After I Died, A Tycoon Went Crazy

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It had been four years since my death.

James continued his playboy lifestyle, living it up like he always has.

I float above, silently watching him surrounded by women, looking perfectly content.

His drinking buddies took turns toasting him.

The atmosphere was perfect until someone had to bring it up.

"Hey James, whatever happened to your little shadow? Haven't seen her in ages."

"..."

The room fell silent.

That "little shadow" they mentioned was me.

My father was the gardener for the Thorne family, and my mother was their housekeeper.

Growing up, my parents always taught me to stay in James' good graces.

After all, without the Thornes, our family would have had nothing.

I did as they said.

But James absolutely despised me. How much did he hate me?

Just hearing my name would send him into a rage.

Like right now.

His smile froze, and his gaze turned icy as he stared down the person who'd just spoken.

The guy didn't even notice.

He was clearly drunk, the alcohol making him bold and stupid.

The drunk fool kept running his mouth. "Look, Michelle's not bad looking, and she's got a great figure. Since you had to marry her anyway, James might as well make the most of it."

Crash!

James slammed his glass down, shattering it across the table.

A shard sliced into his hand.

Blood dripped slowly from the cut, each drop falling like a crimson tear.

The women screamed and scattered.

The others tried to smooth things over with nervous laughter. "He's totally wasted, man. Don't mind him, James."

"Yeah, Grace is the only woman we recognize. Michelle? She's nothing!"

"Let's not talk about that bad luck charm. Come on, let's drink!"

But James wasn't having any of it.

He stood up, towering over everyone as his eyes swept the room. Then he grabbed a $200,000 bottle of wine and poured it over the drunk fool's head.

With a cold smirk, he said, "If you've got a death wish, that's fine by me. But don't push my buttons, or else... Next time, it won't be the wine I'm pouring."

Everyone's faces went pale, and they didn't dare breathe a word.

I floated in the corner, watching this scene with a sigh.

I'd been dead for four years already.

"James, do you still hate me this much?"

As soon as James stepped out of the private room, I was yanked along with him.

Perhaps it was because my lingering attachment was too strong.

I discovered I couldn't move more than ten feet away from him.

Which meant I had to follow him everywhere, even into some rather uncomfortable situations.

In a dimly lit room, Grace melted into James' arms like putty, tears glistening in her eyes, looking up at him with pure adoration. "James," she cooed, "when will you finally divorce her? Being caught between you two... it makes me feel like the other woman..."

James paused for a moment, then ran his fingers through her long hair and pulled her close. "Don't be silly," he murmured.

"Who dared to say that to you?"

Grace suddenly burst into tears, and even I felt a pang of sympathy, let alone what effect it must have had on him.

With tear-stained eyes, she dropped my name.

I was utterly dumbfounded, ghost or not.

What absolute nonsense.

I was dead! How could I possibly come back to life just to bad-mouth her?!

What was even more ridiculous was that James actually believed her.

"She's nothing," he sneered. "Who is she to talk about you?"

Furious, I jumped on James' head and stomped on it several times in rage. My hands passed right through his body when I tried to hit him.

What the hell! The je*k was taking advantage of the fact that I couldn't speak.

Grace smoothed out his furrowed brow with gentle fingers. "James, promise me you won't argue with her, okay?"

"She... she just likes you too much," she added, ducking her head shyly with a small smile. "And so do I..."

Men always fall for this act. They liked the broken girl, the pitiful one, the one who was hopelessly in love with them. James was no different.

He kissed her forehead, his voice thick with emotion. "I know. I'm sorry you have to go through this."

Give me a break. I rolled my eyes and turned toward the balcony, not wanting to watch their little show anymore.

After enduring their display for what felt like the longest thirty minutes of my life, Grace dropped another bombshell.

"James, I'm pregnant."

She took James' hand and placed it on her belly, smiling sweetly.

"We'll have our own family soon."

James froze at her words.

He stared at Grace's belly for what felt like forever, lost in thought.

A little annoyed by his silence, she finally asked, "James, you don't look so good."

James snapped back to reality, a tender smile spreading across his face. "No, no, it's nothing. Just... overwhelmed with joy, is all."

Grace smiled and reminded him to convince me to sign the papers soon. Shortly after, James left, claiming he had business at the company.

I thought he was heading to the office.

Instead, he had his driver take him to the Peak Hill Villa.

It was our marital home.

They said I was lucky to marry into the prestigious Thorne family.

But I didn't feel lucky at all.

I was here today because my father paid with his life.

In that car accident, he died saving James' dad, Eric Thorne. With his dying breath, he begged the Thorne family to take care of my mother and me.

Eric kept that promise.

But after that, James' treatment of me only got worse.

It started with cold shoulders and silent treatment, then escalated to mockery and verbal abuse.

I didn't know what I did wrong.

Was it wrong to love him?

After a while, I stopped trying to talk to him. All I could do was care for him silently, taking notes for him in class, bringing him breakfast... that kind of thing.

Then, Grace appeared in James' life.

I knew better than to bother him any further.

Five years ago, when Grace went abroad for college, she broke up with James.

That night, he got wasted entirely and, in his drunken stupor, stumbled into the wrong room.

I trembled in his embrace, too scared to push him away.

After all, this was his house.

If... if I refused him, would Mom and I end up on the streets?

After it happened, I huddled in the corner of the bed. When Mom saw the state I was in, she cried until her eyes were red.

Eric slapped James hard across the face when he found out, telling him to get lost.

Within two weeks, James was forced to marry me.

On our wedding night, he slumped on the couch, his eyes bloodshot.

He asked me, "Michelle Wilson, are you trying to destroy me?"

Before I could respond, he grabbed my throat and pushed me down into the mattress.

Warm tears fell onto my collar.

I realized then that he hated me because he couldn't marry Grace.

After marriage, he was rarely home, often staying out all night.

Now, as he opened the door, he couldn't even remember where the entryway light switch was.

In the darkness, I heard him call my name.

"Michelle, come here and help me with my tie."

No one answered him.

He clicked his tongue impatiently, using his phone's flashlight to find the switch.

The room suddenly lit up.

Something felt off about him today, so I watched from my spot on the couch, arms crossed.

James pushed open the main bedroom door, not seeing me, then checked the study, the media room...

Finally, he cursed in frustration and pulled out his phone to text me.

[Where are you? What game are you playing now? I don't have time for these games. Come home.]

I noticed, with sharp eyes, that his contact name for me was "Baby Wifey".

Ha, how ironic.

At the same time, he dialed his lawyer.

"Michelle still hasn't signed the divorce papers?"

"No, Mrs. Thorne hasn't signed yet." The lawyer fell silent after that.

James rubbed his temples and called his assistant.

My heart suddenly leaped to my throat.

Mark was the first and only person who knew about my death.

If he told James I was dead...

How would he react?

Thinking this, I moved closer to James, practically pressing my ear against the phone.

Mark paused for a moment before speaking with difficulty, "Mr. Thorne, Mrs... Mrs. Thorne is dead."

I died in distant Astnia.

Four years ago, Grace suddenly returned home, hoping to rekindle things with James.

They'd been sneaking around for nearly six months before I caught them together.

When I knocked on that hotel room door, I felt completely numb inside.

Even the most substantial feelings couldn't survive this kind of betrayal.

James opened the door.

His shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, marked with noticeable lipstick stains.

Something snapped inside my head.

When James saw me standing there, he froze for a moment before quickly buttoning up his shirt.

His voice was low and urgent. "It's not what you think. Grace is drunk. I was just bringing her here. Nothing happened between us."

I just nodded, not interested in arguing anymore.

Truth or lies, it didn't matter to me anymore. I'd stopped caring.

My unusual calmness seemed to catch James off guard, making him look at me more carefully.

"What's up with you today?"

I forced a small smile and pulled out a company transfer agreement from my bag, my voice steady as I told him. "Astnia, four-year assignment."

James froze for a moment, then snatched the agreement and scrutinized it.

When he reached the end, he let out a bitter laugh.

"Acting first, telling me later? Michelle, you've really outdone yourself this time."

I glanced inside the room.

Grace sat in the most prominent spot, flashing me a smug smile.

Taking a deep breath, I turned my attention back to James and spoke sincerely, "Eric and my mom are getting older, and their health isn't great. You should visit them more when you can. After I return to here..."

I paused briefly before forcing out the words I'd been holding back.

"Let's get a divorce."

The air seemed to freeze at my words.

James' expression darkened instantly, his eyes flashing with anger.

"Michelle."

He gripped my chin and pushed me into the hallway.

With a quick movement, he shut the door behind us.

"You dare make decisions on your own, huh?"

His thumb pressed harder, making me wince in pain.

I knocked his hand away, confused.

"Don't you hate me? Wouldn't a divorce be perfect now? Then she can take my place."

He stared at me for a long moment before letting out a low chuckle, murmuring, "Hate... right."

I studied his face intently.

He was the first to look away, his calm voice echoing in the air.

"Don't regret this. Remember to come back on time to sign the papers."

With that, instead of entering the room, he strode away.

I slumped against the wall, sliding to the floor as my strength gave out.

My chest felt unbearably heavy.

After all these years, after more than a decade of clinging to this feeling, I finally forced myself to let go.

That night, as planned, I arrived in Astnia. Stepping out of the airport, suitcase in hand, I hailed the nearest cab I could find.

Little did I know that this simple action would cost me the rest of my life.

The enormous villa was eerily dark, illuminated by a single, lonely lamp.

James froze, his entire body stiffening as he heard Mark's reply.

After a long moment, he mumbled, "What did you say? Repeat it."

His voice cracked with raw desperation.

He seemed on the verge of shattering.

Mark couldn't bring himself to speak.

Until James barked into the phone, "Talk! You're lying, aren't you? According to the contract, she should have been back in the country five days ago."