The CEO Fell for His Dead Wife

Regina unlocked the front door of the Gray mansion and stepped inside. The house was silent, save for the soft ticking of an ornate clock in the hallway. Marble floors reflected the dim light, and the walls were adorned with portraits of perfectly composed ancestors who seemed to stare at her disapprovingly. She shivered slightly, not from the cold, but from the constant awareness that she was being judged—even when alone. “Regina?” her mother’s voice called from the living room. “Yes, Mama,” she replied, closing the door behind her. Her mother emerged, impeccably dressed as always, hair perfectly coiffed, jewelry glittering faintly in the lamplight. There was a note of satisfaction in her voice. “Dinner is ready, though I suppose you’re too busy with your assignments to eat with us tonight.” Regina swallowed the bitterness that threatened to rise. “I’ll eat later,” she said quietly, heading up the grand staircase to her room. From the doorway, she heard the faint, melodic laughter of Sasha. Regina paused, listening to the sound that always seemed to sting. Sasha was on the phone, presumably recounting some triumph from her evening out. Every note of her voice reminded Regina of the life she would never have—the adoration, the approval, the effortless success. She closed the door to her room and sank onto the edge of her bed. Her textbooks were stacked neatly on the desk, a monument to hours of silent labor. Hours that, no matter how grueling, would never earn her the praise Sasha received naturally. Regina stared at the pile, her hands resting on her lap. She wanted to scream, to shatter the perfect façade that suffocated her, but she didn’t. Screaming got you nowhere in the Harrison household. Silence was safer. Obedience was safer. A soft knock at the door startled her. “Regina? Can I come in?” It was her younger cousin, Lila, who often acted as a small buffer between Regina and the family’s coldness. Regina nodded, gesturing for her to enter. “I… I brought you some tea,” Lila said, holding out a small porcelain cup with trembling hands. “Thanks,” Regina murmured, taking it. She sipped slowly, letting the warmth soothe the tightness in her chest. “Are you… okay?” Lila asked cautiously. “I mean… with Sasha and… everything?” Regina’s jaw tightened. She loved Lila, but no one else seemed to understand the pressure she was under. “I’ll be fine,” she said, forcing a smile. “Just tired.” Lila lingered a moment longer, then left quietly. Regina watched her go, wishing she could be that unburdened, that brave, that visible in the world. Night deepened. Regina changed into her pajamas and sat by the window, staring out at the perfectly trimmed gardens below. In the distance, city lights shimmered like a promise she could never touch. Her mind wandered to her future—a hazy image clouded with doubt and fear. Every decision seemed predetermined: study, work, marry someone her parents approved, keep the family honor intact. But what if she didn’t want that life? The thought alone made her stomach churn. Footsteps approached, soft but deliberate. Regina’s father entered her room without knocking, his expression unreadable. “Regina,” he said, voice calm but firm, “I’ve received your grades for this term. They’re… adequate. But adequate is not enough in this family. You must do better.” Regina closed her eyes for a brief moment, fighting the urge to snap. “I’ll try harder, Father,” she said evenly, keeping her voice low. She knew that arguing was useless. Disappointment in the Gray household was not a fleeting feeling—it was a chain. “You must also remember,” he continued, stepping closer, “that family reputation matters. Do not allow your personal feelings to interfere with your responsibilities. Your sister…” he hesitated, “…Sasha sets the standard.” Regina’s chest tightened, the words hitting like cold steel. She wanted to shout: *I am not Sasha!* But she stayed silent, biting her lip, the knot of anger and helplessness in her stomach growing. After a moment, her father left as quietly as he had come, leaving Regina alone once more with the suffocating silence. She leaned back against the wall, trying to ground herself. Tears threatened, but she swallowed them. Tears were a luxury in a household like hers. Weakness was unacceptable. The next day was worse. Breakfast had become a battlefield of subtle jabs and veiled comparisons. Sasha, radiant and effortless as ever, regaled the table with stories of her evening with the Gray family’s influential colleagues. Their parents nodded, glowing with pride, while Regina picked at her toast silently, shrinking into herself. “Regina,” her mother said sharply, “why don’t you tell us about your day? Or are you too busy sulking in your books?” Regina’s throat tightened. “I… I had lectures, Mama,” she murmured, careful not to show her irritation. Her mother’s eyes flicked toward Sasha, as if confirming that perfection was still alive in the household. “You must learn, Regina, that one day people will judge you for your choices. You must be prepared, unlike your sister—” she paused, smiling faintly at Sasha, “…who naturally excels.” Regina clenched her fists under the table. Every word was a reminder that she would never be enough. She wanted to disappear, to vanish from the constant judgment, but she remained seated, enduring every pang of comparison. Later that afternoon, Regina found herself wandering the quiet corridors of the school library again. Her mind drifted, as it often did, to thoughts of escape. Not physical escape—the Gray household had eyes everywhere—but emotional escape. A life where her worth wasn’t measured by comparison. A life where she could breathe without the weight of constant judgment. She didn’t notice the figure watching her from across the room until a shadow fell over her desk. “Regina Gray?” She looked up, startled. A young man, tall and composed, stood there with an inscrutable expression. His eyes lingered for a moment too long, assessing, almost as if he were trying to see past the walls she had built around herself. “Yes?” she asked cautiously. “I’ve been meaning to speak with you,” he said, his voice smooth, almost casual, yet carrying a weight she couldn’t place. “About… your studies. And… everything else.” Regina’s stomach tightened. She didn’t know this man. Yet something about the way he looked at her—like she wasn’t invisible, like she wasn’t just the shadow of Sasha—made her chest ache with something dangerous: hope. She wanted to ask who he was, what he wanted, but before she could, the clock chimed, and he nodded once, silently, before walking away. Regina blinked after him, unsure what she had just experienced. The library, once a sanctuary, now felt smaller, tighter, charged with a new tension. She picked up her pen, tried to focus on the words on the page, but her mind kept returning to the stranger who had seen her. And for the first time in a long while, Regina wondered if maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t as invisible as she had been led to believe.