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The Phantom Wife He Cannot Save

Chapter 2 

Word Count: 857    |    Released on: 29/04/2026

a monotonous, sterile procession. Aracely lay on the gurney,

e subject line read: Final Divorce Agreement. It was from Keenan's la

dn't o

he phone down and handed it to the nurse wal

ung open, then closed behind her with a

scrubs and a surgical mask. Only her eyes were visible

er and took A

" Cheyenne said, her vo

f I don't... if I don't make it, promise me you'll make Keenan

ked like a smile. She squeezed back, her grip s

pushing a clear fluid into her IV line. Aracely felt a coldness spread up her arm. The lights above began to blur, their

thought was of her

e world

her breath for a count of ten, then looked at the other surgeon in

gleaming under the surgical lights. Bu

a placed a syringe into it. It had no label. Th

ound the port on Aracely's IV tube and in

teady rhythm, suddenly screamed. The green li

arm filled th

. It felt like her entire being was being pulled apart. A pres

k popping from a bottle. She was flo

r own body on the tab

erfectly still, watching the

ty. They shouted medical terms, prepared defibrillator paddles. But

scream. Help me!

ghost, a silent, horrified

resuscitation attempt, subtly reached down and switched off

ing of the heart

a single, high-pitc

at l

in the room, a de

. She was dead. And her

id of any grief. Instead, a flicker of someth

one on the wall an

rifted closer, s

and businesslike. "The liver and both kidneys are via

Aracely. This was never about a

at Cheyenne, a silent, spectral scream tearing from he

She rubbed her shoulder, a flicker of confusion i

clipboard. On it was a form. Or

e was waiting. For the sig

e murmured, her voice a low, silky promise. "By the time anyone

eath warrant. And her husband, the man who wished

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The Phantom Wife He Cannot Save
The Phantom Wife He Cannot Save
“I handed my terminal brain cancer diagnosis to my billionaire husband, hoping for a shred of comfort. Instead, he sneered, accused me of faking it for a better divorce settlement, and told me to die quickly. Heartbroken, I turned to my sister, a top surgeon, who promised to save my life. But on the operating table, my soul was ripped from my body as I watched her inject me with a lethal drug. She didn't just murder me. She harvested my organs, forged my medical records to claim I was a hysterical liar who ran away, and went straight to my penthouse to take my place. She looked at my blank organ donation consent form and smiled. "Don't worry, he'll sign." And he did. My husband welcomed her into our bed and announced their grand wedding, while my own mother celebrated my disappearance as a chance to secure his wealth. I hovered in the air, screaming silently. Why did my own flesh and blood slaughter me to steal my life? Why did the man I loved hate me so much that he'd happily marry my killer? As my husband stood by the window, daring my runaway self to show up at their wedding, my spectral heart turned to stone. I decided not to fade away. I would stay right here as a ghost, and watch their monstrous charade burn to the ground.”