Chapter 2

"Be my partner—not just in business."

Theodore knelt on the beach, the diamond ring in his hand glittering under the setting sun. Waves lapped gently at the shore, and the orange-red sky painted a perfect picture.

"Do you even need to ask? I've been ready forever!" Tears welled up in my eyes as I extended my trembling hand.

The ring slid onto my finger, a perfect fit. Theodore rose and pulled me into a tight embrace. "We're going to build the ultimate power duo in entertainment, Evie. Your legal brilliance, my market instincts—we'll conquer all of Hollywood."

His eyes held only me, that intensity and passion making me feel like the luckiest woman alive.

"I love you, Theodore Blackwood."

"I'll love you forever, Eveline Harrow. Soon to be Eveline Blackwood."

That kiss had been like a fairy tale. But years later, reality proved far uglier—I died alone in the darkness.

The irony almost made me laugh.

As my consciousness faded to black, I could sense them approaching.

Theodore's Porsche winding through the canyon roads, Lydia beside him in the passenger seat, her laughter carried on the night wind. They were coming home. Our home. No—his home now.

My spirit drifted through the familiar oak door just as headlights swept across the driveway outside. I watched through the window as Theodore's car pulled into the garage, heard the engine cut, then the slam of car doors.

"God, I'm exhausted," Lydia's voice echoed from the entryway. "That dinner felt like it lasted forever."

"The industry mixers always do," Theodore replied, his keys jingling as he tossed them on the marble console table—the one I'd picked out during our third year of marriage.

I floated in the living room, watching as Lydia kicked off her heels carelessly, leaving them scattered on the Persian rug I'd carefully selected. She stretched luxuriously, as if she owned the place.

"This house is incredible," she murmured, running her fingers along the leather sofa. "I could definitely get used to this."

Theodore loosened his tie, walking to the bar cart. "Nightcap?"

"Absolutely." Lydia wandered over to my bookshelf, her manicured fingers trailing across the spines of my law journals. "Theodore, why do you keep all these boring books around? They're such an eyesore."

She pulled out my Harvard Law Review, then grabbed the thick volume of Entertainment Law Case Studies I'd compiled—my handwritten notes still visible on both covers.

"These give me such a headache," she said with a dismissive laugh, then began systematically destroying my life's work. Pages from the Harvard Law Review scattered to the floor. She ripped my case study annotations into pieces, crumpling each page deliberately before tossing them toward the trash.

Don't touch those! Those represented years of my expertise, every late night I'd spent building legal precedents. I'd spent months compiling that case study book—every annotation was the fruit of my struggles.

But my rage was nothing but silent screaming. She couldn't hear me.

Theodore handed her a glass of wine—the vintage we'd been saving for our anniversary. "Eveline's always been a bit of a workaholic," he said with casual dismissal. "Never could get her to relax."

A workaholic? Those books had built his empire! Every case I'd won, every connection I'd leveraged, every sleepless night I'd spent advancing his career—reduced to nothing more than an annoying quirk.

"Well," Lydia said, settling onto the sofa with my silk throw draped over her shoulders, "looks like she won't be cluttering up the place much longer."

The casual cruelty in her voice made my spirit recoil. But her destruction wasn't finished.

She walked to the display case and picked up my Harvard Law School Distinguished Alumni Award—the recognition I'd worked ten years to earn. Without hesitation, she tossed it into the trash bag with a sharp clatter.

Theodore saw it, paused for one second, then shrugged. "Whatever. Clear it out. Make room for your trophies."

"Really?" Lydia jumped up and threw her arms around his neck. "Can we redecorate this whole place? I want a dedicated award wall, and a much bigger walk-in closet..."

My spirit nearly exploded. Everything representing my professional achievements—to her, they were garbage worth nothing but disposal.

The scene triggered a memory from three years ago, when Theodore's company was still a startup. I'd walked into his cramped office carrying a thermos...

"Theo, you forgot dinner again." Just one desk, two chairs, a second-hand computer, and a few artist headshots on the wall.

"Evie! Why aren't you asleep?" Theodore looked up, eyes bloodshot. "I'm studying market strategies, trying to figure out how to sign more promising talent."

"That's why I made you soup." I opened the container, the aroma instantly filling the tiny office.

Just then, Lydia pushed the door open. Back then she was still a small-time actress, newly signed to Theodore's company.

"Theodore, about tomorrow's audition..." She saw me, her expression slightly awkward. "Oh, Eveline's here too."

"Sit down, have some." I gestured warmly. "I made plenty."

Lydia tried a spoonful and wrinkled her nose. "Too bland. I usually eat heavy flavors. Theodore, can you even stomach food this boring?"

I felt embarrassed. "Sorry, I focus more on nutrition when I cook..."

Theodore gave her shoulder a playful squeeze. "Don't be picky. Eveline's mature and considerate—she won't take offense at a little girl's tantrums."

At the time, I thought he was complimenting me. Now I realize he was already conditioning me to tolerate Lydia's inappropriate behavior.

"Thank you, Eveline. Maybe I can learn to cook next time." Lydia smiled sweetly.

"Of course. I can teach you some of Theodore's favorite dishes."

How naive. I'd actually taught my rival how to please my husband.

Back in the present, Lydia walked to the balcony where a photo of Theodore and me hung—taken the day the company turned profitable. Without even looking, she smashed the frame to the floor. Glass shattered, the photo scattered.

"These old pictures are such an eyesore." She kicked the shards aside. "Theodore, let's take new ones and hang them here."

Theodore bent down, picked up the photo, glanced at it, then expressionlessly tossed it in the trash. "Fine. Tomorrow we'll shoot new ones."

Not a single second of hesitation.

The memory in that photo flooded back—that night two years ago on this very balcony, when Theodore had held me close, his eyes glistening as he gripped my hand: "Never leave me. I'll spend my whole life making it up to you. We're going to be Hollywood's ultimate power couple. No one will ever tear us apart."

"I'll never leave you, Theodore. Until death do us part."

But he never knew the price I paid for that "turning point" in his business.

Four years ago, loan sharks called twenty times a day. Company accounts were frozen. That night, two menacing thugs blocked our door demanding payment.

The next day, I secretly mortgaged my equity stake at the law firm for a million in cash.

Theodore never knew that to save him, I lived on instant noodles for months, pouring every penny into his company. I turned down the biggest copyright case of that period—$500,000 in potential fees—because his company was at a make-or-break moment.

Every night at 3 AM, I was revising contract terms, finding legal loopholes, reaching out to industry contacts. I thought I was saving our love.

How ironic. Death did part us, but not at all how I'd imagined.

I screamed with everything I had, desperate to stop them, to tell Theodore about all those sacrifices he'd never know about.

But I was just a drifting spirit. I could do nothing.

I could only watch helplessly as my five years of love and devotion were cleared out like garbage. Watch another woman move into my home, planning to erase every trace of my existence.