Chapter 5: The Locket That Wouldn't Let Go

I was forced to follow the housemaid to the study.

Before I went in, I ran into an old friend outside.

It was none other than my childhood friend, Samuel Boone, who grew up with me.

My mentor and I called him the Reaper behind his back.

Because when he got mad, he could practically kill us.

Why was he here?

I was puzzled.

There was a sound of smashing from inside, accompanied by Nathaniel’s furious shouts.

A butler, clutching his head, rushed over to Samuel. "Mr. Boone, please spare us... Mr. Holloway doesn’t want to see you."

The Reaper always hid his emotions.

But today, I saw his face actually change. Then he finally shouted:

"Nathaniel Holloway, you once promised me: if one day you couldn’t protect Marlowe, I would take her away. Please keep your promise."

I was stunned. Had he really said that?

Since I was a child, my father sent me to the mountains to learn self-defense.

At that time, mentor only accepted two students, me and Samuel.

Samuel was cold; I was the opposite, always trying to please mentor.

So our mentor always told Samuel, "Marlowe’s young. As her brother, you should look out for her."

Thus, when learning on the mountain, Samuel always let me have my way.

When I returned home, he followed me to the base just to protect me.

Then I got married.

One day, Samuel got drunk and called Nathaniel out.

Later, when Nathaniel came back, there was a bruise on his face. When I asked, he said he accidentally bumped it.

I didn’t think much of it and believed him.

Now it seems, it was my always-cold friend who did it.

But now, Nathaniel wasn’t just some field strategist.

If he angered him, Samuel might not survive today.

I was anxious.

Sure enough, as I expected.

With the sound of footsteps, Nathaniel strode out of the study.

He pointed at Samuel angrily: "Samuel Boone, are you trying to defy me?"

That was a serious accusation. I suddenly had a headache.

"I beg you, Nathaniel, let Marlowe come home. From now on, let us go our separate ways."

After he finished, the atmosphere was so tense that even my ghost felt uncomfortable.

Nathaniel let out a low, bitter laugh.

He said: "Marlowe is my wife; no one can take her away."

The Nathaniel in front of me was full of gloom. I was surprised—he still acknowledged me as his wife?

How ridiculous!

Besides, my friend was not one to be trifled with.

His furious roar nearly burst my eardrums.

I didn’t doubt that even the guards at the distant gates could hear him.

"Your wife is now sitting on the lady’s throne.

Marlowe was never your wife. Even if she was, the moment you chose the estate over her, she became your discarded wife, your stepping stone, your shame.

Nathaniel, you can break her, but you can’t take away her freedom."

These words were truly rebellious.

Maids and staff all kept their heads down, afraid of being implicated.

I watched Nathaniel’s face closely.

His expression suddenly became calm.

My heart rang with alarm; I wanted to warn Samuel to run.

But I forgot, I was already dead.

My hand passed through Samuel’s body. No matter how I shouted, he didn’t hear.

In the end, I watched as the guards dragged Samuel away.

Just like they did to me.

I could only watch as my loved ones suffered for me.

Now, my tears were gone. Only blood tears flowed.

Only now did I understand, maybe Nathaniel wanted to deal with not just me.

He wanted to deal with the forces behind me.

Like Samuel, like my father, like the Marlowe family’s men.

The third day after my death.

The new master filled the house, widely recruiting beautiful women.

Groups of young women arrived at the estate, all for Nathaniel to choose from.

Today, I felt my soul grow more solid.

When Nathaniel was reviewing paperwork, I could stir up a gust of wind to mess with him.

Or, when someone brought a photo album of debutantes, I could trip the person.

Watching the albums fly everywhere, I was really happy.

But some things still got under my skin.

For example, the women Nathaniel chose looked familiar to me.

But I couldn’t quite place them.

I felt a bit gloomy.

The fourth day after my death.

My father came.

As soon as he entered the study, he knelt to pay respects.

But Nathaniel pretended not to see him, keeping his head down reviewing files.

My father, after years of hard work, had old leg injuries and couldn’t bear kneeling for long.

My heart ached. My ghostly aura flared, and I knocked the file from Nathaniel’s hand.

He frowned, stunned for a moment before coming back to his senses.

Only then did he act as if he had just seen my father, exclaiming in surprise: "Colonel Marlowe is here? Why did no one announce it? Quickly, give him a seat."

Hypocrite!

I cursed him silently.

My father knew him well, thanked him, and got straight to the point.