Chapter 9
With her father’s body placed in temporary preservation, Allison returned to the home like a ghost–numb, hollow, dragging what felt like the remnants of herself through the doors.
Alexander had already located Sarah and resumed preparations for his staged death.
Cornelius’s sudden intervention had rattled them both.
Alex knew the old man well enough–his approval now didn’t guarantee he wouldn’t change his mind tomorrow.
Time was ticking
He needed to get Sarah out of ther
ecountry.
The second Allison walked into the house, both Alex and Sarah froze.
She looked like death.
“Jesus,” Sarah muttered. “You trying to play ghost in broad daylight?”
Allison didn’t respond.
She just walked past them, her steps heavy and mechanical
As she passed Alex, she paused.
Her eyes met his–blank, haunted–and for a split second, a flicker of something darker flared in her expression.
“Hey, Alex…” she said quietly, voice hollow, “Do people really turn into ghosts after they die?”
He blinked, caught off guard.
Seeing her so broken, he assumed she was clinging to him again.
“People die and disappear,” he said gently. “Don’t dwell on it too much.”
“I see.” She gave a small pod and turned away.
Something about it left him unsettled.
“Allison,” he said cautiously, “don’t do anything stupid. Promise me you’ll live.”
She gave a twisted smile
Live for him?
Not even close.
The wedding was scheduled within the week.
Alexander was still playing the part of a dying man–pale skin, faked coughs, dramatic vomiting,
He even faked coughing up blood on occasion.
It was so convincing that Cornelius kept flying in top–tier specialists, desperate to extend his grandson’s life just a little longer.
Sarah’s dress was a handcrafted couture piece flown in from Europe–exactly her taste, dripping in crystals and lace.
The venue? A private ceremony at the exclusive Observatory Manor, built just for her.
The guest list was small.
Just a few of Alex’s old friends… and Allison.
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She stood quietly in the corner throughout the entire ceremony, like she wasn’t even there.
Her eyes never left Alex–not with longing, not with grief,
She was just… waiting.
Waiting for him to die.
The officiant led them through their vows, the ring exchange, and the final declarations.
The moment Sarah and Alex turned to leave the terrace-
He collapsed.
Blood poured from his mouth and nose as he dropped to the ground, sending the crowd into chaos.
He was rushed to the hospital.
As they wheeled him into the ER, he turned to Allison.
“I’m sorry, “he whispered. “I should never have done this to you. You’re so young, and now you’ll be a widow…”
His eyes locked onto hers.
“If I get another life… don’t marry me next time.”
Allison said nothing.
He tried to grab her hand, but she stepped back
“I had sperm frozen,” he added with a weak smile. “You could still have a child. And someone to keep you company.”
“Sarah will leave once I’m gone. Don’t hold it against her.”
Tears slipped from the corners of his eyes, as if he were truly saying goodbye.
Sarah sobbed uncontrollably, clutching his hand like she couldn’t breathe without him.
She passed out before the nurses could even get him through the door.
Allison looked down at him and spoke softly, calmly.
“Go ahead, Alex. I’ll be just fine.”
She stepped aside, and watched him vanish behind the operating room doors.
Two hours later, he was declared dead.
וד
Cornelius collapsed on the spot and was rushed to the neighboring ER, triggering a new wave of panic inside the hospital.
But Allison? She just stood there in perfect silence.
She didn’t cry.
Didn’t move.
Once the crowd had dispersed, she turned and walked calmly to the hospital’s administrative office.
She signed the death certificate herself.
She oversaw the body’s cremation.
She met with the legal team and filed the inheritance papers–her shares, her assets,
s, everything that was hers by right.
All of it was transferred immediately.
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Cornelius had suffered a mild stroke, and with no one else fit to handle the arrangements, the Rockwood family gave Allison tull
authority over the funeral.
The funeral was grand–so grand that nearly everyone in Kingston had heard of Alexander Rockwood’s death. Mourners flooded the Rockwood estate, shoulder to shoulder, their condolences filling the air like smoke.
Halfway through the service, Allison quietly slipped away.
She returned to her room, where a bridal gown awaited–sent that morning by the Vanderbilts.
She changed alone. No veil. No makeup. Just the gown, the silence, and a crimson bouquet resting in her hands
Then, without a word, she stepped through the corridors of the Rockwood estate one last time–walking not toward grief, but toward something else entirely,
Her heels echoed in the hall as she walked out the front door–passing the mourners, passing the press, passing the man she had just “widowed.”
By the time she reached the car, whispers had turned into roars.
“She’s getting remarried?”
“Her husband’s body isn’t even cold yet!”
“Has she lost her damn mind?”
But Allison never looked back
She climbed into the waiting car and adjusted the hem of her dress.
Then, with a calm, detached voice, she spoke–almost like she was speaking to a ghost,
“Alex, your performance is over.”
“From this moment on… we’re nothing.”
“And everything you owe me?
She smiled faintly.
“You’re going to pay it back. Every last cent.”
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