The Husband Who Stole Her Life Was Finally Confronted by a Ghost

The Shattered Illusion

The dining room of Sterling Manor was always cold, no matter how many candles were lit. Tonight, the grand chandelier cast flickering shadows over a long mahogany table set for twelve. Sarah sat at the head, her fingers tracing the edge of her ivory cable-knit sweater. To the guests, she was the picture of elegance. To her husband, Julian, she was merely the final obstacle to a fortune.

Just before the main course, Julian had cornered her. The guests were laughing in the adjacent parlor, oblivious to the quiet venom spilling behind the closed double doors. Julian slid a document across the table, his eyes cold and demanding.

"Sign the deed transfer, Sarah. Tonight. I won't ask you again," he whispered.

Sarah looked at the papers. It was the complete transfer of her late father’s estate. "I can't do that, Julian. This house belongs to the Sterling family. My father trusted me to keep it safe."

Julian’s polite facade vanished. In a sudden flash of rage, his hand flew out. The strike was so violent it sent Sarah crashing to the dark hardwood floor. Her elbow clipped a crystal water goblet, sending shattered glass flying across the room. From her pocket, her father's gold pocket watch slid across the dark floorboards, its ticking loud in the sudden, horrified silence of the guests who had just opened the door.

Before Julian could speak, bright car headlights pierced the thick, foggy night through the large French windows. A sudden gust of wind rattled the glass as the mansion's double doors swung open with a heavy crash. A tall man in a black duster coat and leather gloves stepped inside. It was Victor—the man Sarah had loved, the man Julian had claimed died five years ago. Victor walked into the room, knelt beside the fallen Sarah, and picked up the ticking pocket watch with a cold, intense gaze.