Chapter 6: Secrets Unearthed

The next day, a strange ring appeared on Grant’s finger.

The whole company was buzzing.

“Mr. Miller’s ring doesn’t look like a wedding ring.”

“Yeah, I’ve never seen a black wedding ring before.”

Rumors swirled by the water cooler, in the parking garage, even in the group chats. Some thought it was a new kind of fitness tracker, others whispered it was a promise ring from a mystery lover. Leave it to Grant Miller to make mourning look stylish.

Only Grant’s best friend, after hearing the news, slammed the table in fury.

“Grant, are you out of your mind?”

“How long has Natalie been dead? You’re still being loyal to her? Did you forget what she did to you? She almost killed you!”

“If you’re mentally ill, go see a doctor, please!”

Oh, right.

Back then, I really did almost kill Grant Miller.

A few years ago, our relationship wasn’t so bad.

We went out of town to meet a client, but got caught in a landslide and trapped in a pit.

Grant pushed me up from below, told me to go get help.

But I never came back.

When he was finally rescued, forty-eight hours had passed.

His right shoulder had been injured by a second landslide, and to this day he can’t use his right hand to sign documents.

And I sat peacefully in the rescue tent, drinking hot coffee, holding a shiny new contract.

From that day on, things between me and Grant went downhill fast.

Like we wouldn’t rest until one of us was dead.

I sat cross-legged behind Grant’s friend, tilted my head and called, “Husband, look at him—he really seems to hate me.”

Now that Grant wore the ring, he could see me anytime, anywhere.

Grant said nothing.

His friend rolled his eyes, slammed the door, and stormed off.

I scooted over to Grant, making a face at his friend’s back.

“Don’t listen to him—he just can’t stand to see you doing well.”

Grant didn’t respond, instead staring at his right hand.

“Natalie, can you tell me why you didn’t come back for me that day?”

I kept my smile, answering as if I’d said it a thousand times. “I hit my head on a rock and passed out.”

Grant rubbed the ring’s pattern, his gaze dim.

“Alright, let’s leave it at that.”

“Grant—”

He took off the ring. “I have work to do. Please leave.”

……

I was in a cold war with Grant.

He didn’t wear the ring for three hours.

Clearly didn’t want to talk to me.

Even when reporting for work, I was absent-minded.

Saint Peter was droning on about endless paperwork. “This month’s outstanding employee selection, remember to submit your materials. Jamie can be promoted too…”

“By the way,” Saint Peter peeked over his computer, his sharp face sporting two big dark circles, “your body still hasn’t been found.”

That snapped me back to attention.

Jamie’s just-raised smile collapsed. “Huh? Boss, you wouldn’t…”

Saint Peter pressed his lips, silent.

The room fell into heavy silence.

I have no memory of my death, don’t know where I died. Even the afterlife’s people couldn’t find my body. There’s only one possibility—no complete corpse.

And in a very tragic way, murdered.

Such poor souls can’t cross the River, only work as a minor official in the afterlife for life.

A lifetime of toil. Pretty miserable.

I grinned. “If you can’t find it, then forget it. I’m about to be promoted anyway—it’s fine.”

I gave Jamie a reassuring wink, even though inside, my nerves were jumping like popcorn in a hot pan. If you can’t laugh about being murdered, what can you laugh about?