Part 2Six Years in the Grave

I wanted to stay by Jenny’s side to comfort her, but my ghostly form was pulled against my will, tethered to Grant as he drove to the prison.

"Hazel? Oh, her. She died six years ago."

Grant’s face darkened dangerously. "Look at you. Bribing state officials now."

"No wonder Jenny dared me to come here and ask. You guys had this perfectly rehearsed!"

Looking at Grant’s furious expression, I actually found it laughable.

If I had that kind of power, how would he have forced me into prison in the first place?

Seven years ago, on the night of my birthday, Grant stormed into the house. He used Jenny’s sick mother as leverage to force me to take the fall for a hit-and-run Roselyn committed.

He promised Roselyn had only made a mistake and swore he would get me the minimum sentence.

But standing in court as my defense attorney, Grant completely waived the right to argue my case.

I desperately tried to hire another lawyer to appeal, but Grant froze every single cent in my bank accounts.

When I confronted him, screaming until my lungs gave out, he just looked at me like I was being unreasonable. "If a lawyer actually defends you, the prosecutors will dig deeper. They'll find out you weren't the one behind the wheel."

"You're going to prison anyway. What does a few extra years matter? I've handled everything. Inside, you'll live just as comfortably as you do on the outside."

But from my very first day as an inmate, I was at the absolute bottom of the food chain.

Anyone could use me as a punching bag. Scars, both visible and hidden, mapped my entire body.

I begged the guards over and over to call my brother. The only answer I ever got was, "Your brother says he's too busy. Stop bothering him."

Back in the present, the guard on duty took a deep breath, trying to handle Grant’s arrogant attitude.

"Look buddy, the system logs are crystal clear. Six years ago, Hazel died from a fatal puncture wound to the throat with a sharp object."

Grant paused for a second, then actually laughed.

"This fake database page you guys coded is pretty impressive. But if you're going to lie, at least make it believable. Where would someone get a sharp weapon inside a maximum security facility?"

"Besides, Roselyn comes here every year to drop off money and gifts for Hazel. If she's dead, why haven't we ever received a single notice?"

The guard finally lost his temper.

"I don't know any Roselyn. Hazel is dead! Deceased! Do you speak English?"

Grant’s face turned ugly. "You really won't drop the act until it ruins you. The warden and I go way back. Keep lying for her, and I'll have him fire you before lunch."

The guard crossed his arms, stepping up to the glass. "Wow, you are a piece of work. If you're so sure, go ahead. Call the warden. Have him run the search himself."

"If he finds anything different, I'll hand over my badge and walk out myself!"

Seeing the guard’s unwavering confidence, a flicker of doubt finally crossed Grant’s eyes.

Right then, his phone buzzed.

[Grant, come home quickly. Roselyn is having bad cramps.]

Forgetting the guard completely, Grant spun around and practically sprinted to his car.

The moment we walked through the front door of his penthouse, I saw my fiancé, Tristan. The man I hadn't seen in seven years.