Death of a Love, Birth of a Ghost

My sister Ivanna's son was dying. His leukemia had returned, and he needed a bone marrow transplant immediately.

My husband, Jaimen, didn't hesitate. His cold eyes landed on our five-year-old daughter, Lily, playing in the corner.

"Use Lily's," he said. "Her marrow is a perfect match."

When I refused, he and my own sister pinned me to the floor. They ignored my screams as doctors held down my terrified daughter and performed the extraction.

They took too much. Lily died the next day of cardiac arrest. Then, they had me beaten and dumped my body in a dark alley, leaving me to die alone.

For three years, Jaimen believed I had run away out of spite. He cursed my name, telling everyone I was a venomous woman who had murdered our daughter to get back at him.

Now, Timothy's leukemia is back, and Jaimen has launched a massive, city-wide manhunt. He is threatening to torture my mother to force me out of hiding, vowing to break my legs and make me kneel.

He has no idea his search will lead him to two graves.

And that my ghost is watching his every move, waiting for the moment he finally learns the truth.

Chapter 1

The doctor's words echoed in the sterile white room, a death sentence for my sister Ivanna's son.

"Timothy's leukemia has returned. It's aggressive. He needs a bone marrow transplant immediately."

My husband, Jaimen Cline, didn't hesitate. His eyes, cold and sharp, landed on our five-year-old daughter, Lily, playing in the corner.

"Use Lily's," he said. "Her marrow is a perfect match."

My blood ran cold. "Jaimen, no. We can't. Lily is too young, too fragile."

He ignored me. His focus was entirely on Timothy, the son my sister had with him before we were even married. A son he loved more than anyone.

I stood between him and our daughter. "I won't let you do this."

Jaimen' s face twisted with impatience. He didn't lay a hand on me. He didn't have to.

"Ivanna," he called out, his voice dangerously calm.

My own sister, Ivanna Ware, stepped forward. Her eyes were red from crying, but there was a hard glint in them that terrified me.

"Christeen, please," she begged, but her hands were already reaching for me. "It's for Timothy. It's for my son."

"He's your son, not hers!" I screamed, trying to push her away, trying to shield Lily, who had started to cry.

Ivanna's desperation turned into rage. She grabbed my hair, yanking my head back with brutal force.

"You selfish bitch!" she shrieked. "My son is dying, and you're worried about a little pain?"

Her fist connected with my stomach. The air rushed out of my lungs. She slammed my head against the hard tile of the hospital hallway. The world spun, stars exploding behind my eyes. The last thing I saw was Jaimen' s impassive face as he instructed the guards to hold Lily down. The last thing I heard was my daughter' s terrified screams.

They left me bleeding and broken in a dark, wet alley behind the hospital. They thought I was dead. In a way, I was.

That was three years ago.

Now, Timothy's leukemia is back. And Jaimen Cline remembers me.

He stands in the doorway of our old home, the one I fled from that night. It's deserted now, windows boarded up, the garden choked with weeds.

He scoffs, a bitter, ugly sound. "She swore she'd only love me her whole life."

He kicks at a loose floorboard. "I've only been gone for a short while, and she's already moved on. So unfaithful."

Ivanna rushes to his side, her face a mask of panic. She clutches his arm, her knuckles white. "Jaimen, the doctor says Timothy's condition is urgent. We need a bone marrow match immediately."

Her voice breaks. "Now that Christeen and her daughter are gone, what will happen to my Timothy?"

Jaimen's jaw tightens. He turns, his eyes sweeping over the city as if he could will me to appear. He pulls out his phone and barks an order to his assistant.

"Launch a full-scale search. Find Christeen Hahn and her daughter. Use whatever means necessary. I want them here by tomorrow."

He thinks he can drag us back, force my little girl onto that cold table again.

But this time, he'll be disappointed.

This time, his search will lead him nowhere.

Because my daughter and I are already dead.