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Let My Death Mourn the Love I Lost Novel Cover

Let My Death Mourn the Love I Lost

After a horrific car crash, Leon Sinclair abandons his fiancée to save her sister, Juliette. Left disfigured with only a month to live, the protagonist watches as her family treats her as a disposable sacrifice for their interests. She feigns compliance, gifting Juliette her shares and unpublished art, allowing her sister to steal her fame as a genius. As her family and Leon celebrate their new life, they remain unaware that her generosity is actually a calculated prelude to a cold-blooded revenge.
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Chapter 2

Back home, Juliette could no longer hide her true colors. She barged into my room and kicked over my wheelchair. "What tricks are you up to now?"

I dropped to my knees from the impact, enduring the sharp pain as I pushed myself up against the wall. "In my condition, any trick would be pointless."

Juliette sized me up from head to toe and let out a cold snort. She stepped toward me. "So, you've admitted defeat?"

I gave a bitter smile. "Yeah, I lost—completely lost."

Silence filled the air.

Juliette frowned at me as if I were a stranger. "I don't believe you—not unless you give me those paintings."

Growing up, Juliette had always envied the attention my paintings brought me, so she kept imitating my work. Yet, she had no talent, so even when she imitated me, she only managed to copy the surface.

Still, she didn't give up. She began stealing my paintings outright and putting her own name on them. Because of her relentless behavior, I had spent years without picking up a brush. My family had long assumed I had given up on art.

Juliette asked, "What's the matter? Can't bear to part with them? I knew it—"

I interrupted her, "Fine. I'll give them to you."

Juliette stared at me in disbelief. It wasn't until the paintings were actually laid out before her that she believed it. She laughed so hard that her face was nearly twisted.

Juliette grabbed my hair and spoke slowly, "You idiot. Without these paintings, it wouldn't matter even if you recovered!"

She sneered. "Are you still thinking that everything will go back to the way it was? I've worked so hard to become the CEO's wife. I'm not giving that up so easily!

"Don't worry. I'll sleep with your man on the wedding day and get pregnant with his child, making you lose every last bit of hope."

Just then, Mom called us to dinner from downstairs. Juliette immediately let go of my hair and resumed her gentle demeanor.

At the dining table, she took out one of the paintings that I had just given her. Mom and Dad were so shocked that they dropped their utensils. "Juliette, when did you become so talented?"

Marcus became excited as well. "I bet this piece will sell for a high price."

That night, Marcus listed the painting on an auction site. Soon, a well-known collector bought it for a large sum.

The next morning, Juliette's name appeared all over major forums.

I watched them reveling, feeling nothing at all. I only had a few days left before my heart stopped beating. I wondered if their smiles would vanish along with it.

…

Juliette's sudden rise caused a huge stir. Over the next few days, reporters constantly surrounded our front door. They all wanted to interview the "genius artist" who had appeared out of nowhere.

Mom wept with joy in front of the cameras. "Thank goodness it wasn't Juliette who got hurt! Otherwise, our family would have lost a true genius!"

In front of everyone, she gave Juliette the precious necklace that Grandma had left behind. That necklace was originally meant for me.

My eyes dimmed. Suddenly, the reporters began asking about the inspiration behind the painting.

Juliette thought for a moment, then blushed and said, "The inspiration came from my fiance."

The reporters instantly lit up. "May we ask who your fiance is? Is he also in the art world?"

Juliette hesitated, but Dad grabbed the microphone and announced proudly, "Her fiance is the successor to Sinclair Group—Leon Sinclair!"

This interview sparked heated discussions. Labels like "high-society wife" and "genius artist" quickly captured everyone's attention. Leon's father, Joseph Sinclair, even appeared in person to confirm Juliette's status as the Sinclair family's future daughter-in-law.

Juliette had finally gotten what she wanted. She looked at me arrogantly. "Madison, you've gone too far this time, haven't you? Now, there really is no way back for you."

I chuckled softly. "I never thought about going back. I genuinely wish you happiness."

Juliette shouted, "You—"

She raised her hand as if to hit me, but then she saw Leon appear at the doorway.

"Leo, why are you here?" she asked.

She stepped forward to take Leon's arm, but he gently avoided her. He ruffled her hair and said softly, "Give us a moment. I need to talk to Madison."

Juliette left reluctantly. On her way out, she secretly glared at me. I gave her a smile in return.

Leon gripped my hand. "Madison, don't misunderstand. It's not what you think. I was going to stay quiet, but Dad wouldn't have it. He believes that Juliette can bring a lot of attention to the company, so—"

I pulled my hand back and took a step away. "You don't need to explain. It's a fact that Juliette is marrying you. You did nothing wrong. Besides, I already know."

He frowned. "Know what?"

I replied, "The jasmine perfume that never seems to fade from your clothes, the lipstick left in your car from time to time, and the way you instinctively size her up whenever you're with me—I know all of it."

"Enough!" Leon yelled.

His face burned with anger and embarrassment, and I had no desire to continue the conversation. In the end, he left with a dark expression.

My expression remained unchanged as I turned around and started painting. Ever since Juliette became famous with that painting, she had been threatening me, demanding a new piece every three days. If I refused, she would take away my medication and make sure I never recovered.

What she didn't know was that I didn't need the medicine at all. Still, I agreed. After all, I only needed to paint two more pieces before I died.

Those two paintings wouldn't last her a lifetime. I looked forward to seeing what would happen to her after I passed away.

…

One day, Marcus opened the door and caught me painting.

He scoffed. "You really love to imitate others. You painted for over ten years, then abandoned it without a second thought. Now that Juliette is famous, you've picked up the brush again. It's absolutely ridiculous.

"You'd better give up. You'll never catch up to Juliette in this lifetime."

I paused mid-stroke, and the light in my eyes gradually faded.

I thought back to when our family first took Juliette in. At that time, Marcus stood in front of me and warned her, "If you dare to bully my sister, I'll send you straight back to the orphanage."

But as Juliette grew up, everything changed. Although I outperformed her in every way, nothing could overcome her heart condition.

Even when she came in last place in a competition, she would clutch her chest and cry to Mom and Dad, claiming it was an attack at a critical moment that caused her failure.

She often fainted. Each time she woke, she would look at everyone with red-rimmed eyes and say, "Dad, Mom, Marcus, I don't want to die. I don't want to leave you guys."

The whole family was heartbroken over this. They slowly began to ignore me, focusing all their attention on protecting her. She then seized the opportunity to frame me, effortlessly tarnishing my image in their eyes.

After Marcus left, I sat in the studio in a daze for a long time. Then, I made a call. "Are there results from the car accident investigation?"

The detective remained silent for a moment, his voice heavy when he finally spoke, "Ms. Griffin, the crash wasn't an accident.

"Our analysis showed that the rear door had been tampered with and was completely jammed. According to the surveillance footage, the vehicle that hit you deliberately adjusted its angle so the impact struck your door.

"Once the car flipped, the driver could escape easily. Although the passenger seat was pinned, it was under much less pressure than yours, and the passenger there was easier to rescue. Ms. Griffin, this was a planned murder. Do you have a suspect in mind?"

I clenched my fists so tightly that my knuckles went white. I recalled that after the birthday party ended, Juliette had claimed she was carsick and wanted the passenger seat.

So that was why she said that.

I didn't answer the detective's question. I simply told him to organize the documents and send them to my email.

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