Chapter 2

The phone in my hand felt like a block of ice. Cole' s name glowed on the screen, a beacon of my own stupidity.

I couldn' t confront him. Not now. Not like this.

If I showed my hand, they would close ranks. They would deny everything, gaslight me, and paint me as hysterical and unstable. They had been doing it for years, subtly undermining my confidence, making me believe I was the fragile, emotional one.

No. I needed a plan. I needed proof that no one could deny.

I took a deep, shuddering breath and swiped to answer.

"Hey," I said, my voice a stranger's, calm and even. "Sorry, just got turned around. I'm on my way back now."

There was a pause on the other end. I could almost hear the gears turning in his head.

"Elaine? Are you okay? You sound... distant." His voice was slick with manufactured concern. The same voice he used on board members and investors.

"Just a little overwhelmed, I guess," I lied, forcing a light laugh. "It's a huge night. I just needed a second."

"I was worried," he said. "I thought I heard something outside."

"Probably just the catering staff," I said smoothly. "I'm heading back to the ballroom now. Don't let me miss your big moment."

Another slight pause. He was testing me. "Of course. I'll see you in a minute."

"See you," I said and ended the call.

I leaned against the cold brick wall, my body still trembling. The girl who had run from the airfield was gone. In her place was someone cold and sharp.

For five years, I had been their perfect shield. The respectable fiancée, the symbol of Stewart Dynamics' stable future. My engagement to the brilliant Cole Koch had been the ultimate PR move after the "Juliette scandal." It had calmed the markets and restored faith in the family's leadership.

I wasn' t a partner. I was a prop.

I walked back into the ballroom, my steps measured and deliberate. The noise, the lights, the fake smiles-it all felt like a scene from a movie I was no longer a part of.

I saw them at the head table. My mother, my father, and Cole, their heads together, whispering. They glanced up as I approached, their faces instantly rearranging into masks of warmth and concern.

"There you are, darling," my mother said, her voice a little too bright.

Cole stood up, pulling me into a hug. "I was getting worried."

His embrace felt like a cage. I could smell Juliette's perfume on his suit jacket. The scent of her betrayal. I had to fight the urge to physically recoil. I let my body go limp in his arms, playing the part of the tired, overwhelmed fiancée.

"I'm fine," I murmured against his chest. "Just a bit dizzy. Too much excitement."

"Of course," he said, stroking my back. "Sit down. Have some water."

The rest of the dinner was a blur. My father gave his triumphant speech, announcing Cole as the future of the company. Cole accepted the praise with practiced humility, his eyes finding mine in the crowd, giving me a look that was supposed to convey shared victory.

All I could see was him kneeling in front of his daughter on the tarmac.

`Daddy, can we get ice cream?`

The thought made my stomach churn. I excused myself again, this time to the restroom. I splashed cold water on my face, staring at the woman in the mirror. Her eyes were hard, her jaw set. The soft, gentle Elaine was gone.

I couldn't fight them on their terms. They were masters of manipulation. I needed something undeniable. Something that would burn their world to the ground.

I needed evidence.

I returned to the table, smiling. I played my part to perfection for the rest of the night, laughing at the right moments, holding Cole's hand, letting my parents beam at their perfect daughter.

We went home to the penthouse we shared, the one with sweeping views of the city. It was supposed to be our home, the start of our life together. Now, it felt like a gilded prison.

That night, I lay in bed, pretending to be asleep, listening to the rhythm of Cole's breathing. Every breath was a lie. I waited until he was deep in sleep, his breathing heavy and even.

Then I slipped out of bed.

His study was my target. The one room that was strictly his domain. He kept his personal laptop there, a sleek, black machine he guarded jealously.

The room was dark. I didn't turn on the lights. I navigated by the faint glow of the city skyline. His laptop sat on the polished oak desk, closed. It was password protected, of course. Cole was meticulous about security.

I sat in his leather chair, the worn material still holding his warmth. I opened the laptop. The login screen appeared, asking for a password.

I tried the obvious ones first. My name. My birthday. Our anniversary. `StewartDynamics`. `Nexus`. Nothing.

My mind raced. What was truly important to him? Not me. Not the company.

Juliette. Kiarra.

I tried `Juliette`. Nothing. `Kiarra`. Nothing.

I felt a surge of frustration. I was about to give up when my eyes fell on a small, framed photo on his desk. It was tucked behind a stack of papers, almost hidden. It was a photo of Kiarra as a baby, smiling toothlessly. Around her neck was a tiny silver locket.

The locket. I' d seen it before. In a photo he' d shown me months ago, claiming it was a gift for his "niece."

I quietly opened the top drawer of his desk. Inside, amongst pens and paperclips, was the very same locket. My fingers trembled as I picked it up. It felt cold against my skin.

I opened it.

Inside, on one side, was a microscopic photo of Juliette. On the other, an engraving: `K.H. 0814`.

Kiarra Hughes. August 14th.

My heart pounded. I turned back to the laptop and typed in the numbers: `0814`.

The screen went black for a second, and then it unlocked.

The desktop background loaded, and the air was punched from my lungs.

It was a family portrait. Cole, Juliette, and Kiarra, sitting on a picnic blanket in a sun-drenched park. They looked happy. They looked real.

And in that moment, I knew with absolute certainty that I was the ghost in their story.