Chapter 3

Christopher, you thought it was unlucky, didn’t you? But that was your wife and your child!

I wanted so badly to rush forward, grab him by the collar, and demand answers. But all I could do was stand there and be a pathetic bystander.

The doctor stopped him to collect the body-storage fee, and Sally immediately jumped in first and shouted.

"Everyone, look at this heartless hospital! Overcharging us like this. Isn’t this just taking advantage of us?!"

Christopher barely frowned, but I knew that expression all too well. He was disgusted. I never thought he would be disgusted by his own mother.

Money wasn’t an issue for Christopher anymore. He just wanted to avoid trouble, so he pulled out a few bills and handed them over, not even caring who took them.

"Mr. Ford, about Mrs. Ford..."

Predictably, Christopher cut the doctor off once again.

"I don’t have the patience for this game. Let her handle it on her own."

He squinted slightly, his gaze settling on the exposed finger of my body. The wedding ring he had given me was still there. It was worth less than four hundred dollars.

My heart jumped into my throat, and a shameful flicker of hope rose within me. Maybe Christopher would recognize it!

"How cheap."

His words pierced my soul.

……

Christopher’s company had plunged into its second-biggest financial crisis since its founding.

The first major crisis was caused by my father.

Back then, Christopher had just been dumped by Nikki, and I swooped in, setting aside my pride to work as a bar hostess.

My father was furious with me and caused a huge scene in front of the media.

From then on, Sally hated me, seeing me as a curse on Christopher’s life, and Christopher became cold and distant.

"If it weren’t for you, all my hard work wouldn’t have been wasted!

"Phoebe, no wonder no one loves you! You deserve it!"

What they didn’t know was that later, I threatened my father with my life. Despite being a working-class man, my father scraped together hundreds of thousands to help fund Christopher’s business.

Nikki walked into the office, sniffling and teary-eyed, only to be startled by the lunch box Christopher threw across the room.

"Who dares send trash like this to my office? Bring me food from that restaurant we used to order from!"

The assistant trembled and was too afraid to speak up.

Christopher had stomach problems, so I spent my days perfecting recipes just to get him to eat a little more.

I could not win his heart while I was alive, but somehow, after my death, I managed to win over his stomach.

"Christopher, I’ll cook for you from now on," Nikki said, tears sparkling in her eyes, playing the part of the innocent girl perfectly.

Christopher held her hand gently, giving it a tender squeeze.

"Your hands aren’t meant for things like this."

I could not help but laugh. Was I born to be his cook?

Christopher was overwhelmed with work but finally managed to find time to come home.

Everything in the house was just as it had been. Flowers I had arranged before my death still sat on the table, clothes I had hung were drying on the balcony, and the fridge was stocked with meals I had prepared.

But sadly, Christopher would never see me. Even the meals I made could only reach him through the hands of his assistant.

Looking back, I found it was clear that he never loved me.

"Phoebe, stop hiding. When you see a way out, you should learn to take it."

He spoke to the empty air, but no response came.

Christopher, who had always been pampered by me, had never experienced this kind of frustration before.

In his anger, he destroyed everything that reminded him of me.

The flowers I had planted were ripped out by their roots, the clothes I had hung were thrown carelessly on the floor, and even the meals I had cooked were dumped into the trash.

After venting his rage, he dialed my number, muttering to himself that he would give me one more chance.