Part 3The Best Ghost Money Could Buy

Ethan woke up, tears tracing his temples.

He wiped his eyes and whispered hoarsely: "Molly."

"Hmm?"

I was trying on the new dress.

Seeing me, Ethan sighed, closed his eyes, and covered his face with his arm.

His breathing hitched, then calmed.

I put on the new Chanel jacket and twirled in front of him.

"Do I look good?"

He looked up. In the sunlight, his eyes were a clear, light brown.

His voice was teasing: "You look better without it."

I blushed: "Stop that!"

He laughed, just looking at me.

I sighed: "It's my birthday in two days."

"I know."

"Go visit my grave, would you?"

He didn't answer.

I sighed again.

"Ethan."

I held my hand up to my chest, indicating a height.

"My grave grass is already three feet tall. You haven't visited once."

Ethan really was stubborn.

I was an orphan and not close to many people.

The police could only find Ethan to claim my body.

I managed a dark laugh. Figures Ethan would be the one to send me off.

He claimed my body from the morgue.

My body was brutal—my head bashed, covered in bruises.

He couldn't see me then.

I watched his hand tremble as he pulled back the sheet.

A normal person would have been hysterical. But Ethan was cold.

He just stood there, staring at me.

He should have at least cried, just for show.

We were together for three years!

After a long time, he gently brushed my nose with his index finger.

He said: "I hope you died for a good cause."

The empty room offered no reply.

He calmly told the police about my life.

"She likes pink."

"Her job was a reporter."

"She has a small mole on her thumb web."

"I was her boyfriend, not her husband. We had no legal cohabitation."

It's funny.

Ethan told me upfront: "Don't look for security in me. I don't have it. Don't try to change me with love. I will never get married, so if that's your goal, leave now."

Everyone thought we'd crash and burn.

But he knew me best.

His eyes were hollow, his thin lips reciting my habits.

I wondered if he knew my favorite position.

I couldn't help but criticize him—

Ethan, couldn't you pretend? You're too calm. Won't the police suspect you're involved in the murder?

But my ghost worries were unnecessary for the living.

Finally, Ethan leaned forward, clasping his hands.

"I want to see the security footage of the incident."

Ethan watched the footage and then left.

He never went back to the precinct.

He never came to see me.

The mountain didn't come to me, so I went to the mountain.

I watched him quit his job.

Not for me, of course.

He wanted to start his own company.

Being an investment banker was lucrative, but Ethan wanted to be the boss.

The startup phase was hard.

So, I understood why he missed my funeral.

The funeral home occasionally called him for payment confirmation. He always said: "Use the most expensive option."

He was most attractive when he was being financially ruthless.