A Billionaire's Regret For A Ghost

Two years after my death, I was a ghost trapped beside my grandmother, who suffered from Alzheimer's. She still thought I was alive, still trying to contact my ex-boyfriend, Liam.

"Do you regret it, Chloe?" Liam's voice was biting and cold. "It's useless. Even if you got down on your knees and begged me, I would never give you another chance."

He thought I was still alive. He thought I was manipulating my grandmother to get to him.

But I was a ghost, and nothing more. I had left this world a long time ago.

Liam was supposed to hate me forever, right up until someone told him the truth.

"She's dead! She's been dead for two years. And you killed her."

Liam's world shattered.

He came looking for me in the most extreme way possible.

Chapter 1

I was dead.

My soul went neither to heaven nor to hell. I was trapped in the realm of the living, tethered to my grandmother's side.

In her wrinkled hands, she clutched my battered, worn-out cell phone.

She dialed Liam Hayes's number over and over again. It would ring and ring, but no one ever answered.

She wandered into a sleek, glass-walled plaza in a Silicon Valley tech park, asking everyone she met, "Excuse me, have you seen my precious girl and her boyfriend?"

Most people ignored her—some shooting her impatient glares, others offering polite but dismissive apologies. Yet, Nana didn't give up. She kept asking, moving from one person to the next.

My heart ached for her. I wanted so badly to tell her to stop looking, to just go home. But no one could hear the words I spoke.

Just then, a large crowd surged out of the company's main building.

I turned my head instinctively and caught sight of a familiar figure.

It was Liam.

Maybe it was because I had been dead for so long that I almost didn't recognize him at first. Or maybe he had just changed that much.

The man who had once struggled bitterly for startup funding was now a billionaire. Flanked by a beautiful, young executive assistant, he was wrapping up a high-profile product launch.

Facing the swarm of reporters, the soft, youthful vulnerability that once marked his face was gone, replaced by sharp, hardened angles.

He was no longer the struggling entrepreneur hunched over a keyboard writing code, surviving on lukewarm coffee and big dreams.

He was a tech titan now.

Seeing the commotion, Nana pointed a trembling finger at Liam and excitedly told a passerby, "Look, that's my Chloe's boyfriend. Isn't he handsome?"

Then, she noticed the woman beside him and muttered in confusion, "Why isn't my Chloe with him?"

Grandma suffered from Alzheimer's. After I died, her condition deteriorated rapidly. She frequently forgot that I had passed away.

Seeing the news of Liam's company going public triggered an episode, driving her to this tech park. Deep in her fragile mind, she still believed that the startup Liam and I founded together had finally made it.

"Chloe! Look! It's Liam! I told you he would come!" Her voice was bright and touching, carrying pure, unadulterated joy.

Her eyes were unfocused as she looked left and right, searching for me.

Even though I was standing right beside her, she couldn't see a thing.

"Sweetheart, why aren't you answering? Come on, let's go see him. He'll be so happy," she murmured to herself.

Her memory was like a tattered tapestry, frayed at the edges—bright in some places, entirely blank in others. She remembered the good times, the easy laughter, and the dreams we had built with Liam.

She forgot that I was dead.

She remembered us as a deeply loving couple.

She thought Liam still loved me. She thought we were still together, building our future side by side.

She had no idea that the empire he built was erected upon a grave. In a way, it was mine.

Gazing at Liam's stoic face, I felt a mix of joy and sorrow. In that moment, I knew for certain: he had made it.

His achievements far exceeded anything we had ever imagined. The company we founded together, the ideas we shared—they had culminated in today's glory. And me? I was just a forgotten ghost, a stepping stone.

Nana's excited shouts drew the attention of the crowd, including the reporters.

Liam noticed her, too. But he ignored her, shooting her a cold, indifferent glance before walking on.

Seeing him leave, Nana suddenly panicked and pushed her way through the crowd, trying to run toward him. Blocked by his bodyguards, she cried out in alarm, "Liam! Why didn't Chloe come with you?"

She tried to shove the guards aside. "He's my granddaughter Chloe Miller's boyfriend! They love each other deeply. Why are you stopping me?!"

Liam stopped in his tracks. He turned his head to look at my grandmother, his eyes freezing cold.

After a moment of silence, he replied coldly, "I don't know her. Nor do I know a Chloe Miller."

Those words dropped like lead weights, shattering my heart into a million agonizing pieces. The suffocating pain made me realize that Liam's hatred for me ran far deeper than I could have ever imagined.

It was a searing, visceral pain, more real than anything I had experienced in life. It was a phantom ache, yet it tore at my very soul.

His hatred was like a living thing—it had grown, festered, and ultimately mutated into a truly terrifying monster.

He hadn't just forgotten me; he had completely erased my existence, denying what we once had. He wanted me gone forever.

Because from his perspective, three years ago, I had "betrayed" him.

Nana froze. "Don't you remember me? Chloe's grandma!"

She reached into her worn leather purse.

She pulled out a faded photograph.

It was a picture of Liam and me from many years ago. We were smiling, arms wrapped around each other, his head resting on my shoulder. We were so young back then, so full of hope.

"Look, Liam," she whispered, her voice trembling. "It's Chloe. It's us." She tried once more to push past security.

The guards, though relatively gentle, held her back. The crowd surged forward, eager to catch a glimpse of the billionaire, boxing her in.

Grandma stumbled. With a cry of pain, she fell to her knees. Her purse gaped open, its contents spilling onto the cold pavement.

The photograph tumbled out along with her tattered wallet, coming to rest right next to Liam's polished leather shoes.

A ripple of laughter spread through the onlookers. People whipped out their phones, ready to record the old woman's public humiliation.

Grandma lay there, frail and dazed, stripped of her dignity. No one offered a helping hand. In the vast crowd, there was nothing but a sea of apathetic faces.

Liam's eyes were icy as he stared down at the scattered items. His gaze lingered on the photograph for a moment. In that split second, I saw a flicker of something cross his eyes. A fragment of memory. A shadow of emotion.

He bent down.

The crowd gasped as camera flashes went off in rapid succession. He picked up the photo, his finger lightly brushing across my smiling face.

My heart—the heart that had long since stopped beating—hammered in my chest.

He remembered. He had to remember.

Grandma looked up, hope glinting through her tear-blurred eyes. A small smile touched her lips. She thought he was finally reaching out to her.

But then, with a sharp flick of his wrists, Liam tore the photo in half. Then into quarters. He kept going until it was nothing but tiny, irreparable shreds.

He let the pieces flutter to the ground, scattering them around Grandma as she knelt there.

"That's what I think of your Chloe," he said. "Lies, betrayal, and nothing but opportunistic trash."

I was already dead, but hearing those words still made me feel like I was suffocating.

The person you love most always knows exactly how to cut you the deepest.

Those words burned hotter than any fire. They ripped through my spirit, stinging my soul like the death of a thousand cuts.

He was trying to erase me completely, piece by piece, with shards of pure hatred.

Grandma stared at the photo that now looked like confetti, her trembling hands trying to gather the torn pieces. Her face contorted, an old woman's raw despair laid bare for the whole world to see.

The reporters swarmed, their lenses hungry. They aimed at Grandma, at the scattered fragments of our past, eager to capture the perfect shot of her agonizing struggle.

I wanted to throw myself in front of them, to shield her, to make them stop. But I was like air—I could do nothing. I was utterly powerless.

Liam watched expressionlessly, without a shred of remorse or an ounce of pity.

"Liam, stop!" my spirit screamed. "Don't let them do this to her! Don't let them hurt Grandma!"

Of course, he ignored me. He couldn't hear.

His gaze locked onto Grandma, a cruel smirk playing on his lips. "Isn't it a bit too late for Chloe to feel regret now?"

"Tell your 'Chloe' to give me a proper apology. If she really wants something from me, she knows what she has to do. If she gets down on her knees and apologizes, I might consider forgiving her."

Grandma looked up, her eyes vacant.

"Apologize?" she murmured, looking lost. "But Chloe... she didn't do anything wrong."

She didn't understand. She couldn't understand.

My heart—an organ that no longer existed—ached with an unbearable longing. Oh, how I wanted to hold her, to comfort her.

My transparent body passed right through hers. I couldn't touch her, couldn't comfort her, couldn't be there for the only person left who still loved me.

Seeing Grandma's bewildered silence, Liam let out a scoff. He turned on his heel and walked away, his entourage parting to make room. His point had been made.

Suddenly, a flash of clarity sparked in Grandma's eyes.

She jerked her head up. For a brief second, her mind cleared, and a painful memory pierced through the fog. Her lips trembled. Scalding tears rolled down her wrinkled cheeks.

"No," she choked out, "Chloe can't. She can't apologize. She can't come from anywhere."