“Have you forgotten what you said to me five years ago when you woke up? You told me you’d forget that woman—and marry me.”
“I haven’t forgotten.”
Fletcher’s brows furrowed slightly.
“I know when I had nothing, you emptied your savings for my treatment… you even gave me your bone marrow. I promise I will marry you. It’s just…” he faltered, voice low, “I still don’t understand why Ashley was so ruthless. Why she just… left without a word.”
Watching the pain and confusion knot his face, my heart felt like it was being torn apart.
But I couldn’t say anything. I couldn’t tell him the truth.
Because I was already dead.
All I could do was cling to my resentment, using the faint thread of awareness I had left to watch it all unfold.
That night, I saw Fletcher take out the necklace he’d had made for me five years ago and fasten it gently around June’s neck.
Then he pulled her close—and kissed her.
“June, I know you’ve loved me with all your heart these past five years. Don’t worry—our wedding will still take place next month, just as planned.”
Reassured, June’s expression softened.
“Then I want you to promise me—don’t go looking for Ashley anymore. Once we’re married, I’ll give you a child and we’ll live a happy life as a family of three…”
With that sweet dream in her mind, June drifted off to sleep in Fletcher’s arms.
But as soon as she fell asleep, Fletcher’s eyes flickered with thought.
He gently moved her off him, got up and went downstairs.
Dialing his assistant’s number, he said, “You said the hotel housekeeper was using Ashley’s phone?”
The next day, Fletcher received the complete information on the hotel housekeeper.
“Zoey Stone. Female. Thirty-two years old…” The assistant read from the file, his tone cautious.
Fletcher’s brow tightened with every detail.
“We ran a thorough check, sir. As far as we can tell, this woman– Zoey has no connection to Ashley. Honestly, I doubt they even know each other.”
His expression didn’t change. Fingers tapped lightly on the desk. “Okay. You can go.”
From that day forward, Fletcher’s attention began to settle more and more on Zoey.
One evening after work, she was cornered in a narrow alley by a few drunk louts, seconds away from being assaulted.
Sitting in his black luxury car, Fletcher watched, face unreadable.
Just as they reached for her dress strap, a fist came down hard. The drunks were kicked to the ground in an instant.