The Voice of a Ghost
My phone buzzed, shattering the calm of the morning.
I glanced at the screen, and my breath caught.
Ethan Gray.
The name glowed across the display like a curse, like the echo of the dagger that had ended my life. My blood turned to ice, then fire.
For a moment, I couldn't move. The world blurred around me, everything fading except that name. Ethan. My fiancé. My murderer.
He was alive. Of course he was. And he was calling me.
My thumb hovered over the screen, trembling with fury. In my past life, I would have answered with a bright smile, blind to his deceit. But not this time.
This time, I would not be the naive Olivia Hart.
I pressed accept.
"Olivia," his voice slid through the speaker, smooth as silk, sharp as glass. "I've been trying to reach you all morning. Did you forget our meeting?"
My stomach churned. The sound of his voice brought back everything the press of his hand against mine, the warmth of his kiss, the cold steel buried in my chest.
I forced my tone steady. "Meeting?"
He chuckled softly. "At the café, remember? You promised me last night."
Last night. Of course last night, eighteen-year-old Olivia had still been foolishly in love with him, no doubt agreeing to every word he said.
A bitter smile touched my lips. "I remember."
"Good." His voice dropped lower. "Don't be late. You know I hate waiting."
The call ended before I could reply.
I stared at the screen, nails biting into my palm until pain grounded me.
Michael's voice echoed in my head, from years ago: *He's no good, Olivia. He's a snake. Stay away from him.*
I had laughed at him then, calling him jealous and childish.
But Michael had been right.
And I had been blind.
Not anymore.
---
The café near campus was crowded with students and the smell of coffee. I stepped inside, and there he was.
Ethan Gray sat by the window, sunlight gilding his features. His blue eyes glittered as if the world belonged to him. That smile sharp, practiced l had once melted me.
Now, all I saw was poison dressed as charm.
"Olivia." He stood, pulling out a chair for me. "You're late."
"I had business."
His smile didn't falter. "What business could be more important than me?"
I sat, meeting his gaze without flinching. "What did you want to discuss?"
He leaned forward, his hand brushing mine across the table. "Us."
"Us?"
"Don't play coy." His voice lowered. "You know I love you."
My lips curled faintly, though I forced my mask to stay calm. Once, those words would have set my heart aflame. Now they only fanned hatred.
"Of course," I said smoothly. "I know."
He grinned, certain he had me wrapped around his finger.
Good. Stay blind, Ethan. Because the day you see me for who I truly am, it will already be too late.
---
By the time I left the café, my mask was still intact. Ethan kissed my cheek before I walked away, and I let him. My skin burned where his lips touched, but I didn't flinch.
Outside, I exhaled the poison of his presence.
Step one: keep him close. Step two: slit his throat when he least expects it.
---
That afternoon, I waited outside the gates of Hartwell Academy.
Students poured out, shouting and laughing. And there he was Michael hair tousled, bag slung over one shoulder, his grin boyish and warm.
When he saw me, he froze. "Olivia? You're… here?"
"Picking you up." I smiled.
His brows furrowed. "You never pick me up. You're always busy."
"Can't I just spend time with my little brother?"
Michael squinted, suspicious. But then his eyes narrowed further. "You saw him, didn't you?"
My pulse skipped. "Who?"
"Ethan." His voice was sharp, low. "I can tell. Every time you see him, you come back with that… look." His fists clenched. "I told you, Olivia. He's no good. That bastard he doesn't deserve you."
For a second, my throat closed.
In my past life, I would have defended Ethan. I would have called Michael childish, jealous, even cruel. I would have pushed him away.
But now?
Now, I wanted to hug him.
"You're right," I whispered.
Michael blinked. "Wait… what?"
I forced a casual smile, ruffling his hair. "Nothing. Let's go."
But inside, my heart ached with regret and gratitude. He had always seen what I refused to. This time, I would not ignore him. This time, I would protect him, too.
---
His friends trailed behind us Blake, laughing too loudly, nudging Michael's shoulder. Angela, quiet and shy, hugging her books like a shield. Isabella and Allegra followed, identical and beautiful, glaring daggers at each other when Michael wasn't looking.
"Hey, Olivia!" Blake waved cheerfully. "You're way prettier than Michael described!"
Angela elbowed him, whispering, "Don't embarrass yourself."
Michael groaned. "Ignore him. He's an idiot."
I chuckled softly, watching the little group. Their world was loud and messy jealous glances, stolen smiles, laughter bubbling at nothing. It was life. Life I had missed in my past existence, trapped in Ethan's web.
Not this time.
---
But then, a sleek black car rolled up to the curb.
The tinted window lowered, and the air grew colder.
"Olivia," a voice like honey dipped in venom called.
Lily.
My stepsister leaned against the car door, her lips painted crimson, her eyes glittering with amusement.
"Sister," she drawled, "what a surprise. Did you come to fetch me too?"
Michael stiffened at my side, his jaw tightening. "What is she doing here?"
Lily's gaze slid to him, her smirk widening. "Oh? The little brother has grown some claws."
Michael took a step forward, fists clenched, rage flickering in his eyes.
I touched his arm, stopping him. Not here. Not yet.
My lips curved into a calm, deadly smile.
"Of course," I murmured. "After all… family should always look out for each other."
But inside, my mind whispered only one thing:
The war starts with you.