Chapter 3

Lewis stared at the coffee cup with the kind of raw hope. His hands shook as he reached toward where I was floating, fingers passing through my form like I was made of morning mist.

"Jocelyn," he whispered, "I can feel you here."

Before I could figure out how to respond—or if I even wanted to—the study door crashed open.

Rebecca swept in without knocking, her platinum hair perfectly styled, wearing a power suit.

"Lewis, darling." Her voice dripped with false concern as she surveyed the mess he'd become. "You look terrible. When's the last time you slept?"

I rolled my eyes. This was Rebecca Black, Lewis's endless infatuation, his "lost love."

Such an exceptional man, yet he couldn't get over this manipulative woman, even hiring her as his personal secretary against everyone's objections in the company.

When I questioned, Lewis simply brushed it off, saying he "pitied her situation."

Pitied her? How ridiculous. Rebecca treated me like an intruder every time she saw me. She always carefully chose moments to create conflict between Lewis and me, implying I wasn't good enough for him, and had even warned me in the elevator once: "If you're smart, you'd know when it's time to leave." But Lewis remained oblivious to all this, seeing only the perfect Rebecca he had fabricated in his imagination.

Lewis didn't turn around. His eyes remained fixed on the coffee cup, as if he was afraid I'd disappear if he looked away. "What do you want, Rebecca?"

"I want to help." She moved closer, and I noticed the tablet in her manicured hands. "The board is concerned about your... state of mind. Especially with the Morrison acquisition closing next week."

That got his attention. Lewis spun in his chair, and I could see the exact moment he shifted from grieving husband back to corporate predator. "What about Morrison?"

Rebecca's smile was sharp enough to cut glass. "Well, there are rumors. About your stability. Some people are saying that losing Jocelyn has... affected your judgment."

The way she said my name—like it was something distasteful she needed to scrape off her tongue—made me want to claw her perfect face off.

"Who's saying that?" Lewis's voice dropped to that dangerous quiet I knew well.

"Does it matter?" Rebecca perched on the edge of his desk, deliberately casual. "What matters is damage control. Lucky for you, I've been working behind the scenes to protect your interests."

Lewis stood abruptly, and Rebecca had to jump back. "My interests?"

"The Morrison deal. I've been in talks with their board, explaining that your recent... loss... might require some adjustments to the terms. For everyone's protection, of course."

I watched Lewis's face go through several expressions before settling on cold fury. "You've been negotiating my deal. Behind my back."

"I've been saving your company," Rebecca snapped, dropping the concerned friend act. "Do you have any idea how this looks? The great Lewis Blackwood, brought to his knees by a dead wife who couldn't even—"

"Finish that sentence." Lewis's voice could freeze fire. "I dare you."

But I wasn't interested in watching their verbal sparring.

I focused on her tablet, the one she'd been clutching like a security blanket. The screen flickered once, twice, then suddenly displayed something that made Rebecca's face go white.

Photos. Dozens of them. Rebecca in compromising positions with Marcus Morrison—Lewis's biggest competitor. Hotel rooms, private dinners, intimate moments that definitely violated several non-disclosure agreements. The photos scrolled faster and faster, a slideshow of betrayal that made Rebecca's betrayal crystal clear.

"How did you—" Rebecca fumbled with the tablet, trying to shut it off, but the device seemed to have developed a mind of its own. "This isn't possible."

Lewis snatched the tablet from her hands, his eyes darkening as he processed what he was seeing. "How long?"

"Lewis, I can explain—"

"How. Long."

Rebecca's composure cracked completely. "Six months. But it's not what you think. I was gathering intelligence—"

"Bullshit." Lewis hurled the tablet against the wall. "You've been feeding him information about my deals. That's how Morrison's been undercutting my bids."

I floated closer to Rebecca, drawn by her fear. She couldn't see me, but something primitive in her sensed that predators were near. Her pupils dilated, and she kept glancing around the room like she was expecting an attack.

"You want to know what's really unstable?" Lewis continued, stalking toward her. "Trusting people who smile to your face while they're stabbing you in the back."

Rebecca backed toward the door, "You think you're so broken up about her death? Your precious Jocelyn was bleeding you dry, Lewis. Her family was stealing you blind while she played the victim. Maybe her dying was the best thing that could have—"

The lights exploded.

Every bulb in the study shattered simultaneously, raining glass like deadly snow. Rebecca screamed and covered her head while Lewis stood perfectly still in the darkness, unafraid.

"Get out," he said quietly. "Before I do something we'll both regret."

Rebecca stumbled toward the door, then turned back. "This isn't over, Lewis. The board will hear about this. About your... episodes."

After she left, Lewis walked calmly to his desk and picked up his phone. "Security? I want Rebecca banned from the building. Permanently. And get me Marcus on the line."

I watched him work in the darkness, making call after call. But between each call, his eyes drifted upward, searching.

"Did you do that?" he asked the darkness. "The lights?"

"I know you're here," Lewis continued. "I can feel you. And Rebecca was wrong about one thing—losing you isn't making me unstable. It's making me focused."

Three days later, I watched from the back of the conference room as Rebecca held her emergency press conference. She was desperate now, backed into a corner by Lewis's systematic destruction of her reputation. Her last play was the sympathy card.

"Lewis Blackwood is not the man you think he is," she told the assembled reporters. "His Ex's tragic death has pushed him into a mental breakdown. He's become paranoid, erratic, dangerous to himself and others."

I focused on the screens behind her, pouring every ounce of my supernatural energy into them.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then, one by one, the monitors began displaying those same compromising photos from her tablet. Her affair with Morrison. Evidence of corporate espionage. Text messages planning Lewis's downfall.

Rebecca noticed the screens and spun around, her face going ashen. The reporters were murmuring, cameras clicking frantically as they captured her humiliation.

But Lewis wasn't in the audience. He was standing in the back of the room, and when Rebecca's terrified eyes found his, he started walking toward the stage.

"You want to talk about dangerous?" Lewis's voice carried across the room as he approached the podium. "Let's talk about corporate espionage. Let's talk about betrayal."

He reached the stage and, without warning, swept every piece of equipment off the table with one violent motion. The reporters scrambled backward as Lewis grabbed Rebecca by the arm.

"You want to use my wife's death as a weapon?" His voice was deadly quiet, but it carried to every corner of the room. "You want to pretend that grief makes a man weak?"

He looked up then, directly at where I was floating, and his eyes... they were different. Not exploring anymore. Not searching. He saw me. Not physically, but he knew exactly where I was.

"Jocelyn," he said to the stunned crowd, his voice carrying a certainty that made my ghostly blood run cold. "Tell me, darling. Who should be next?"

The silence in the room was absolute. Rebecca stared at him in terror. The reporters stood frozen, unsure if they were witnessing a breakdown or something else entirely.

Day five of my ten-day contract, and I was starting to understand that maybe the living didn't need the dead to haunt them.

Sometimes they did a perfectly good job haunting themselves.