Chapter 1
At 11:30 PM, the lights still blazed in my personal office on the 42nd floor of the luxury office building in downtown Austin, Texas.
City lights twinkled like scattered diamonds outside my window, and the air conditioning hummed steadily, but none of it could ease the exhaustion weighing down my soul.
I was exhausted, meticulously organizing the important contract materials for tomorrow's meeting with oil tycoon Mr. Johnson.
"Mr. Johnson values integrity records above all else. This Texas ranch project documentation has to be perfect..." I muttered to myself, rubbing my aching neck.
Mark always said I was too meticulous, but I knew how important these details were. Especially now, with the company having barely survived bankruptcy six months ago, every client was a lifeline.
Suddenly, a violent chest pain struck.
"Ah—" I clutched my heart, feeling like someone was hammering my chest with a sledgehammer. Breathing became difficult, as if the air had turned to glue that I couldn't draw into my lungs.
My phone slipped from the desk and crashed to the floor with a sharp sound.
My vision began to blur, but my gaze still instinctively found Mark's photo on my desk—taken at last year's Christmas party where I was beaming with joy while he checked his phone.
"Mark..." my lips barely moved, "tomorrow's presentation..."
My heart felt like it was being squeezed by an invisible hand, the pain making my entire body tremble. I wanted to call for help, but my voice stuck in my throat. My body grew heavier and heavier, as if invisible hands were dragging me into an abyss.
"Mark, I've prepared everything for you..." I whispered with my last ounce of strength, "you're going to succeed..."
Then everything plunged into darkness.
When consciousness returned, the environment around me had become gray and surreal, as if time itself had stopped. Everything in the office building was shrouded in a strange mist, like the filter effects in old movies.
I felt myself floating, my body becoming translucent.
"What is this?" I stared at my hands in confusion—they appeared and disappeared like water vapor. "Am I... am I dead? Why can I see myself?"
I looked down at my desk and was shocked to see my own corpse slumped there, pale and lifeless. The scattered documents still maintained the order I'd arranged them in during my final moments, with Mr. Johnson's contract materials neatly placed on the desktop.
'Is that really me?' I reached out to touch my own body, but my hand passed right through it.
A powerful pulling force suddenly emerged, like an invisible rope tied to my soul. I instinctively knew where this force originated—Mark.
"Mark, where is Mark?" I called out in my mind. "I need to tell him about the Johnson contract..."
Even in death, I still worried about tomorrow's presentation, still concerned about Mark's business. This care had become deeply imprinted on my soul, becoming an instinct of my existence.
I discovered I could move through walls, light as the wind. Following that mysterious pulling force, I drifted toward Mark's office, my mind still focused on the unfinished work.
In Mark's luxurious executive office, warm yellow light from the banker's lamp cast soft shadows. The client materials I'd just prepared were scattered across his desk, but the scent of perfume filling the air made me uneasy.
That wasn't my perfume.
I floated into the office, and the scene before me made my soul tremble.
Mark was passionately kissing the blonde assistant Jessica, their bodies pressed tightly together, completely absorbed in each other.
"No... this can't be..." My soul trembled, but they obviously couldn't hear my voice.
Just then, a knock interrupted their embrace.
"Mark? Are you still there?" The voice of business partner Mr. Thompson came from outside the door.
Mark and Jessica quickly separated. Mark hastily straightened his wrinkled shirt while Jessica elegantly smoothed her hair, as if nothing had happened.
"Come in, Thompson!" Mark adjusted himself and opened the door.
Mr. Thompson entered, his gaze lingering on Jessica for a moment. "Sorry to interrupt, Mark. I wanted to discuss tomorrow's Johnson project."
"Of course!" Mark immediately became professional. "Thompson, have you met Jessica? She's our company's angel investor."
My soul nearly exploded. 'Angel investor? Since when?'
Jessica smiled sweetly, her voice sickeningly coy: "Without my emergency investment of $150,000, Mark's company would have gone bankrupt long ago."
$150,000? My soul roared. That number was so familiar, reminding me of something terrible.
Mark looked at Jessica with deep affection, his eyes showing a tenderness I'd never seen: "Yes, Jessica saved my business, saved my life."
"What?! $150,000?!" My anger erupted from the depths of my soul. "That's my money! The money I got from selling everything to save you!"
Memories flooded back like a tide: six months ago, when Mark told me the company faced bankruptcy, I didn't hesitate to sell all my commission earnings, client contract rights, even my personal savings. A full $150,000—I transferred every cent to him without keeping a penny for myself.
And now he was telling everyone it was Jessica's investment?
Thompson nodded, clearly impressed with Jessica: "To have such business acumen at your age is truly admirable. Mark, you're lucky to have such a partner."
"We're not just partners," Mark's hand gently caressed Jessica's shoulder. "She's the most important person in my life."
Watching this scene, I felt my soul being torn apart. I had just sacrificed my life for his business, yet here he was kissing another woman and attributing my sacrifice to her.
Jessica smugly took Mark's arm: "I just wanted to help talented people achieve their dreams. Mark is so excellent, he deserves my investment."
'Investment?' I screamed internally. 'That's my blood money! Every penny I saved working ten years!'
I remembered those late nights working overtime, all the rest time I gave up, all the social events I declined to save that $150,000.
Thompson checked his watch: "I should go. Tomorrow's presentation is important. The materials Lisa prepared are really detailed."
Hearing my name, my soul shuddered.
Mark's expression stiffened slightly but quickly returned to normal: "Yes, Lisa is very dedicated to her work."
That's it? Such a casual mention of me? I had just died at my desk preparing for tomorrow's presentation, and all he could say was that I was "dedicated to my work"?
After Thompson left, Mark and Jessica returned to their previous intimacy.
"Baby, after tomorrow's presentation, let's celebrate," Mark kissed Jessica's forehead. "I want to take you to that new French restaurant."
"Sounds wonderful," Jessica smiled like a blooming flower. "But we need to be careful not to make Lisa suspicious."
"Lisa?" Mark laughed dismissively. "She only cares about work, she won't notice us. And..." he paused, "honestly, I don't have feelings for her anymore."
Those words stabbed into my soul like a knife.
I floated there, watching them embrace and kiss, listening to them plan their future, while I—who had just given my life for his business—was easily ignored and betrayed by them.
That $150,000 wasn't just money. It was my trust in our marriage, my investment in our future, my unconditional support for Mark. And now all of it had been repackaged as Jessica's "angel investment."
I realized I had been completely betrayed.
Not just marital betrayal, but the betrayal of all my efforts and sacrifices over ten years. Every client relationship I built for Mark, every late night I worked for the company, every penny I saved for our future—all of it had been transferred to another woman.
They had no idea that some bonds couldn't be broken by death.
