My eyes widened in disbelief. Only now did I realize the depth of Eliza's hatred. She loathed me so much that even my death was, to her, something worth celebrating.
But Eliza… I truly am dead. It's only you who refuses to believe it.
The car pulled up in front of a bridal shop. Eliza stepped out in her high heels and hurried inside, so quickly she nearly twisted her ankle.
The sight was achingly familiar—just like that day long ago, when we secretly registered our marriage and she dragged me into a bridal boutique. Back then, she couldn't wait to slip into a wedding gown and twirl before me with shining eyes.
She told me she was the happiest bride in the world, and that I was the most handsome groom.
But now… she stood in another white gown, beaming as she posed beside Caleb in his crisp ivory suit. Together, they looked like the perfect couple.
"Beautiful," Caleb murmured with a soft laugh, his gaze brimming with affection. "Eliza, I've waited a long time for this day."
Stunned, I could only watch as he lowered his head and pressed his lips to hers.
I lunged forward, desperate to stop it, but my hand passed straight through her body. Helpless, I stared as Caleb slid a ring onto her finger.
How could this be? Why him? He was the one who caused her mother's death!
Eliza!
My throat burned, my soul raw with anguish. Yet no matter how I screamed, no sound reached her ears.
I stood frozen, numb, as Caleb stroked her hair and asked casually, "By the way, Eliza… is he all right?"
We both knew who he was referring to.
Her expression turned flat, tinged with impatience.
"What could possibly be wrong with him? He's just pulling some kind of prank."
"Then, for our wedding, should we invite him?"
Her lashes lowered, hiding the emotions in her eyes. Then, her lips curved into a cruel smile.
"Of course. He's an important guest."
And in that moment, I understood. She wanted me to witness her wedding with my own eyes.
After all, it was the very thing I had longed for most.
Because back then, without her mother's approval, we had only gotten the marriage certificate. There was no ceremony, no vows, no wedding. It became my greatest regret.
But then her mother died, struck down by a heart attack. And on the night she passed, her final phone call had been to me.
So naturally, Eliza believed I was the one who drove her mother to her grave.
At Eliza's mother's funeral, Eliza forced me to kneel before the tombstone for an entire day and night.
The rain poured down as we stared at each other through the storm.
Her eyes were desolate, heavy with hatred. She said, "Gordon, from this day forward, you and me—we're mortal enemies."
From that moment, I ceased being her lover and became her sworn enemy.
She hated me. She tormented me. Yet she refused to let me go. She even brought men home to spend the night.
When she saw my eyes redden, she would laugh softly, pat my face, and mock, "Hurts, doesn't it? But you brought this on yourself. Who else can you blame?"
No matter how desperately I tried to explain, it only fueled her cruelty.
Why would she ever doubt her own judgment? She knew her mother despised me and swore not to ever let me set foot inside the Sutton household.
Eliza had fought her countless times because of me, even threatening to sever ties with her family just to stay by my side.
And yet, the man she had loved most had become, in her eyes, the one who killed her mother.
How could she ever accept that?
When Caleb finally left, Eliza seemed to remember me.
With a show of false generosity, she pulled me out of her blacklist. One hand on the wheel, she used the other to dial my number.
For a while she waited, her brows gradually knitting tighter.
Then, with a sharp slap against the steering wheel, she snarled, "Gordon, if you don't pick up, you're dead."
But Eliza… you don't understand.
It's not that I refuse to answer.
I can't. Ever again.
