Chapter 2
I'm rising. That's the first thing I notice—this strange sensation of floating upward, like being pulled by invisible strings. Then I stop, suspended in mid-air, and look down.
Oh God.
My body. My actual body, lying twisted on the boxing mat in a pool of blood that's already starting to turn dark around the edges. The rope marks around my neck are angry red welts, and my wrists... the handcuff cuts are still seeping. I can see where Ryan's boot connected with my ribs.
This can't be real. I'm really dead? But I can still think, still see...
The morning sun streams through the gym's skylight, those California rays that used to feel so warm on my skin. The house is dead quiet—Ryan fired all the staff months ago, claiming it was for "privacy." Really, he just wanted to make sure no one could witness what he did to me.
*At least... at least I can still see Lily. That's something.*From the living room comes the sound of Ryan stirring, his snoring cutting off abruptly. Even dead, the sound of him waking makes my spirit recoil with instinctive fear. Some habits die harder than the body, I guess.
Ryan's first move after waking is checking his phone—23 missed calls from his agent. Some B-movie casting director wants him to audition for "abusive ex-husband number three." The irony would be funny if it weren't so sick.
He stretches, yawns, then walks into the gym like he's heading to grab his morning coffee. When he sees my body, there's no shock, no horror, no trace of human emotion. He pulls out his phone, snaps a few photos, then deletes them.
"Damn. Went too hard last night." His voice is casual, almost bored. "Oh well, saves me from listening to her whine about calling those producers again."
He studies the heavy sandbag hanging in the corner, and I watch his eyes light up with genuine excitement.
"150 pounds... Hollywood's latest training equipment." A smile spreads across his scarred face. "Perfect excuse."
Ryan grabs a fresh weighted sandbag from the storage closet and starts the grotesque process of stuffing my body inside. His movements are efficient, practiced, like he's done this before. Or at least thought about it enough to have a plan.
"You piece of street trash," he mutters while working. "Thought you could crawl back into the Blackstone family? Dream on. Now you're finally useful—helping me stay in shape."
He bleaches the blood stains, rearranges the gym equipment, then hoists the "new sandbag" into position where the old one hung. To finish his performance, he posts on social media: "New gear arrived! 150-pound heavy bag, keeping those action star skills sharp 💪"
He really... he really turned me into training equipment. Even in death, he won't let me rest.
Watching Ryan's satisfied expression triggers a flood of memories from four years ago. The engagement party that should have been Stella's.
All the entertainment media was covering "Hollywood power producer's daughter engaged to action star." Stella in her Vera Wang engagement dress, glowing like a princess surrounded by admirers. Ryan was still at the height of his fame then—handsome, successful, unstoppable.
I remember how Stella used to worship him:
"Ryan, you're incredible! That building jump scene was amazing! I'm going to put all your posters in my room!"
But everything changed after Ryan's on-set incident. Some actress got seriously injured during a "coaching session" with him, nearly had her face destroyed. The PR team controlled the story, but the Blackstone family started to worry.
Vincent's words from the family meeting still echo: "We can't let Stella take that risk. Ryan might have violent tendencies, but we can't afford to offend the Hayes family..."
Elena had chimed in: "Ruby's more suitable. She's been through street life—she can handle difficult men."
Their public statement was a masterpiece of spin: "After careful consideration, we believe Ruby and Ryan are better matched. Stella is still young and should focus on her career development."
Stella had played her part perfectly, fake tears and all: "I respect the family's decision... Sister Ruby is more mature, she'll be a better wife..."
But I saw the flash of relief and triumph in her eyes.