that I was the one who couldn't breathe anymore. My world had tilted on its axis the moment the man who spent years ruining my life—Steward—returned. He was the "prodigal son," the foster brother who had bullied me into a shell of a human being. But ever since he came back from his "rehabilitation" with a supposedly new soul, the world had decided he was a saint. My parents took him back with open arms, telling me I needed to learn the "grace of forgiveness." Even Debby, who had seen the bruises he left on my skin years ago, now claimed he had changed into someone "gentle and reliable." The girls he once tormented now looked at him with adoration. My oldest friends called him innocent and kind, whispering that I was the one being petty, holding onto a past that no longer existed. They saw a refined, soft-spoken gentleman; they saw me as a volatile, broken paranoiac. The weight of being abandoned by everyone I loved was heavier than the trauma itself. Maybe the fall would finally be light. I took a deep breath and let go. 1 Even as a ghost, I could still feel the cold. The river water in the middle of the night bit into my phantom bones, the smell of silt and salt clogging a nose that no longer breathed. I found myself hovering near Debby. She was in the back of a car, thumbs flying across her phone screen. I tried to lean in to see what she was typing, but a voice pulled my attention away. It was my mother. "He actually skipped out on his own wedding just because we asked him to let Steward be the best man? How did I raise such a spiteful creature?" My father sighed, his face a mask of exhaustion. "We spoiled him. We sent him to London for years to 'heal,' and he comes back even more dramatic. If I’d known he’d be this much trouble, we never should have brought him home." Five years ago, Steward had been sent away—not to a monastery, but to a juvenile facility after a string of crimes. I was sent across the Atlantic, fueled by Xanax and therapy, trying to piece my mind back together. Debby had been my lifeline then. She flew to see me every month. She studied psychology just to understand me; she learned to cook my favorite meals; she walked through parks with me when I was too scared to speak. It lasted until New Year’s Eve, a month ago. Debby had proposed. I had panicked and fled. She sat outside my apartment in the freezing rain all night, sending apology after apology. She ended up with pneumonia. After three days of hiding, I decided to be brave for her. She had cried, holding me tight. "As long as I’m here, Adrian, no one will ever hurt you again." Now, Debby gripped her phone, her eyes cold and impatient. "Give him thirty more minutes," she said, her voice devoid of the warmth I’d died for. "If he doesn't show up, we find a replacement." Her gaze shifted to Steward, who was sitting across from her. My parents exchanged a look of relief. "Then let’s get Steward ready," my father said. "We can't afford a delay." "What if he comes back halfway through the ceremony?" my mother asked, her voice hovering between worry and annoyance. Debby offered a sharp, mirthless smile. "He made his bed. Let him sleep in it." "No," Steward whispered, his eyes reddening as he shook his head. "Adrian already hates me. If he sees me taking his place, he’ll have another breakdown. He’ll... he’ll try to hurt himself again." His words acted like a trigger, pulling everyone back into a shared, bitter memory. The day Debby and I returned to the States, my parents brought Steward to the airport to meet us. Seeing that face—the face of my five-year nightmare—sent me into a catatonic state. I collapsed right there in the terminal, losing control of my bladder. I woke up in a hospital bed to the sound of my parents’ disappointment. "We spent hundreds of thousands on his treatment, and he still has zero resilience?" "Steward suffered far more in that facility than Adrian ever did in London, and you don't see him acting this fragile. The wedding is in three months—if Adrian has an episode like that in front of our investors, it’ll be a disaster for both families." Debby had held my cold hand then. "Don't worry. I’ll take him through exposure therapy. We have three months." Exposure therapy meant forcing me to be near my "allergen." She knew how much I feared him, yet she made the choice for me. I had been so terrified that I pretended to sleep just to avoid their eyes. When they left, I climbed to the hospital roof. I remember the wind howling, my toes hanging over the ledge. But the moment I closed my eyes to jump, a searing jolt of electricity surged through me. I collapsed backward, my body convulsing in pain. Steward had tackled me, sobbing, slapping his own face as he begged for my forgiveness. My parents had arrived and called me an embarrassment. Debby didn't even come close; she just stood there, her brow furrowed in a look of pure, clinical exhaustion. Amidst the chaos, through my own screams of pain, I had heard something. It wasn't a voice. It was a mechanical thought inside Steward's head. [System, what’s the progress on the 'Redemption' meter?] [I’m so sick of this pathetic protagonist. Let’s hurry up and finish the mission so the original host can come back and deal with this mess.] 2 "He’s too cowardly to actually do it," Debby said, her voice snapping me back to the present. "Every time he 'jumps' or 'swallows pills,' it’s a cry for attention. He’s being reckless because he thinks I’ll chase him." She turned and walked toward the smoking lounge. My parents were already ushering Steward toward the dressing rooms, their faces bright with a joy they hadn't shown me in years. It seemed I was tethered to Debby. I followed her like an invisible shadow. She lit a cigarette and refreshed her phone obsessively. When no message appeared, she slammed the phone onto the marble counter. The screen shattered. I floated closer. Before the screen went black, I saw a news alert. [Body found near Charles River. Police investigating. Identity currently unconfirmed...] "You have twenty minutes, Adrian," Debby whispered to the empty room, her voice trembling with a mix of rage and something that sounded like grief. "Show up, and we’ll move to Europe the day after the ceremony. I’ll take you away from all of this." I tilted my head, watching her. I thought about the fight we had last night. Debby had unilaterally changed my wedding suit. She had also agreed to my parents' suggestion that Steward be my best man. In the bridal suite, a stunning, backless silk gown hung on a mannequin. Next to it was a suit she had chosen—it was high-fashion, sure, but it was cut in a way that exposed far too much skin. "Steward has great taste," she had said with a smile. "This shows off your frame much better than that boring tuxedo you picked." I had turned pale. Debby took my hand and forced me to touch the diamond-encrusted cufflinks on the new jacket. They felt like ice. Since I’d been back, they had orchestrated countless "meetings" between Steward and me. Every time, I reacted violently. I tried roofs, pills, traffic, wrists. Every time, I was "saved." Because Steward had a "System." He used "points" to keep me tethered to a life I didn't want. But to my parents and Debby, it just looked like I was throwing tantrums. They thought my suicide attempts were "the boy who cried wolf." "I told you the wedding could be moved up," Debby had snapped during the fight. "I told you we’d leave the country afterward. If you hate him so much, you won't ever have to see him again. Why can't you just cooperate on the small things? The suit, the best man... it’s just one day." "Everyone else has moved on, Adrian. You’re the only one clinging to the dirt." "This suit... it’s too open. I can't wear it." I had tremblingly lifted my shirt then, showing her the map of scars on my torso. Debby’s pupils had shrunk. Her expression was unreadable. When I reached for my pant leg to show her the rest, she grabbed my wrist. "Enough," she said. I forced a smile, my voice shaking. "Did you forget? In that warehouse? Steward used a curling iron on every inch of my body. You were the one who found me, Debby. You were the one who drove me to the ER." She flinched as if she had been burned, pulling her hand away. 3 "That was a lifetime ago," she said, her voice hardening again. "He knows what he did. When you were sick, he walked to that cathedral in the rain and stayed on his knees all night praying for you. He makes you soup every day and leaves it at the door so you won't be scared. He’s trying, Adrian." "You’ve been away too long. You don't want to believe people can change. I’m not asking you to love him. I’m asking you to stop being a child on our wedding day." I had one last shred of hope. "I’ll wear the suit. Just... don't make him the best man. Please." Even now, looking at his face made my heart stop. Debby avoided my eyes. "It’s already settled. I’m doing this for your own good. To prove he can't hurt you anymore." "Then there is no wedding," I said. My eyes were red. I pushed the mannequin over, watching the expensive silk crumple on the floor. If I couldn't even choose what I wore or who stood beside me at my own wedding, what was the point? "The wedding is tomorrow! You’re going to blow everything up over this? Think about the families, Adrian! Think about the bigger picture!" The blood in my veins went cold. I realized then that she had waited until the last minute to tell me about the changes specifically so I couldn't say no. She was bankrolling my "recovery," and this was the interest. "So because he's 'better' now, I’m supposed to delete my own history?" I asked, lost. Debby’s face twisted into a mask of fury. "You are being completely irrational!" She left shortly after. My parents and Steward arrived minutes later. "When are you going to grow up?" my father yelled. "We haven't had a moment of peace since we brought you back!" "Families have friction, Adrian. Get over it," my mother added. "We’ve all accepted Steward. Your friends have accepted him. Why must you be the one to make everything difficult?" I tried to speak, but the words died in my throat. Steward had once sold my father’s company secrets to a rival, nearly bankrupting us. He had drugged my mother and left her in a dangerous neighborhood to be humiliated. He had broken the limbs of my classmates. He had filmed my friend Becca in the locker room and posted it online. And yet, they forgave him. Steward dropped to his knees, his forehead hitting the floor with a sickening thud. "Adrian, hit me. Scream at me. Just don't cancel the wedding because of me. I shouldn't have picked the suit. I shouldn't have agreed to be the best man." "I know I don't deserve to be in your sight, but I can't leave Mom and Dad! Take your anger out on me, just don't hurt the innocent people who love you!" He kept banging his head until blood smeared the floor. My parents tried to pull him up, their anger turning toward me. My father shoved me hard. "Are you satisfied? Say something!" "Are we having a wedding or not?" I stumbled, falling against the sharp edge of a side table. A dull thud echoed in my skull, and suddenly, a strange electronic pings sounded in the air. [Host, well done! Family favorability is at 95%!] [At this rate, once the wedding ends tomorrow, the mission will be complete. You’ll be able to leave this world forever!] 4 My parents spent the next hour threatening me. If I didn't show up, they’d have me committed to a private asylum for life. Then they rushed out to take a "fainting" Steward to the clinic. Shortly after they left, I received two texts. The first was from Steward’s number: [Debby took me to the fitting personally. The suit is sexy, Adrian. Fits me like a glove. She said the one you picked made you look like a mummy—embarrassing to even look at.] The second followed immediately: [She promised me that after the wedding, she’s taking me to Europe with you guys for 'grad school.' Are you excited?] Thinking back on it as a ghost, my chest still felt like it was being crushed. A sudden, panicked shout broke the silence in the smoking lounge. "Ms. Sterling! Something’s happened!" Debby’s assistant ran in, drenched in sweat. "The hotel security footage from 3:00 AM shows Mr. Miller getting into a taxi. The GPS tracker shows he ended up at the bridge—" "Debby! Forget about him. He’s not coming." A calm, male voice cut through the assistant's panic. It was Justin, my "best friend." Debby looked up, her eyes narrowing. "What do you mean?" Justin sighed, looking disgusted. "He called me at 3:00 AM. Begged me to help him run away. When I told him to stop being a drama queen, he bought a ticket to Bali. Haven't you seen his Instagram?" He pulled out his phone and showed her my profile. I floated over to look. There was a photo of a beach. A location tag for a luxury resort. But I wasn't in the photo. Debby believed it instantly. Her face turned a sickly shade of gray, then purple with rage. "Fine. He wants to play games? Fine. Tell the planners. The wedding goes on. We’re swapping the groom." She stormed out. The assistant tried to follow, but Justin grabbed his arm. "This is a merger between two dynasties," Justin whispered. "Think about the stocks. If this wedding fails, who’s going to take the fall? You?" The assistant froze. Justin let out a breath and sent a quick text. I looked over his shoulder. It was to Steward. [Handled.] Steward appeared a moment later, wearing the suit he had "picked" for me. He looked radiant, his makeup perfect. I could hear his internal monologue cheering. [Favorability is maxed out! System, get me out of here. Let the original host have this body back!] Debby looked at him, her eyes vacant. Suddenly, the air was sliced by the sound of police sirens. Within seconds, the ballroom was surrounded. "Nobody move!" an officer shouted through a megaphone. "We have reason to believe a suspect involved in a homicide is present. Everyone stay where you are!"
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