Chapter 4
The pre-dawn light seeped into Lilith’s bedroom, outlining her restless sleeping face.
I hovered in front of her bed, glaring at the woman who had ruined my life.
Her eyelids fluttered slightly, and her lips twitched from time to time. She was clearly in the throes of a nightmare.
“No… Please, no…” she murmured in her sleep, her fingers desperately clutching at the sheets. “Not me… It’s Emily… It’s her fault…”
Hearing my own name spilled from her lips, I felt a cold fury surge from the depths of my spirit.
The vanity mirror by the window suddenly cracked with a faint sound, a jagged crack splitting across its surface like lightning.
Lilith jolted awake and sat upright as she gasped for breath.
Her gaze instantly locked onto the cracked mirror, her pupils dilating with terror.
“Again…” she whispered, her voice trembling as she slid out of bed, bare feet sinking into the soft carpet. She crept toward the vanity, and when her distorted reflection stared back at her from the mirror, a short, sharp scream escaped her lips.
Immediately, hurried footsteps pounded outside the door. Soon, Mary burst in. “Honey, what happened? Are you alright?”
“The mirror… just cracked by itself.” Lilith threw herself into Mary’s arms, her voice trembling. “Mom, I really think she’s here. Emily’s soul is here. She hates me.”
Mary gently patted Lilith’s back, her eyes scanning the room warily. “Don’t talk nonsense, sweetheart. It’s just a cheap mirror. You’ll have a rehearsal for your wedding today. Don’t dwell on such bad omens.”
“But ever since she died, strange things keep happening,” Lilith sobbed. “My things move on their own. The room suddenly gets freezing cold, and now, the mirror just cracked by itself. Mom, she hates me.”
I floated right in front of Lilith, so close that I could almost see each of her eyelashes.
Cold sweat trickled down her temple, her breathing rapid and uneven.
Seeing her so terrified, I couldn’t help but feel a twisted sense of satisfaction.
‘Exactly, I hate you.”
My voiceless words hung in the air.
‘I hate you for stealing everything from me-my family, my lover, and even my life.
And now, you’ll pay the price.”
After comforting Lilith, Mary summoned the maid to clean the shattered mirror.
As Lilith was led to the bathroom to freshen up, I lingered in the room, quietly plotting my next move.
Ever since I discovered I could subtly influence the physical world, I’d been diligently honing this power.
At first, I could barely make the paper tremble. Now, I could shatter mirrors.
It seemed this power was directly linked to the intensity of my emotions-the more rage and agony I felt, the stronger it got.
Their wedding rehearsal was a perfect opportunity for me.
I’d make Lilith humiliate herself in front of everyone and put the very first crack in her perfect facade.
The house slowly came to life as the servants bustled about preparing for the wedding rehearsal.
I drifted into the grand hall, silently watching as the staff set up the floral arch and arranged the chairs.
Declan was discussing the ceremony arrangements with the wedding planner, while Jerry stood nearby, checking his watch impatiently.
Jerry asked, “Why isn’t Lilith down yet? The rehearsal’s supposed to start at nine.”
“She needs time to do makeup,” Declan said with a chuckle, patting Jerry on the shoulder. “Don’t be impatient. She’s worth the wait.”
My stomach-if souls even had stomachs-twisted in agony.
Jerry should have been waiting for me, his rightful bride.
And now, he was waiting for my murderer, the woman who stole everything from me.
A fresh wave of rage surged through me. The bouquet at the center of the hall withered instantly, petals cascading to the floor.
The servants exchanged startled whispers, hastily replacing the withered bouquet with fresh blooms.
Lilith finally came down the staircase, standing breathtakingly in a white wedding gown that made her look every inch the perfect bride.
Jerry stepped forward to meet her, pressing a kiss to the back of her hand. I willed myself closer, listening to those sickening sweet nothings.
Jerry noticed the dark circles under Lilith’s eyes and asked, “Didn’t sleep well last night?”
“I had a nightmare about… Emily,” Lilith managed a weak smile.
Jerry’s expression stiffened for a split second. “Don’t bring her up. Today’s supposed to be our special day.”
“But she’s dead, Jerry,” Lilith whispered. “And I feel her soul… is right here in this house.”
Jerry wrapped his arm around her waist and said, “Stop overthinking. Even if she became a ghost, what could she do? The dead can’t harm the living.”
I thought I had to disappoint Jerry. He was terribly wrong. The dead could do plenty, especially when consumed by hatred.
The rehearsal officially began, and guests took their seats.
I drifted behind Lilith, watching as she nervously fidgeted with her veil.
As the officiant began reciting the blessings, Lilith and Jerry stood arm in arm beneath the floral arch, looking every bit like a prince and princess from a fairy tale.
As the officiant asked, “Do you take this man to be your husband?” I focused all my willpower, making the crystal chandelier above the floral arch shake violently.
“I do…” Lilith had just opened her mouth to speak when an ominous creaking sound came from above her head.
She looked up and instantly went pale, terror freezing her in place.
The crystal chandelier swung more and more violently, sparking panicked screams from the crowd.
Declan was the first to react. He lunged forward and yanked Lilith to safety.
The next instant, the chandelier came crashing down and landed precisely where Lilith had stood just moments before.
Shards of crystal flew everywhere, throwing the scene into utter chaos. Lilith went limp in Declan’s arms, her whole body trembling uncontrollably.
“Th-this can’t be… How is this possible?” she stammered. “No one touched it, and it just fell on its own.”
I hovered above, watching the chaos unfold with dark satisfaction.
My dear sister, this was just the beginning.
Dylan swiftly took control of the chaotic scene, called for an immediate halt to the rehearsal, and dismissed
everyone to rest.
Medical staff rushed in to check on Lilith, with Bob among them.
I couldn’t help but notice how unusually grave Bob looked as he examined Lilith.
After everyone else had left, Bob remained to speak privately with Dylan.
Bob said in a hushed tone, “Mr. Donovan, Miss Lilith Donovan’s condition is concerning. Her heart rate is irregular, her blood pressure is up, and she’s showing clear signs of anxiety. She needs rest and… psychological support.”
“Just give her some sedatives,” Dylan said impatiently. “The wedding must go on as scheduled.”
“Mr. Donovan…” Bob hesitated, lowering his voice. “I believe these accidents may be connected to Miss Emily Donovan’s death. Miss Lilith Donovan seems deeply disturbed by them.”
Dylan’s eyes grew sharp. “Dr. Smith, I pay you to offer treatment, not to spout ridiculous ghost stories. Just do your job.”
Bob lowered his head in apparent submission, but I caught the brief flare of anger in his eyes.
After Dylan left, Bob stood alone in the hallway and pulled out a photo from his pocket-my college graduation portrait.
He whispered, “Miss Emily Donovan, if you’re truly here, please give me a sign.”
I stared at him in astonishment. Bob actually believed in my spiritual existence? Was he really trying to help
me?
Concentrating hard, I willed the door at the end of the hallway to slowly creak open and then shut.
Bob’s eyes widened in shock. He rushed to the door and looked behind it, only to find no one there.
“I see…” he murmured to himself. “I’ll… find a way to help you.”
He hurried away, leaving me there with a glimmer of hope kindling in my heart.
Perhaps, I was not entirely alone in this.
That afternoon, sedatives dragged Lilith into a heavy sleep.
I drifted through the manor, plotting my next move. After this morning’s events, my psychic powers seemed to have grown stronger.
I could move heavier objects now, and my reach stretched even farther than before.
I made my way to Dylan’s study, determined to examine those damning documents once more.
But the drawer now had a more sophisticated lock-clear proof he’d raised his guard.
Just as I channeled my psychic power to unlock the new lock, a searing pain suddenly lanced through my very soul.
It was excruciating and tearing pain, as if someone were stirring my consciousness with a hot iron rod.
I writhed in midair, screaming soundlessly.
What was this feeling? Why did it suddenly hurt so much?
As the agony gradually receded, I felt utterly drained, a hollow weakness settling over me.
Did using psychic power drain my soul energy, just like physical exertion tired the living?
This revelation forced me to rethink my revenge plan.
more careful about
As night fell, Lilith awoke from her sedative-induced slumber and insisted on taking a stroll in the garden, claiming she needed to get some fresh air.
Ironically, Jerry walked beside her as they strolled through the rose bushes-the very ones where my ashes had been scattered.
“Jerry, do you believe in ghosts?” Lilith suddenly asked.
Jerry looked surprised. “Why the sudden question?”
Hugging her arms tightly to her chest, Lilith glanced nervously around. “I can’t shake the feeling… that Emily is right here, especially when I’m near these roses.”
I drifted between them, close enough to see the surprise in Jerry’s eyes.
Those same eyes that once gazed at me with such tenderness were now completely devoted to Lilith.
Jerry took her hands in his. “Look, Lilith, Emily is gone. Even if her soul does exist, she can’t harm you. You’re the rightful heiress of the Donovan family and my fiancée. Don’t let the dead taint our happiness.”
The dead, the words sounded like shards of glass scraping against my soul when they came from his lips. I reached for his throat, but the instant I made contact, an unseen force violently repelled me.
I guess I still couldn’t touch the living directly—at least, not yet. For now, all I could do was haunt them by manipulating objects.
Lilith and Jerry continued their stroll, and before they knew it, they came beneath an ancient oak tree at the garden’s edge.
That was the spot where Jerry and I used to play when we were younger, and the trunk still bore the letters we carved there long ago.
“What’s this?” Lilith spotted the carving on the tree. “E and J… Emily and Jerry?” Her voice shot up, sharp with disbelief.
Jerry’s face flushed with discomfort. “That was from way back.”
Flames of jealousy burned in Lilith’s eyes. Even if I was dead, Lilith still couldn’t stand the past Jerry and I shared.
Suddenly, she whipped out a pocketknife and began frantically clawing at the bark, desperate to obliterate the carved letters.
“Lilith, what are you doing?” Jerry rushed over and tried to stop her.
“I won’t allow any trace of you two to exist,” Lilith shrieked hysterically. “You’re mine. Mine forever.”
Watching her hysterical outburst gave me a twisted sense of satisfaction.
This was the woman Jerry chose-a lunatic who would be jealous of the dead.
Summoning every ounce of my will, I snapped a thick branch from the oak, sending it crashing down right at
Lilith’s feet.
Lilith let out a terrified shriek and stumbled backward, tripping and collapsing to the ground. Jerry rushed to pull her up, and they bolted from the garden in panicked haste.
Back at the manor, Lilith completely lost it. She locked herself in the bathroom, muttering to her reflection in the mirror.
“I know it’s you, Emily,” she shrieked hysterically at the void. “You’re dead. The dead should rot in hell. Stop haunting me!”
I willed the bathroom faucet to suddenly turn on, sending a torrent of icy water gushing out.
Terrified, Lilith slumped to the wet floor, her nightgown instantly soaked through. She huddled in the corner, sobbing like a terrified child, her whole body trembling with fear.
With sobs, she cried, “I apologize, okay? Is that what you want to hear? I shouldn’t have… poisoned you, but I had to. I couldn’t let you take everything from me.”
She poisoned me! She admitted it! I made the bathroom lights flicker violently, and in the mist on the mirror, one word slowly appeared-MURDERER.
Lilith’s terror only deepened at the sight. With trembling hands, she frantically scrubbed in the mirror, but the accusing word kept reappearing, as if etched by an unseen hand.
“Mom! Dad! Help me!” Lilith shrieked, desperately pounding on the bathroom door.
Mary and Dylan came running at the screams and burst through the door, only to find Lilith drenched to the bone and on the verge of complete mental collapse.
“She’s back… Emily… She’s here to get revenge on me,” Lilith babbled hysterically, her voice trembling with fear.
Mary pulled Lilith into a protective embrace, while Dylan’s face darkened with ominous fury.
He stormed out of the bathroom and grabbed his phone. “Dr. Smith, get here immediately. Lilith needs heavy sedatives. No, not just sedatives-she needs a psychiatrist immediately. Her wedding might have to be postponed.”
Postpone the wedding? A cold thrill ran through me.
That was exactly the first win I wanted.
But this wasn’t enough, not nearly enough.
Lilith shall pay a far steeper price for her crimes. And Dylan and Mary-those traitorous accomplices—they
Chap
too shall face my wrath.
At midnight, an uneasy silence once again settled over the manor
Under heavy sedation, Lilith sank into a drugged sleep while Bob remained on night watch.
After everyone had left, he discreetly took out a small voice recorder from the medical kit and placed it on the nightstand beside Lilith’s bed.
He whispered, as if he knew I was listening, “Miss Emily Donovan, if Miss Lilith Donovan reveals any proof… I’ll record it. This might… help your case.”
I willed the bedside lamp to flicker once as my response.
Bob nodded and left the room.
I drifted over to the window, my gaze falling on the patch of rose bushes in the garden below.
My ashes lay there, mingled with the earth beneath those roses.
But my soul refused to rest or be silenced.
Lilith thought the worst that could happen was the wedding postponement. But she was wrong-the real nightmare was only just beginning.
- Emily Donovan, would unleash every shred of my psychic power to drag the truth into the light and reclaim the justice that was taken.
Even if it would drain my soul dry, even if the pain was more than I could bear, I wouldn’t stop it.
Because the dead could be far more dangerous than the living.
