Chapter 1: The Ghost in My Living Room

Midnight. My iPhone buzzed on the nightstand, slicing through the dark with a blue-white glare that burned behind my eyelids and set my heart hammering even before I could see the screen.

The sender was Michael’s assistant, the one with the fake lashes and sharper claws than anyone at the firm. She sent me a provocative, intimate photo—her pressed up against Michael, both of them flushed and smiling like they’d won something I never even entered to play.

The message pinged again, the blue-white glow strobing across my face, making everything in the room feel cold and brittle.

"We spent four hours together today."

I didn’t even get a chance to process it, let alone reply. The phone vibrated again, little shocks running up my arm.

Because, at that exact moment, the soul of my nemesis—dead for ten years—suddenly appeared in my apartment.

"That’s your fiancé?" Jason’s voice cut through the room, cocky as ever, laced with that lazy, taunting drawl I remembered from Lincoln High. It sounded like he’d just stepped out of gym class, not a grave.

"Seriously? Guy’s got my old haircut and everything. Is this your type now?"