Chapter 4

I never thought i’d attend my husband’s engagement party—with another woman.He was marrying the very person who caused my death.

At the engagement party, Sophia Reed wore a stunning white mermaid gown adorned with pearls, her skin glowing with a rosy hue that radiated health.

My heart was beating in her chest, and she was clearly satisfied with it.

So was Steven Anderson.

He stood tall in his impeccably tailored suit, nearly identical to the one he wore at our modest wedding three years ago. The only difference now was the smile on his face—a wide, unrestrained joy that he didn’t even try to hide.

They danced together in the center of the room, hand in hand, stealing the attention of every guest. It was a moment of adoration I had never dared to dream of for myself.

In the center of the stage stood a three-tiered cake, the one Sophia had personally picked out, paid for by Steven. I remembered the moment vividly—I had been there, floating unseen, when I overheard their exchange.

“Get whatever size you want,” Steven had said with indulgent affection. “Don’t worry about whether the guests can finish it. I’ll help you eat it.”

But I knew for a fact that Steven didn’t eat sweets.

How could I forget? On our third wedding anniversary, I had surprised him with a cream cake. His expression had been awkward, almost uncomfortable, as he took a small bite.

“I don’t eat sweets,” he said flatly. “Don’t waste your time making these again.”

I stood there, frozen, the frosting still smudged on my face.

“I’m heading back to the hospital,” he added, handing me the untouched plate. “Just throw it out, and don’t bother with this next time.”

I had convinced myself that it was my fault for not learning his preferences sooner.

But now, it was clear: his preferences depended entirely on the person.

Everything I had tried so hard to attain, Sophia had achieved effortlessly.

She took my heart, my husband’s love, and perhaps even secured her family’s financial support for the hospital.

After the engagement party, her parents announced they would significantly increase their investment in the hospital’s research programs.

Steven was the happiest man in the room.

He drank so much that he had to excuse himself to the dressing room to change and sober up.

The door closed behind him, and I felt my soul being pulled along, following him inside.

I watched as he staggered to the couch, slumping down heavily. He loosened his tie with a sharp tug, his earlier smile suddenly replaced by a frozen stillness.

Then, he pulled out his phone, unlocking a private photo album with facial recognition.

Inside, there was only one picture.

It was an image of him posing with a patient who had just been discharged from the hospital.

There were no photos of us—no memories of the life we had shared.

But when he zoomed in on the corner of the photo, the blurred face of a passerby came into focus.

It was me.

I had been caught in the background, an accidental fragment of the moment.

“Ginger… Ginger…”

He murmured my name under his breath, and his broad shoulders began to tremble.

When he looked up again, his eyes were bloodshot, tears pooling and spilling over.

What was this?

I was already dead. He had never cared for me when I was alive, never once said he loved me. So who was this display for now?

Or… could it be that some part of him truly did feel sorrow for me?

“Ginger, I’ll avenge you,” he whispered, his voice shaking.

“For our child, I’ll make the one responsible pay in blood.”

I froze, stunned, wondering if I had misheard.

But before I could process his words, the dressing room door suddenly swung open.