A ghost
1412 Words
MARTHA'S POV
If someone had told me five years ago that my life would look like this; chaotic, empty, pathetic… I would've slapped them.
I was supposed to win. I was supposed to be the star. I was supposed to be the one everyone adored.
Not Millie-Rose.
Never Millie-Rose.
For years after she vanished, I told myself that I had finally gotten what I deserved. I had the wedding. I had Silas. I had the mansion. I had the agency.
But nobody warned me that stealing a crown doesn't make you a queen.
The first year of marriage with Silas was good… if arguments, slammed doors, and his constant bitterness could be called good. Whenever things got tough, he spat the same thing at me:
"If you hadn't ruined everything, I'd be married to Millie and rich by now."
The first time he said it, we were in bed and he was chatting with another girl. When I confronted him, he hissed and reminded me how useless I was to him. The words came out cold, factual, like he was simply stating the weather.
The hundredth time, I'd stopped flinching.
I hated him for it. But I hated Millie even more.
Every time a brand dropped us… Every time fans dragged us online… Every time a deal collapsed because Millie's name was no longer attached…
It was her fault.
Our dad going to jail because of the money he collected for her endorsement deals… my mom’s inability to be the woman she used to be… it was all on Millie-Rose
She abandoned the spotlight, and the spotlight abandoned us.
I thought when I scrubbed her name off the agency walls and claimed the highest-paying contracts, the world would worship me.
I posted the photos. Gave the interviews. Smiled at the cameras. I did everything she did. Wore what she wore. Copied her poses, that stupid head tilt thing she always did.
The comments were always the same though.
"Where's Millie-Rose?" "This isn't the same." "Bring back the real star."
They laughed. They mocked. They rejected me.
"Millie-Rose was the real star." "Millie-Rose made the agency." "Millie-Rose made the money." "Millie-Rose is gone, and this agency is dying."
Every headline felt like a slap.
We lost three major contracts in six months. Designers who used to beg to dress us stopped returning calls. The event invitations dried up. This mansion used to host parties almost every month, and now the chandeliers just collect dust because we couldn’t afford to entertain anymore.
Couldn’t afford anything, really.
Silas became worse. He cheated. He lied. He stole money from me, shamelessly… He took my cards, my inheritance, everything.
I found receipts. Hotel rooms. Jewelry I never got. Dinners at restaurants we never went to. When I confronted him, he didn't even bother lying.
"What did you expect?" he said, pouring another drink. "You're not her."
Like that explained everything. Like that made it okay.
I screamed, he ignored me. I cried, he shrugged. I begged, he walked out.
Sometimes he'd disappear for days. I'd call and text and leave voicemails. Nothing. Then he'd stumble back in at three in the morning, reeking of perfume and alcohol, and pass out on the couch.
But that wasn’t even the worst part;
He never looked at me. Not really.
He looked through me. Like he was still searching for the girl he lost.
Her. Always her. Even when she was gone, Millie still overshadowed me.
I tried everything. Changed my hair to match hers from the old magazine covers. Wore her favorite colors. Even practiced her laugh, that unnecessarily soft musical thing that made everyone lean in. But it was like wearing a costume that didn't fit. Everyone could tell.
Now she was back. Standing in this house… my house, after four years of silence. And she expected me to leave?
Me?
No. Never.
This place might've belonged to her mother, but it was mine now. I lived here. I maintained it. I paid the bills when the agency money ran thin. I earned this house.
And I wasn't giving it up.
That was why I called the lawyer right after she humiliated me in front of those useless guards. The way they stepped aside for her after her show off alpha-boyfriend came. Like she still owned them. Like I was nothing.
She wanted a war? Fine.
I paced the foyer while waiting, rehearsing. She broke in. She threatened me. She has no legal right. I checked my reflection in the hallway mirror, smoothed down my robe. I needed to look composed. Victimized. Sympathetic.
My hands were shaking. I shoved them in my pockets.
The doorbell rang and I rushed to open it, forcing my face into something tragic.
Attorney Leonard Hayes stepped inside with his briefcase. One of the most ruthless family attorneys in the country. I'd paid him a fortune for this house call, but it'd be worth it to see Millie dragged out by police.
"Mrs. Butt," he said, stiff. "I received your call. You said your stepsister broke into your residence?"
"Yes," I said quickly, letting my voice shake just enough. "She forced her way in. She doesn't live here anymore. I want a restraining order."
"Very well." He pulled out his tablet. "Where is she now?"
"In the living room," I hissed. "Come and see."
We walked toward the living room. My heart was pounding. Finally… Finally I'd have the upper hand. The lawyer adjusted his glasses, ready to document everything.
But when we turned the corner…
He froze.
Millie stood in the center of the room like she owned it. Her son was beside her, playing with a drawing book on the expensive rug I'd imported from Turkey. And behind her was him.
The man from the hospital four years ago.
The father of that useless child she came back with.
The same man who came with Callie to my wedding and ruined everything. Made Silas change overnight.
The same man who stopped me from throwing her out earlier when the bodyguards were supposed to help me.
Braham Gothan.
After the wedding I looked him up. Did my research. He wasn't human. He was a beast.
An Alpha wolf.
One of the most powerful men in the country. Maybe the continent. I'd seen his face in business magazines. Heard whispers about his ruthlessness, his wealth, how he could crush entire companies with a word.
There were rumors about what happened to people who crossed him. Businesses destroyed overnight. Reputations shredded. People who just… vanished from public life.
And he was standing behind Millie like a proud bodyguard.
Like she belonged to him.
Like she'd always been untouchable and I'd been too stupid to see it.
My stomach dropped when I saw the lawyer's face.
He blinked twice. Stepped back. His face went pale. The tablet nearly slipped from his hand.
He looked terrified.
"M-Mr. Gothan," he stuttered. Actually stuttered. "I…I wasn't aware you were involved…"
Braham's gaze could've cut glass.
He didn't move. Didn't raise his voice. But the room felt colder.
"You should withdraw from this case immediately," he said. Low. Final. "This woman…" he nodded at me like I was trash “…has no claim here."
The lawyer swallowed. "But she said…"
"I said leave."
Just like that.
Not a request. A command.
The lawyer's eyes darted between us. Panic rising. His briefcase trembled in his grip.
"Mrs. Butt," he whispered, turning to me. There was something like betrayal in his eyes. Or maybe accusation. "What did you get me into?"
My jaw dropped. "Where are you going!? You work for ME!"
But he was already turning. Already running.
Actually ran out of the house. I heard him stumble on the front steps. Heard his car door slam. Heard the engine roar to life.
Silence.
The kid kept scribbling on his book.
Then Millie looked at me.
Calm. Cold. Victorious.
She didn't say anything. Didn't need to. Her expression said it all: You never stood a chance.
It was the same look she used to give me when we were teenagers. When I'd post a photo and get a hundred likes while she got ten thousand. When boys would smile at me but stare at her like she was some kind of miracle.
That look that said: You can try, but you'll always be second.
For the first time in years…
I felt something I'd never felt toward her before.
Fear.
- Writer
