Back From the Dead for His Betrayal / Chapter 7: Truth and Dare
Back From the Dead for His Betrayal

Back From the Dead for His Betrayal

Author: Kathleen Chen

Chapter 7: Truth and Dare

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The spirit money Caleb bought was almost all burned up.

Ash drifted on the breeze, swirling like gray confetti across the lawn. The night was warm, cicadas humming in the trees. I shivered, despite myself.

Mr. Blackwell would have received the money by now—maybe he’d summon me back early.

I thought for a moment, then said, “Can you tell me about Derek these past few years?”

But before Caleb could answer, a low voice sounded behind me.

“If you want to know, why not ask me directly?”

The voice was unmistakable—deep, rough around the edges. Caleb and I both stood up and turned to see Derek had returned.

He stood under the porch light, suit jacket slung carelessly over one shoulder, hair mussed. His gaze fell on me, unreadable.

I didn’t know how much he’d heard. Instinctively, I wanted to hide behind Caleb.

Caleb noticed, shifted his body to block me, but didn’t stop me.

Derek watched, pain flickering in his eyes.

“Who allowed you to burn spirit money in my yard?”

His tone was half-accusation, half-broken plea.

“Sorry, Uncle…”

Caleb tried to explain, but Derek ignored him and came straight to me.

He was clearly looking at me, but his words were for Caleb.

“Mr. Carter just called. Your best friend was hit by a car and is in the hospital.”

The words hit like a cold slap. Caleb’s face drained of color. He immediately reached for his phone, dialed, but no one answered.

He was about to rush off, but then remembered I was still there.

I gave him a reassuring smile. “Go check on him. Don’t worry about me.”

Caleb glanced at Derek, hesitated, then finally left a parting plea: “Uncle, don’t drive her away.”

The words hung between us, a fragile truce in the quiet night.

…

As soon as Caleb left, Derek grabbed me and dragged me into the house.

His grip was rough, urgent, as if he feared I might vanish if he let go. The foyer lights cast our shadows long and thin against the wall.

The moment the door closed, he couldn’t wait—he began tugging at my shirt.

Frightened, I desperately covered my collar, pleading, “Don’t do this, Derek, I’m scared…”

But it was as if he didn’t hear. He easily pinned my hands above my head and pulled open my collar, exposing my collarbone.

The air chilled my skin, and I shivered involuntarily.

I wanted to struggle, but then Derek’s movements suddenly stopped.

His gaze finally landed on the red birthmark just below my collarbone.

Was he trying to confirm if I was really Megan?

His hand trembled as he brushed the fabric aside, eyes fixed on the birthmark like it held the answer to every question he’d never dared ask. The silence stretched, heavy with hope, fear, and the promise of the past.

He took a shaky breath. “If you’re really Megan, say something only she would know.”

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