Chapter 2

Ivonne Walton. I recognized her immediately. The woman who had tormented me throughout my marriage, always appearing as a "friend" to Elroy, a shadow I could never get rid of.

I remembered how she would "accidentally" spill wine on my dresses at parties, how she would tell stories of her and Elroy's childhood that made me feel like an outsider.

In the beginning, Elroy would defend me. He would pull me close and tell Ivonne to back off, his eyes holding a promise of protection that I believed was real.

"Are you okay, Elroy? You look tired," Ivonne said now, her voice full of fake concern as she took his coat.

"Just dealing with some trash," Elroy replied, his eyes cold as he glanced in the direction of the orphanage.

"Is it... Annis?" she asked, her hand tightening on his arm.

"Who else? She's pretending her kid is dead now. Thinks it'll make me feel something."

"So, Emma... she's not really...?" Ivonne's voice was careful, testing.

My spectral form tensed. I watched Elroy's face, searching for any sign of doubt, any flicker of the man I once loved. There was none.

He believed I was alive. He believed I was orchestrating this entire nightmare.

I remembered when Emma was born. Elroy had been so happy. He held her in his arms and cried, telling me she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He called her his "little princess."

That man was gone.

"Of course she's not dead," Elroy scoffed, running a hand through his hair. "It's a trick. But I've handled it. Let's not talk about them anymore. How are you and our baby?"

"We're fine," Ivonne said, smiling, but her eyes held a flicker of something else. Fear? Relief?

Suddenly, Ivonne gasped, clutching her stomach. "Elroy, I think... I think it's time."

Panic replaced the cruelty on Elroy's face. He swept her into his arms and rushed her to the car, shouting orders at his driver.

At the hospital, he was a different person. He was attentive, worried, gentle. He held Ivonne's hand, whispering words of encouragement.

Hours later, a nurse came out. "Congratulations, Mr. Ayala. You have a beautiful baby girl."

The baby looked just like Elroy. He took her from the nurse, his hands shaking slightly. He doted on her, his face transformed by a love so profound it made my spirit ache. He kissed her forehead, her tiny hands, his voice a soft murmur.

"Hello, my little angel. I'm your daddy."

The contrast was brutal. For this child, he was a loving father. For Emma, he was a murderer. I watched him, and the cold hatred inside me burned hotter.

A work call pulled him away for a moment. Before he left the room, he leaned over and kissed Ivonne, then the baby.

"I'll be right back. You two rest."

I stared at the newborn, then at Elroy's retreating back. The pieces clicked into place with a horrifying certainty. This child... it was his. The timing, his devotion... he had been cheating on me. He had a whole other family while Emma and I suffered.

I wanted to scream at him, to claw at his face, but I was just a ghost. I was powerless.

Then, a doctor entered the room, his expression grave. He was speaking to Elroy, who had just returned.

"Mr. Ayala, I'm sorry to have to tell you this. We've run some tests on your daughter."

Elroy's smile vanished. "What is it?"

"She has a severe congenital heart defect. Without a heart transplant, she won't live past the age of three."

Elroy's face went blank for a second. Just a second. Then, a slow, chilling smile spread across his lips.

"A heart transplant, you say?" he mused, looking out the window. "That's not a problem."

He turned to his bodyguard. "Go back to the orphanage. Retrieve Emma's body. Tell the doctors to prepare for surgery."

I froze in pure, unadulterated horror.

I finally understood.

"Annis and that little brat owe me," Elroy said, his voice low and vicious. "It's time they paid their debt. Her heart will save my real daughter."

My mind flashed back to the day his mother died. She had fallen down the stairs. I was the one who found her. But Ivonne was there too, in the shadows, a smirk on her face. Elroy arrived to find me kneeling over his mother's body, and in his grief, he believed Ivonne's lies. He believed I had pushed her.

"You killed my mother," he had screamed at me at the funeral, his face twisted with a hatred that terrified me. He grabbed me, his fingers digging into my arms, while I was pregnant with Emma. "You and that thing inside you will pay for this. I will make you suffer for the rest of your life. If you ever try to divorce me, I'll kill her. I'll kill our daughter."

And he had kept his promise.