Chapter 1: Return of the Ghost

I saw Derek at a cocktail party—the man who’d vanished for two years.

It was one of those upscale Friday nights where everyone hid behind perfect smiles and sharp suits, the clink of glasses and a jazz trio filling the air. He stood across the room, just as tall and magnetic as ever, but with a hardened edge that hadn’t been there before. For a moment, the whole world shrank down to just us, the rest of the party blurring into background noise.

He stood beside his fiancée, her arm looped through his. The matching ring on his finger glared under the lights, cold and unyielding.

The chandelier’s light scattered over both of them, glinting off the icy white gold of his band. They looked like they’d stepped out of a luxury magazine: flawless, untouchable, and painfully real—reminding me of everything I’d lost.

The questions started flying, everyone eager to see if wedding bells were in the air.

You could practically feel the curiosity swelling, people gathering like they’d practiced this scene a hundred times—snapping photos, tossing out not-so-subtle hints about the engagement. Laughter bounced off the marble floors, the crowd buzzed like a high school cafeteria after prom rumors break out.

His fiancée smiled shyly, then turned to me. "Ms. Carter, won’t you drink a toast with us?"

She was all Southern charm—her voice soft but laced with steel, her eyes sharp and watchful. The moment she called my name, everyone’s attention snapped to me. The air thickened, like we were on the edge of a scandal.

I raised my glass. "Wishing you both a lifetime of happiness and love that never fades."

I kept my voice steady, channeling every ounce of my grandma’s old-school Southern manners. The crystal glass was suddenly so heavy, but I forced a smile—the kind you master at American cocktail parties, hiding heartbreak behind perfect teeth.

Derek looked up and met my eyes, his gaze cold as ice.

In that split second, time crawled. He didn’t flinch, didn’t blink—just stared, his blue eyes sharp and unyielding as a Michigan winter. It was like he was seeing right through me, not at me at all.

Only I knew that the man about to become someone else’s husband had once whispered my name in the dark, two years ago.

No one else in the room had a clue—only I remembered the heat of his hand in mine under a table at a past awards dinner, how we’d shared secret promises before everything crashed and burned.

**Chapter One**

After leaving HorizonTech, my startup crashed hard.

It felt like every safety net vanished overnight. My days blurred into frantic Zoom calls, my savings account bleeding dry. The American dream sure came with sharp edges.

Investors bailed without warning, and our research and development ground to a halt.

The mood in the office soured. Half my team started searching for side gigs. Someone left a box of Pop-Tarts on the breakroom table—a silent SOS that snacks might be all we’d have left soon.

I hustled for an invite to an investors’ cocktail party, showing up in borrowed formalwear and clinging to the hope I could turn things around.

My dress still had the store tag tucked in—insurance, in case I needed to return it for rent money. I splurged on a cab so I wouldn’t arrive sweaty from the subway, practicing my pitch into my phone all the way.

But halfway through the party, Derek—the CEO of HorizonTech who’d disappeared two years ago—walked in with his fiancée.

The whole room shifted like someone hit a dimmer switch. He was back: older, sharper, wrapped in a suit that probably cost more than my monthly payroll, wearing a smile that never touched his eyes. Every conversation in the place screeched to a halt.

Everyone rushed over to greet them, surrounding the pair.

It was like a celebrity had shown up. People surged forward, champagne glasses in hand, desperate for a piece of the moment. The buzz in the air was electric, and I felt it in my bones.

"It’s been two years, but Derek is as impressive as ever."

Admiration hung heavy in the air. I caught my reflection in a wine glass—tired, hopeful, wary eyes staring back.

"I heard Derek just got engaged to Ms. Grant last week. When’s the big celebration?"

There was laughter and a few cheers, the same kind you’d hear at a small-town football game, everyone elbowing for their moment. Someone hummed the wedding march, and the crowd lit up.

"Derek sure knows how to pick a partner. Ms. Grant’s talent is obvious to everyone!"

Aubrey took the praise with a practiced smile, nodding like she’d done this a thousand times. It was that Midwest grace—polite, polished, and just a little too smooth.

"Yeah, Ms. Grant’s original game, 'Nebula Realms,' has topped the download charts and reviews since it launched."

Some folks by the bar high-fived, like they’d coded the app themselves. I spotted a local news anchor tapping notes into her phone, already crafting tomorrow’s headline.

Aubrey Grant’s eyes found mine through the crowd. "Ms. Carter, since we used to work together, won’t you drink a toast with us?"

She called me out with the precision of a queen bee. I felt every pair of eyes zero in, waiting for a show.

She lifted her glass, her diamond ring catching the light. "You used to be Derek’s favorite, didn’t you?"

Her ring flashed, as bold as a social media post. The edge in her voice stung. The crowd caught on quick, murmuring, waiting for fireworks.

I smiled at her, then glanced at Derek. "Thank you, Derek, for your guidance back then. Here’s to you both!"

I forced the words out, steady as I could. I could almost hear my mother in my head: Keep it classy, Natalie. I watched Derek’s eyes flicker as my glass met my lips.

I downed my wine in one go and added, "Wishing you both a lifetime of happiness and love that never fades."

The wine burned on the way down, making my eyes sting, but I didn’t let it show. The toast hung in the air, formal and final. A few people clapped, awkward and unsure.

Derek looked up and met my eyes, his gaze icy and sharp.

There was something jagged in his stare—a warning, a regret, a memory I couldn’t name. My cheeks flushed, but I refused to look away. I wouldn’t blink first.

The room went dead quiet, the party frozen in time.

You could’ve heard a pin drop. The playlist jumped to a slow song, and suddenly everyone got real interested in their drinks. The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife.

I set my glass down and gave everyone an apologetic smile. "Excuse me, I need to use the restroom."

My smile was all small-town manners, a shield I’d worn for years. I slipped through the crowd, feeling eyes on my back, but nobody dared follow.

In the bathroom, I ran the faucet and tried to calm my racing heart.

The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, reflecting off the spotless tiles. I splashed cold water on my face, counting breaths. Even here, the party noise thudded faintly through the door.

Nobody knew Derek and I had been lovers.

No one would ever believe the secrets we shared—late-night escapes after meetings, whispered jokes, dreams scribbled on napkins. All erased in an instant.

Two years ago, we’d been in a car accident on the interstate.

Near exit 43, just past midnight—one of those pitch-black nights where the world shrinks to the beam of your headlights. That night still haunted my dreams.

After I woke up, Derek was gone—like he’d never existed.

He didn’t just ghost me; he vanished from everyone’s lives. No calls, no texts, nothing. One day there, the next, a void.

It wasn’t until six months after I left the hospital that I heard anything about him at all.

I limped back into the office, chip on my shoulder, and found his absence had become legend. The rumor mill churned out wild theories every day.

"I heard Aubrey flew to Switzerland again last week to be with Derek."

People whispered in the halls, trading rumors like gossip columnists. Switzerland sounded like code for something you’d never understand.

"Yeah, his assistant said he overheard Aubrey acting all sweet on the other end."

There was envy in every word. Nobody likes being left out—especially at our office. The stories spread like wildfire.

Then, the project I’d bled for—'Nebula Realms'—got handed to Aubrey Grant.

They didn’t even tell me to my face. Just an HR memo and a sterile email. I read it twice, numb. It felt like my insides had been scooped out.

'Nebula Realms' became an American flagship game overnight.

The launch party made the local news—food trucks, balloon arches, cosplayers. My creation, paraded around with someone else’s name on the banner.

Aubrey got called the "Gaming Goddess" and "Genius Game Creator."

Her face was everywhere: billboards, magazine covers, featured interviews. I was microwaving dinner in my pajamas, wondering how I’d lost everything.

Matt, head of R&D, patted my shoulder. "Look on the bright side, Natalie. There’s no such thing as fairness at work."

He was older, survivor of a dozen layoffs, always spinning bitter truths as advice. He offered me gum and a tired grin.

I clenched my fists. "How is this any different from stealing my child?"

My voice was sharp. The game wasn’t just work—it was my life, every sleepless night poured into code.

"She’s got Derek backing her, Natalie. We can’t compete with that."

Matt’s voice dropped, like the walls might be listening. He shrugged, defeated. In tech, power always protects its own.

Matt sighed and left the product team.

I watched him pack up, tucking a family photo and a tiny cactus into a battered box. The office felt hollow without him.

That night, I called the number I knew by heart.

I clutched my phone by the window, city lights blinking below. Every ring was a silent plea for a miracle.

"Sorry, the number you have dialed is temporarily unavailable. Please try again later."

The robotic voice was cold, final—a slap every time.

I listened to the robotic voice, numb, as if each word was a slap. I hit redial, desperate for a different answer.

The cold, mechanical voice echoed in the air.

It lingered, filling the silence in my apartment, making me want to scream.

I sat on the windowsill, watching dawn creep over the city.

The clouds glowed gold and lavender. A garbage truck rumbled by, a jogger’s feet slapped the pavement. The world moved on, leaving me behind.

Finally, I gave up. Tears slipped down my cheeks.

I didn’t bother wiping them away. For a moment, the world outside was as indifferent as I felt inside.

On my last working day before Christmas, I finished my resignation. As I left, I placed the beaded bracelet Derek made me on my desk—a tiny, lopsided thing, but it was my goodbye.

The office was decked in plastic holly and a fake tree, but no one noticed me slip out. The bracelet was handmade, a little uneven, but I left it behind as a silent farewell.

It was a bracelet Derek made for me before the accident, after I’d begged him. He’d complained he didn’t know how to string beads, but he tried anyway, tongue sticking out in concentration. I used to wear it for luck, back when I believed in such things.

Aubrey Grant pushed the door open, snapping me back to reality.

She breezed in, confidence and perfume leading the way. Her heels struck the hardwood, each step a declaration.

She moved to the mirror, peeled off her scarf, and showed off a trail of messy kiss marks on her neck.

She flaunted them, head tilted just so, her reflection smug. In America, that kind of display was bold—maybe even a challenge.

Under the lamp’s glow, the marks stood out, dark and unmistakable.

They looked painted on, like some kind of twisted trophy. I wondered if she did it just to get under my skin.

Catching my stare, she smirked, dabbing at her lipstick. "Derek was a bit rough last night."

Her tone dripped with smugness, a jab meant to cut. I rolled my eyes, refusing to play her game.

"I’m not interested in your private life."

My voice was flat. I grabbed my purse, making it clear I was done with this scene.

With that, I picked up my bag and made for the door.

My footsteps echoed, each one firmer than the last. I was done letting her rattle me.

"Ms. Carter, I’m looking forward to competing with you soon."

She called after me, voice sweet as sugar but sharp as a tack. I didn’t look back.

Aubrey took out her lipstick, calmly touching up her makeup in the mirror. "But I just heard your side is short on funds."

She sounded bored, like she was discussing the weather. Her words stung, though—the way she flicked her wrist, reapplying lipstick with perfect poise, made me grit my teeth.

I didn’t bother to respond, only tossing back, "We’ll see."

The words hung in the air behind me. The hallway stretched out, but I kept my head high all the way to the elevator.