Everyone believed Spencer loved me to death.
Little did they know, for four years he hid another woman in a private hospital suite. His business trips were nights in her arms.
Now, I couldn’t wait to see his face when he got the news. News of my death… on our wedding day.
Hayley POV
“Ms. Hayley, your Digital Ghost Protocol is activated. The execution date is set on the day of your wedding with Mr. Spencer. We stage an accident and erase you. Please authorize with an iris scan here.”
I leaned into the scanner. A cold red light swept over my pupils. On the screen, my digital signature instantly appeared.
I left the unmarked building and vanished into the crowd.
At a newsstand, a magazine cover stopped me cold: Spencer and me. The headline screamed: BILLIONAIRE HEIR: A DECADE OF DEVOTION, ALL FOR HAYLEY.
I remembered that photo. It was taken after Spencer successfully proposed. He knelt on a mountaintop covered in white tulips, his hands, usually so steady, trembled uncontrollably as he placed the ring on my finger. When I said yes, tears streamed down his face.
Beside me, two girls at the bus stop were huddled over the magazine.
“Oh my god, the way Spencer looks at Hayley, it’s absolutely melting!”
“I know,” the other said. ” Did you hear about when she got hurt climbing? The blood bank was empty, so Mr. Spencer chartered a private jet to Europe for blood.He stayed by the ICU door for three days. And that observatory Spencer built for Hayley? It’s still one of the hottest dating spots around! This isn’t a romance novel. It’s better!”
I looked away, a ghost of a smile touching my lips.
Everyone believed Spencer loved me to death.
So, no one would believe it. For four entire years, he’d hidden another woman in a private hospital’s VIP suite.
I discovered the truth. Those countless “business trips” were nights spent in her arms. The betrayal didn’t crush me all at once. It was a slow freeze, my heart fracturing into a thousand cold, silent pieces.
I opened the encrypted cloud drive, filled with that woman’s diaries and recordings.
Closing my eyes, my thoughts drifted back. Back then, my family had just gone bankrupt, and relatives were all scrambling to get a piece of the pie.
It was Spencer who directly called in his legal team. He signed the guardianship transfer agreement for me. His voice wasn’t loud, but every word carried immense weight. “From now on, her problems are my problems. I am responsible for her future.”
From that day on, he gave me the world.
He’d drank until he was hospitalized in my stead. He knew all my food allergies. His social media was practically a shrine dedicated to me. To everyone, he was “Hayley’s Knight.”
When he proposed, he kissed my hand, his voice hoarse, pleading, saying he only wanted me for the rest of his long life, and if I left, he would completely lose control.
He was the one who first said he couldn’t live without me, and he was also the one who betrayed me first.
So be it. I would give him a staged death. I would make sure he could never find any trace of me, ever again.
A black Bentley glided silently to my side. The car door opened, revealing Spencer’s sharply defined profile.
“Get in.” He said concisely.
I got into the car. He didn’t ask any questions, just turned up the heat a few degrees and handed me his still-warm coffee.
“Your hands are freezing. Aren’t you afraid of catching a cold?” His voice held a hint of concern.
Spencer squeezed my hand, then pulled me into his embrace, trying to warm me with his body heat.
“You’re so cold… And you didn’t even dress warmly. Are you trying to break my heart?”
I said nothing, just looked up at him.
The concern in his eyes was so genuine, so flawless. And precisely because of that, I found it even more chilling.
Just then, a financial reporter with a camera hurried over, eyes gleaming, peering in through the window.
“Mr. Spencer, Ms. Hayley! I’m a reporter from the Capital Frontier. It’s such a thrill to meet you both! Your love story inspires so many people. Could you spare a minute for a photo?”
I initially wanted to refuse, but after a moment’s hesitation, I nodded.
Spencer, who usually disliked cameras, still obediently pulled me closer and smiled for the lens.
After the photo, the reporter thanked us, her face flushed, her words full of blessings. She wished us a fairytale ending, living happily ever after.
Happily ever after?
I turned my head to look at Spencer. He happened to be looking down at me too, his eyes filled with a tenderness that could drown a person.
As if he, too, believed in this fairytale ending.
Only I knew, our road had reached its end.
Hayley POV
The wedding reception was to be held on a private island Spencer had bought specifically for me.
As soon as we landed, the wedding planning director and her team greeted us, their voices respectful and envious.
“Ms. Hayley, as Mr. Spencer instructed, we’ve prepared a thousand varieties of Dutch tulips, air-freighted here for your selection. Would you like to visit the flower house now?”
I didn’t speak, my gaze sweeping past everyone to Spencer, who stood a short distance away.
He was looking down at his phone, his eyes filled with that raw, undisguised desire. I’d only ever seen that look in his eyes when he viewed photos attached to that woman’s audio diaries.
Noticing my gaze, Spencer immediately put away his phone and hurried over, his face etched with apology. “Hayley, there’s a glitch at the company. A document needs my immediate signature in person. It can’t wait; I have to leave right away.”
With that, he pressed a kiss to my forehead and rushed towards another helicopter, which was already preparing for takeoff, leaving me alone on this island that was meant for me.
The planning director cautiously stepped forward. “Ms. Hayley, shall we-”
I cut him off with a shake of my head.
“No need. I don’t want any of this.”
After all, the star of this grand wedding would be a “missing” bride.
In the car back to the city, my burner phone pinged to life. An encrypted message came, sender unknown. An audio file. Only seconds long.
In the background, the rhythmic drip-drip of an IV machine. A fragile female voice, tinged with sobs, spoke haltingly. “The medicine…it’s so bitter. And my hand…it hurts. But just thinking of you…I can…I can stand it.”
Immediately after, a message from Spencer’s black profile picture appeared.
“Be a good girl. I’ll be there soon.”
I turned off the screen, closed my eyes, and tried to suppress the gut-wrenching pain in my heart.
I thought I’d become numb after reading so many explicit diary entries and listening to so many intimate recordings.
But that bone-deep agony still easily swept over me.
Finally, I forced myself to lean back against the seat and set my phone to silent.
Late at night, I curled up in bed, my eyes red and sleepless. The phone beside my pillow pinged with encrypted message notifications every hour.
I didn’t open them until dawn.
The number periodically sent photos-sometimes a hand hooked up to an IV, sometimes a half-finished cup of warm milk, sometimes the breaking dawn outside a window.
The last photo was accompanied by a line of text. “He says he only finds peace with me.”
I lay motionless, just like that, my eyes red, staring at those photos again and again.
When Spencer returned, I hadn’t changed my position. He seemed to pause for a moment, then lunged forward, pulling me into his arms, his voice tight. “Hayley, who hurt you?”
Had I cried?
I only then snapped back to reality, belatedly touching my cheeks. They were cold and wet.
After a long time, I managed a faint smile. But the smile couldn’t hide the lifeless gaze in my eyes.
“Nothing, I just saw a really touching set of photos.”
Spencer kissed my face, dotingly saying, “What photos made you cry like that? Babe, are you trying to give your husband a heart attack?”
Just as I was about to speak, the butler respectfully knocked on the door from outside. “Sir, the car is ready.”
He hummed in response, then turned to kiss me again, still in his arms. “Hayley, it was my fault for leaving you alone on the island yesterday. As compensation, at tonight’s charity auction, whatever you want, I’ll bid on it for you, okay?”
I didn’t answer.
He took my silence as consent, sweeping me into his arms and personally choosing my gown and jewelry.
Hayley POV
At the auction.
To win a smile from me, Spencer bought every single item in the entire first half of the auction, even though I didn’t spare a single glance for any of them.
During the intermission, a few of Spencer’s childhood friends came over to chat.
“I was wondering who was being so possessive. Of course, it’s you, Spencer.”
“You totally swiped that antique I wanted to get for my mom’s birthday right from under my nose. Guess I missed my chance.”
“Hey, Spencer, give us a break for the second half, okay? We just want to buy one thing!”
Spencer barely bothered with them, focused instead on peeling a blood orange for me. Only after they finished complaining did he slowly lift his eyes and say nonchalantly, “What’s the rush? My fiance hasn’t even started picking yet.”
The group let out a chorus of dramatic complaints but could only reluctantly accept defeat.
Spencer’s lips curved upwards as he held a perfect segment of orange to my mouth.
I turned my head away, my expression cold.
“No appetite.”
The second half began.
Just then, the side door of the venue opened. A slender woman in a simple white dress, guided by a staff member, walked in.
I felt Spencer’s body beside me instantly stiffen.
I looked up, and Mia’s pale yet fragile face drifted into my line of sight.
Mia softly thanked the staff member, declined the empty seats in the front row, and chose to sit alone in the least conspicuous corner at the very back.
Everyone in the room cast curious glances, whispering to each other.
“Isn’t that Mia, the famous artist from social media? I heard she has really poor health and rarely makes public appearances.”
“Why would she be at a place like this?”
“Shh, don’t you know? She has a mysterious patron, rumored to be incredibly powerful. Looking at her, she’s probably here to bid on something for her patron.”
I was about to look away when I saw Mia take out her phone, snap a photo of a painting about to be auctioned, and then send a message.
Almost simultaneously, Spencer’s phone lit up.
He quickly glanced at it, then put it back in his pocket, but his posture unconsciously straightened.
My heart sank.
Throughout the second half, I remained distracted until the final item, the grand finale, was presented.
It was a yellowed manuscript of poetry, said to be the sole surviving copy left by a deceased niche poet-my favorite poet.
The auctioneer passionately described the manuscript’s rarity and uniqueness. Perhaps sensing a flicker of interest in my eyes, Spencer didn’t hesitate to raise his paddle.
“One million!”
A cool female voice rang out from the back row.
“Two million, one thousand.”
It was Mia. Her voice was soft but carried a stubborn edge.
Spencer’s brows furrowed, “Five million!”
“Five million, one thousand.”
“Ten million!”
“Ten million, one thousand.” Mia’s voice trembled slightly, as if she was exerting all her strength.
…
Finally, Spencer, expressionless, made a gesture to his assistant.
The assistant immediately stepped forward and whispered to the auctioneer.
The auctioneer excitedly struck his hammer. “Ladies and gentlemen! Mr. Spencer has exercised his right of first refusal and has just completed a full acquisition of the auction house’s parent company! This manuscript, and all items auctioned today, now belong to Mr. Spencer!”
The room erupted in applause.
Spencer gently squeezed my hand and whispered in my ear.
“Stay here, I’ll go handle the transfer paperwork.”
I watched him stand and leave. At the other end of the room, Mia also stood up, giving me a deep, unreadable look.
After everyone had left, I slowly uncurled my tightly clenched hand, my nails leaving deep, bloody marks in my palm.
I didn’t feel the pain. I just stood up and walked towards the exit.
My phone screen was still on the message I had just received.
“Underground parking.”
Hayley POV
The parking garage was so empty you could hear echoes. Only a Maybach sat in a corner.
Spencer’s driver stood nearby, politely redirecting anyone who tried to approach.
Therefore, no one noticed the faint mist covering the car’s rear window.
A woman’s low sobs and a man’s suppressed gasps drifted out intermittently.
I instantly lost all strength, leaning against a cold pillar, staring intently at the scene unfolding before me.
The car window wasn’t completely closed, revealing glimpses of the interior. Mia was pressed against the window by him, the precious manuscript tossed aside, its pages crushed and distorted.
“Spencer, please… the manuscript will be ruined.”
Spencer’s voice was hoarse and thick, “Isn’t this exactly what you wanted? Now, along with me, all of this is yours.”
With that, he thrust deeper.
I clamped a hand over my mouth, turned, and fled in shame.
I don’t know how long I ran, finally collapsing on the steps of the fire escape, gasping for breath, tears streaming down my face.
I thought everything at the auction had already hardened my heart, but that scene in the car completely suffocated me.
When Spencer and I first started dating, he was as innocent as a schoolboy.
The first time we held hands, his palms were slick with sweat. The first time we kissed, his lips trembled. Our first time truly being intimate was the night he successfully proposed.
I used to often tease him about his restraint, but he would just hold me tight, his voice hoarse. “Babe, no man can hold back when he’s with the woman he loves. It’s just that I love you too much; I wanted to wait until everything was settled, to give you the utmost respect.”
He cherished me so deeply.
But now, reality had slapped me across the face with the harshest truth.
I buried my face in my knees, shaking uncontrollably as I cried.
After what felt like an eternity, I numbly got up and walked towards the restroom. My phone vibrated in my hand.
It was from Mia.
A photo. The back seat of the car was a mess, the manuscript casually tossed in a corner, its cover damaged.
“This car is filled with our scent. And, Spencer promised to give me this manuscript. Now, this unique love is mine.”
I didn’t look again, just turned off my phone.
By the time I’d touched up my makeup and emerged from the restroom, I ran into Spencer, who had returned to look for me.
His hands, sure enough, were empty. The next second, I was enveloped in an embrace, carrying a faint, unfamiliar perfume scent.
Just as I was about to push him away, his apologetic voice sounded above my head. “Hayley, the author’s family for the manuscript changed their mind at the last minute and demanded an exorbitant price, refusing to sell. I promise I’ll find you an even better one next time, okay?”
I took a deep breath, looked up, my voice carrying an almost imperceptible choke. “What if I just want that one?”
Spencer softly cajoled. “Babe, don’t cry. That one actually had a lot of flaws. I won’t allow my girl to own anything imperfect. I’ll send people to search the world for it right now, okay?”
Hearing this, I smiled.
In the past, whatever I wanted, he would immediately place before me. Now, for another woman, he had a thousand excuses.
Just as he was about to say something more, I pushed him away, my voice weary.
“Forget it, I don’t want it anymore.”
I turned and walked away.
“Hayley!”
Spencer called my name from behind, his hurried footsteps following me.
I didn’t stop until, at the corner of the corridor ahead, a figure slowly emerged.
It was Mia.
She was clutching the manuscript tightly, the creases on its cover clearly visible.
The footsteps behind me abruptly stopped.
I paused and glanced back.
Spencer’s face instantly turned ashen. He froze, his gaze fixed on the item in Mia’s arms, utterly flustered and at a loss.
I turned back around, expressionless, and walked past Mia as if I hadn’t seen her.
From behind me came Spencer’s low growl, filled with suppressed fury. “Are you insane? I told you not to appear in front of her!”
I didn’t look back, just slowed my pace, listening to this absurd drama unfold.
Mia’s voice was weak and innocent. “I’m sorry… I just wanted to say thank you to her. She didn’t even notice, did she? I won’t do it again…”
Immediately followed by a pained gasp.
“Spencer, I feel so dizzy… I think I have a fever again…”
The next second, I heard the rustling of fabric-the sound of a man frantically steadying a woman.
“Why are you so hot?”
Spencer’s voice, the anger that had flared just moments before, instantly vanished, replaced only by undisguised urgency and concern.
He didn’t chase after me.
In that long corridor, he stopped pursuing me, turning instead to embrace the “feverish” woman.
I looked at the empty exit ahead, a sarcastic curve to my lips.
No need to look back now.
Hayley POV
Spencer didn’t come home that night. He only said the company had an urgent merger.
I didn’t question him, didn’t argue.
If I was going to disappear completely, I had to erase every trace of myself from this world.
I categorized, packed, donated, and destroyed all my belongings.
Finally, I opened the safe in the study.
Inside were all the design sketches Spencer had given me over the past ten years.
At ten, my first dress drawn with a boy’s unsteady hand.
At fifteen, a pair of high heels he designed. A note beside it read, Let me walk every path with you.”
At seventeen, the blueprints for The Hayley Observatory, his tribute to Halley’s Comet calling me his eternal miracle.
At eighteen,a wedding ring of his own design, with a vow to propose anew each year until I was ready, until I said yes.
…
Without hesitation, I scanned the artworks, packaged them, and anonymously shipped the entire collection to one of the nation’s largest art charity foundations.
Note: Unrestricted donation for public auction. All proceeds to fund art education in underserved regions.
News of the priceless, exclusive manuscripts being donated without compensation instantly went viral online.
I finished everything and was about to rest when the front door burst open.
Spencer rushed in, bringing with him the biting night wind. He grabbed my hand, his voice trembling.
“Hayley, you donated all those manuscripts. What does that mean?”
I looked up at him.
He looked like he’d rushed back as fast as possible, his expensive coat still damp from outside, his face etched with unconcealed panic.
I asked softly, “How did you know?”
“It’s already a trending topic on social media!”
Before I could speak, he pulled me into a fierce embrace, his trembling words filled with terror.
“Hayley, tell me why? Those are our memories, how could you…?”
“What did I do wrong? Tell me, I’ll fix it. I’ll change everything. Just don’t leave me, okay?”
Finally, he almost cried.
But I just gazed calmly into the empty space before me, my expression utterly indifferent.
If he was so afraid of me leaving, why was he keeping another woman outside?
Was he too confident, or did he think I was too foolish?
Now, with just the tip of the iceberg, he was already panicking.
Well, I eagerly awaited the look on his face when he received news of my “death” on our wedding day.
I slowly pushed him away, my face calm.
“You’re overthinking it. Those things were just taking up space. Ideally, they should serve a meaningful purpose, helping those in need. Wouldn’t that be better? Why are you so nervous… do you think I should cling to the past?”
At my last question, his expression shifted slightly, but he immediately gripped my hand tightly.
“That’s not what I mean, Hayley. He said decisively. You know how much I love you! We’re getting married soon, nothing will go wrong.”
I pulled at the corner of my mouth, “If nothing’s wrong, what are you worried about? It’s late, I’m tired.”
With that, I turned and walked away.
Hayley POV
Because of my recent, consecutive strange behaviors, Spencer changed.
For several days straight, he was like a shadow, clinging to me every step of the way.
Until one morning, his phone vibrated.
He opened the message, and the sleepiness in his eyes vanished instantly.
He glanced at me, “asleep” beside him, pressed a soft kiss to my forehead, then silently slipped out of bed and left the room.
The moment he left, I opened my eyes.
I checked my phone. The “Digital Ghost” agency had sent a message. my new identity’s biometric data collection was complete, requiring only a final in-person confirmation.
In a covert biological laboratory.
I stared at the newly generated digital identity on the screen. From gene sequence to iris data, it was completely different from my own.
The entire process went smoothly.
It seemed Spencer would never suspect a thing.
Everything was ready.
As I finished my business and was about to leave, the person in charge called me back and handed me a file.
It was the final report from the investigation I had commissioned into Mia’s background.
I opened the folder. The first page was a medical scan.
Under the “Diagnosis” section, it read. “Pregnancy, 12 weeks.”
And under “Emergency Contact,” two words were signed. Spencer.
They had a child?
I don’t remember how I left, or how I got home.
In the dark room, my phone screen emitted a faint glow. Just as the screen was about to dim, a notification popped up. Mia was live-streaming.
I tapped it open.
Mia glowed in her maternity dress, sharing her pregnancy bliss with an adoring stream. The chat flooded with congratulations.
Then a man’s hand entered the frame. Long fingers, a distinctive scar.
Ice flooded my veins.?I knew that hand.
It had held my face, wiped away my tears, and put a ring on my finger.
But now, this hand was gently caressing Mia’s swollen belly.
“Doctor’s orders, love. Time to rest.”
As this deep, magnetic voice spoke, the chat went wild.
“Wait…is that Spencer Corp’s CEO?”
But the comment was quickly drowned out.
Mia smiled shyly, letting his hand hold hers. “He’s very private. He doesn’t want to show his face.”
Fans began to tease, asking about their love story.
Mia glanced beside her, smiling. “Him? He once loved me so much. In high school, he wrote me love letters, but he was too nervous to say anything, afraid I’d reject him. Finally, I had to snatch his letter and tell him I would…”
My grip on the phone tightened abruptly.
That was our story.
“Plink.”
Tears splattered onto the screen.
In the live stream, Mia suddenly announced she was going offline.
Facing her fans’ protests, she playfully complained. “It’s not me who wants to stop streaming. It’s the baby’s dad, he’s pestering me, saying he wants to start teaching the baby in utero.”
No sooner had she spoken than Spencer reached out and cut off the video feed.
But he forgot to turn off the microphone.
A gasp was heard.
“Oh, what are you doing…”
Then?came?the man’s low chuckle and the woman’s suppressed moans.
“Shh. The doctor said, be gentle, it’s good for the baby…”
I couldn’t listen anymore. I slammed the power button.
Soon.
Soon, I would be free.
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