The Ghost Who Died For Him

Three years ago, I sacrificed myself to donate my corneas to my blind lover, Elliot Moon.

To spare him the guilt, I had my family tell him that I had abandoned him for a new life.

But the credit for my sacrifice was stolen by another woman, Dolly.

Convinced that I was still alive, Elliot became obsessed with hunting me down and dragging me back to donate my heart to cure Dolly’s heart disease.

He broke both of my brother’s hands. He drove my mother to her death.

But I was already dead, reduced to a ghost, unable to do a single thing.

That was until his subordinate uncovered the truth: "Mr. Moon, Ms. Kayla died three years ago to save you."

Chapter 1

Tonight, my brother Jaron’s agonizing screams tore through the silence of the old warehouse.

The sound ripped through my spectral form, even though I could no longer feel a physical body.

This cruel echo felt like a return to another night three years ago, when I sacrificed myself to save the very man who was now destroying my family.

Jaron’s cries shredded the silence, as if threatening to shatter this empty cavern entirely.

My heart had long since stopped beating, yet it still ached with a pain that far surpassed any physical wound.

Elliot Moon stood over him, his hands casually tucked into the pockets of his impeccably tailored suit trousers.

Faced with the gruesome scene before him, his posture seemed far too relaxed.

"Where is she, Jaron?" Elliot's voice was low and gravelly, devoid of the warmth I once knew. "Stop making things hard on yourself. Tell me where Kayla is, and all of this ends."

He gestured to the group of men surrounding Jaron.

A burly man in a dark uniform delivered another vicious kick to Jaron.

Jaron collapsed to the floor, his body convulsing. He whimpered, the sound muffled by the skewed rag gagging his mouth.

My younger brother, a concert pianist whose hands were his very lifeblood, was now being brutalized.

Jaron struggled, his head weakly hitting the cold concrete floor. He tried to speak around the gag, his eyes wide with pain and despair, locking tightly onto Elliot.

He was mumbling my name, I knew it.

"Kayla, Kayla, she's gone."

Elliot laughed, a harsh, mirthless sound that scraped against my ghostly ears.

"Still playing the victim, Jaron? Don't insult my intelligence." His words felt like a branding iron pressing against my phantom skin.

"We used to be friends, Jaron," Elliot continued, a trace of mock nostalgia in his tone. "Your mother practically raised me after my parents died. And this is how you repay me? By protecting someone who abandoned me?"

His words dripped with venom, sending a chill through my nonexistent spine. He was using our shared past as a weapon, twisting it into something unrecognizable.

Elliot nodded to one of his thugs. "He’s not cooperating. Give him some encouragement." He issued the order with careless indifference.

My ghostly hands