A Very Public Humiliation

The instant he heard the first part of the number, Julian was already on his feet.

He beamed, unable to hide his excitement.

Winning Southbank meant Whitmore Group’s stock would soar.

And he would be the only one credited with making it happen. Replacing me as CEO would be the obvious next step.

A few people had even started applauding.

Then the host finished reading the name.

“…nine. Stella Ventures.”

Julian’s smile froze.

It wasn’t just him. Everyone in the room was stunned.

Including the ghost.

I was dead. How could there be a bid in my name?

Julian struggled to remain composed.

He managed a smile.

“Could you have read that incorrectly? The proposal was submitted under Julian Whitmore.”

The host looked confused too. He checked the result several times before answering firmly.

“There’s no mistake. The winning entry is number twenty-nine, Stella Ventures.”

Julian, representing Whitmore Group, was number twenty-eight.

Where had number twenty-nine come from?

And why did it have my name?

Julian could no longer control his expression. His hands clenched into fists.

“Everyone knows my wife is missing. Who the hell thinks this is funny?”

As the room erupted in whispers and people looked around for bidder twenty-nine, a hand rose lazily from a corner of the front row.

A startling red sleeve.

“Number twenty-nine. Stella Ventures. That would be my…”

Under every pair of eyes in the room, Lucian rose without hurrying.

“…newly registered company.”

Bidders were allowed to participate under a company’s name.

It was a dirty trick, but there was nothing wrong with it.

Understanding dawned. A laugh escaped me.

Of course. This was still the Lucian Blackwood I knew.

A calculating bastard to the core.

I should have known he wouldn’t abandon a tender this important just because I asked.

He had kept a card up his sleeve. Probably planned to use it to infuriate me.

If I were alive, I would have exploded. Marched over, thrown a drink in his face, and told him not to sleep with both eyes closed that night.

But I was dead.

Julian had murdered me.

And Lucian, whether he intended to or not, had just paid him back a little.

Using my name.

It felt wonderful.

Julian looked ready to cough blood again. This time for real.

He had thought victory was certain, only for Lucian to steal it at the last possible moment.

“You did this deliberately!” Julian shouted. “You’re making a fool of me!”

Lucian raised an eyebrow and smiled, as haughtily amused as ever.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Mr. Whitmore.”

His smile disappeared.

“What makes you think you’re worth the trouble?”

“You—”

Julian’s handsome face turned an ugly purple.

There was nothing he could do but watch Lucian stroll past him with the winning documents.

“That man is vile,” Gavin fumed. “He knows your wife is missing. He knows what you’re going through. And he registers a company in her name just to torment you? When she comes back, let her make him pay.”

Gavin still thought I had disappeared on purpose.

Still thought it was a publicity stunt.

“Honestly, your wife has had enough time to play her little game,” he muttered. “She should come home already—”

“Enough.” Julian cut him off, his face black with anger.

Then the police called.

“Mr. Whitmore, the tests on the blood and skin tissue from the ring have just come back. I’m afraid we need you at the station immediately.”

Hope leaped inside me.

Had they actually found Julian’s DNA?

Was the truth about my death finally coming out?