A Ghost at His Wedding

I could only stare, my eyes wide with disbelief. It was only at this moment that I truly understood the depths of Dorian's hatred for me. He hated me to the bone—so much that my death was worthy of a party.

The thing is, I was dead. He just refused to believe it.

The car stopped outside the Vera Wang flagship store on Madison Avenue.

Dorian strode inside without hesitation.

My mind flashed back to the day he brought me here, right after we'd secretly gotten our marriage license.

Back then, he couldn't wait to see me in a wedding dress, holding me excitedly and telling me I was the most beautiful bride in the world.

But now, he gazed tenderly at Lorelei, who stood before him in a wedding gown. He tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear and murmured, "You're gorgeous."

Lorelei lowered her head shyly. When she looked up again, her eyes were glistening with tears.

"Dorian, I can finally marry you."

I watched in horror, helpless, as Lorelei leaned in and kissed Dorian's cheek.

I wanted so badly to stop it, but my hand passed right through his body. I watched as he slid a Harry Winston diamond ring onto Lorelei's middle finger.

How could this be happening? Why would Dorian marry her?

That woman was the one who murdered his mother!

Dorian Westbrook, wake up!

I opened my mouth and screamed at him hoarsely. Grief and rage tore through me.

But soon, a chilling numbness set in. All I could do was watch.

Lorelei admired herself excitedly in the mirror.

Suddenly, she asked, "By the way, Dorian, is she doing okay?"

We both knew who "she" was.

Dorian's expression remained hard, his patience clearly wearing thin.

"Of course she's fine! It's just one of her little tricks!"

"So, are we still inviting her to our wedding?"

Dorian lowered his gaze, and a vicious sneer twisted his lips.

"Of course. After all, she's the guest of honor."

I understood immediately. He wanted me to witness his wedding. The one I had always dreamed of.

Back then, Dorian's mother, Eleonora, had vehemently opposed our marriage, believing I wasn't worthy of the Westbrook family. So we only got a license, no wedding.

After her death, having a real wedding with Dorian became an impossible dream. She had died from a stroke.

On the night she passed, phone records showed I was the last person she had spoken to. So, naturally, Dorian decided I had angered her to death.

The day Eleonora was buried, during a winter blizzard, Dorian forced me to stand at her grave for an entire night.

I remember meeting his gaze in the storm, his dark eyes filled with nothing but hatred.

He had said to me, "Elowen Beaumont, from this day on, we are mortal enemies."

From that moment, I went from being his lover to his greatest enemy. He hated me, humiliated me, but refused to let me go. He even brought different women back to our home, right in our bed.

When Dorian had noticed my red-rimmed eyes, he had laughed, patting my cheek with mocking cruelty. "Are you sad, Elowen? You brought this on yourself."

I tried to explain, but Dorian's actions only grew more extreme. He never doubted his own conclusions, simply because he knew Eleonora had disliked me.

How could he possibly believe it? That the woman he now cherished was his mother's killer?

After dropping Lorelei off, Dorian unblocked my number. He tapped the steering wheel with one hand while dialing my number with the other.

A moment later, I watched as Dorian's brow furrowed. He hurled his phone against the Bentley's window, venting his frustration.

"How dare you not answer my call, Elowen! You've got a death wish, don't you?"

But he didn't know I would never answer his calls again.