Even after Her Death by Rita Bond

I was terrified to wake up.

I was afraid that when I regained consciousness, I would once again become a spirit, watching my body being torn apart.

I also feared that I might not have any consciousness at all, unable to even take one last look at Carter, still not having had the chance to say goodbye.

Before regaining full awareness, searing pain overwhelmed me.

The moment I felt the pain, I was strangely relieved; if I could still feel pain, it meant I was alive, not just a wandering soul.

As long as I was alive, I still had a chance.

My head and body ached from the impacts, each part of me throbbing.

The images from before I lost consciousness resurfaced the sight of Zoey being discarded to the green belt, Harlan crawling toward her. She should be okay, right? What about Whitney? Was her heart okay?

I suddenly opened my eyes, and only then did I realize my current situation.

Whitney was not far from me, still unconscious.

I scanned the surroundings. We were locked in a water prison, but fortunately, the water level wasn't too high-just a shallow layer that hadn't even covered my feet. The ground was damp. The room was dark and musty, with only a small, square iron window.

Outside, it was pitch black; it had already turned night.

I listened carefully, hearing the sound of waves from afar.

I had a suspicion in my heart-was this the island that Yael once brought me to?

If the Carlyns were seeking revenge, they would definitely bring us to their burial ground.

Whitney's huge fish-tail wedding dress spread out on the ground, with diamonds scattered all over, glinting coldly in the darkness.

She was already slender and pale, resembling a stranded mermaid. Her entire form exuded a sense of fragility-beautiful, yet heartbreaking.

The dagger was scattered in the car.

I looked down and saw that the silver necklace around my neck was still there.

As long as the island didn't block signals, Carter would be able to detect my presence!

I propped myself up on the damp ground and struggled to stand up.

I hadn't lost any arms or

seemed like only superficial injuries-some cuts from

I felt a slight urge to

staggered, taking slow, unsteady steps through the

Whitney, you must survive.

I got closer, I used the

cuts on the back of her hand from the

they were

their worst, the current situation was the

and hoarsely whispered, "Whitney, are you

"Chloe..."

relief as I heard her faint

are you? Does your

opened her eyes. "Chloe, I'm fine. You've

a heart transplant. The heart had a strong rejection reaction after surgery, but since she started using my heart, the compatibility between her body and the heart had gradually improved over the past six months, with no rejection symptoms at

I did before I died

have you been here

many years with Taylor, knowing the Carlyns better than

have," she said, her expression suddenly changing in the next moment. "Mom and Dad!" Whitney grabbed my hand. "Chloe, something's wrong. Mom and Dad

it, I had already suspected this. The enemy had gone to such great lengths to gather all of the

was that I had already died once, and Whitney had suffered for 20

the sons were not very capable, they had lived a comfortable life under

and privilege, as if

hatred toward them was undoubtedly deeper than the one they held for Whitney

while they hadn't harmed Whitney and me yet, it wasn't just because of

part of the Carlyns and might

Sander family members had become the focal point of all their

In contrast

Whitney's worry

the fate of the Sanders, what matters more

"How's your body? Can

Mom and Dad... They're going

corner came a deep, male voice, its

"Shouldn't they die?"

was soft, devoid of any emotion-neither joy,

to look and only then saw the man

tell how long he had