I ended it with a paring knife straight to the heart. It was clean, efficient. Three minutes, and I stopped breathing. Liam Sterling got the news and laughed maniacally. "Good! She’s finally dead! Saved me the trouble." He ordered my heart removed, demanding they cremate only the empty shell of my chest cavity. He said I didn't deserve to keep Chloe's heart. But later, he searched the country for mediums and paranormal investigators, holding desperate seances. "Ava, I’m begging you. Come back and see me. Even just in a dream..." Liam wept like a broken child in front of the dogwood tree he’d chopped down with his own hands. But my body was incomplete, my ashes lost in the system, my soul untethered. Though I was right beside him, he couldn’t see a thing. 1 Word got out that I plunged a fruit knife into my heart and died. Liam Sterling stunned for a few seconds, then burst into wild, theatrical laughter. "Good! Excellent! The bitch is finally dead." As he laughed, tears streamed down his face. I knew he was crying tears of joy. He was just that relieved. After all, in the six months since we’d married, he had used every method imaginable—both psychological and physical—to torment me. His goal was always to push me toward death without ever crossing the legal line into murder. Like when he bought me a kitten, and the next day I found its taxidermied body hanging outside my bedroom window. Like celebrating my birthday with wine and roses, only to have photos splashed across the morning news of him French-kissing another woman at a club. He didn't poison me directly. Instead, he mandated a specific diet from our live-in housekeeper, exploiting my weak system with food combinations that caused severe inflammation and kidney strain. He moved me to an isolated, modern glass house in the Hollywood Hills to hide my deterioration from neighbors. Every night, he played high-frequency noise emitters that vibrated the floors, nearly driving me clinically insane. And then he decimated my father’s legacy, watching my brother, Ethan, go from a respected CEO to drowning in debt, eventually framing him for corporate fraud and sending him to prison. In Liam's eyes, I deserved all of it. Because, according to him, my family had "engineered" the death of his beloved stepsister, Chloe, to steal her vibrant, healthy heart for me. 2 When I died, only Mara was home. She was deaf and mute, a caretaker Liam specifically hired to watch me. Her daily routine was mechanical: cook the damaging meals Liam prescribed and ensure I ate every bite. If I refused the overly salted soups or the high-fructose concoctions meant to spike my inflammation, she would kneel before me and slap her own face frantically until I gave in. I knew Liam was watching it all via the hidden cameras. Whether he was dining out, in a board meeting, or entertaining clients, he would tune in and smile with satisfaction. This wasn't my first suicide attempt. Trapped in that beautiful, glass prison, my body pushed to its absolute limit, I wanted a release. If I died, everyone would be free. I had slit my wrists before, dyeing a bathtub full of water deep red. But the drain plug was faulty; the water leaked out, and the blood coagulated. I woke up cold, but alive. I tried sleeping pills, swallowing a whole bottle. I found out later they were years expired and ineffective. In a fit of despair, I jumped from the second-story balcony. I landed in the dense landscaping below, only shattering my right shoulder blade. Liam had stood over me then, smiling cruelly. "Ava, stop pretending. Someone like you is too selfish to ever really die." He said if I truly had the conscience to die for my sins, I wouldn't have plotted to kill Chloe and lived on borrowed time for so long. I explained a thousand times that Chloe’s death was a tragic accident. He never believed me. What kind of accident is so convenient? Why did a wire transfer of one hundred thousand dollars from my family hit Chloe's account hours before the crash? Why did she sign the organ donor agreement in the hospital, alone, without a single family member present, moments before she died? He decided my wealthy family had simply bought Chloe's life. And so, the gears of fate began to turn the day he enacted his meticulous revenge plot—by kneeling before me, pressing his cheek to my chest, and weeping over the sound of Chloe's heartbeat. He didn't know that heart was a gift Chloe willingly gave me. A gift wrapped in her deepest love for him. "Ava, when I’m gone, please love Liam for me... He’s going to be so lonely." He wasn't the only one who knowingly walked into a trap. I did, too. 3 For the final time, I chose the cleanest, fastest way. When the blade pierced my heart, I couldn't even speak. Less than three minutes. The blood pumped out, and I was gone. Liam was taken in for questioning. The police were suspicious; the initial forensics didn't look like a typical suicide. Self-inflicted stab wounds usually show "hesitation marks"—shallow cuts where the body instinctively fights the pain before the final thrust. Mine had none. It was one clean, decisive blow straight to the heart. "Maybe she just really, really wanted to die," Liam told the detectives with a cold smirk. Yes. A person who truly wants to die will grit their teeth against the pain and push through. Liam had an airtight alibi. Mara had no motive. My suicide note was in my pocket, though most of it was soaked in blood, leaving only the words "Last Will" legible. Liam was released. But before he left the station, he demanded an autopsy. He demanded they remove the heart. He said I didn't deserve to leave this world carrying Chloe’s heart inside me. At the funeral home, my brother, Ethan, escorted by police, saw my chest, caved in and empty beneath my burial dress. He broke down instantly. "Liam Sterling, you animal!" Ethan lunged, his handcuffed fists managing a glancing blow to Liam’s jaw. "Give my sister her heart back! She can’t go to her rest broken like this..." Ethan was facing multiple felony charges due to Liam's setup. The police had granted him a brief, supervised visit for the funeral. "That thing never belonged to her," Liam said icily, staring down at my body lying in the satin-lined coffin. I was surrounded by expensive flowers, their stems filling the void in my chest. At my brother's insistence, the funeral home had hired a high-end mortician. I looked beautiful, peaceful, thanks to their work. I watched as Liam approached the casket. He leaned down, staring at my cold face. Then, he tucked something inside the lining of my dress. It was a small, handwritten note. Liam was an atheist. He didn't believe in gods or ghosts. But to keep me down, he was willing to try anything. "Stay away from Chloe," the note read. "Don't you dare bother her." "Liam, you will regret this!" Ethan screamed as the police dragged him away. "You will regret everything you did to Ava!" Regret? In the empty viewing room, Liam stood for a long time, staring at my memorial photo. Why would he regret it? From the moment he first approached me with gentle smiles, he had been planning for this very day. If he regretted anything, it was probably that he didn’t get to kill me himself. Liam had Chloe’s heart cremated separately. He buried the small urn of ash in front of Chloe’s existing grave, claiming he was returning her whole body to her. As for my ashes, he didn't want them. He told the crematorium staff to just "get rid of them." But regulations don't allow for just dumping human remains. The staff placed me in a temporary plastic container and stored me on a shelf in a back room. Since Ethan was in prison, no one came to claim me. That afternoon, a warehouse worker moving inventory bumped a shelving unit. My container fell. The lid popped off. A draft from the loading dock door caught me, and I was scattered into the wind. Liam returned to the empty glass house in the hills. It was dark. Mara had mechanically prepared dinner. He didn't touch it. After a long silence, Liam finally spoke. "Mara, I'm moving out in a few days. This house... it's yours. For your retirement." 4 Mara wore high-powered hearing aids; she wasn't totally deaf. After Liam spoke, she signed rapidly. I couldn't read sign language, but her expression clearly said: "I don't want it." "It’s the last thing I can do for Chloe," Liam said, pushing the property deed across the marble island. "I... I really wanted to be with Chloe, to call you Mom again." The food on the counter went completely cold. Liam looked up, his eyes fixing on the empty space where my soul hovered. I knew he couldn't see me or feel me. If souls really could communicate with the living... then why hadn't Chloe ever come to him? Chloe, I’m sorry. This is as far as I could go. I tried my best. Suddenly, Liam stood up. He pushed Mara’s cooking aside and opened the sub-zero freezer. He pulled out a large freezer bag filled with homemade ravioli. I had made those two months ago. Before he fully revealed his claws, we had a brief period of what felt like genuine warmth. I was a good cook. Growing up with a bad heart meant I missed a lot of school and couldn't play sports. The kitchen became my playground. When we first lived together, Liam was often too busy to eat hot meals. I would bring food to his office and sit quietly by his side while he ate. He loved my ravioli. So I made batches of it, freezing them for him. Honestly, even if he hadn't wanted me dead, this transplanted heart didn't have a long warranty left anyway. Chloe once told me that Liam went hungry a lot as a kid. Even now, as a wealthy, powerful titan of industry, his table manners were nonexistent. The water boiled. The ravioli floated to the surface, mirroring my short, turbulent life. He ate ravenously, stuffing himself until he gagged. He vomited into the sink, then slid down to the kitchen floor, clawing at the tiles, howling. "You're finally dead! You're finally dead, Ava Hayes!" My transparent form floated above him. I watched him roll onto his back, an arm thrown over his eyes. He cried until the veins in his neck bulged and spasmed. The next second, he scrambled up, bolted out the sliding glass doors and into the yard. He grabbed a shovel and swung it wildly at the young dogwood tree, snapping its trunk in half.
? Continue the story here ?? ? Download the "MotoNovel" app ? search for "389165", and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel