14
Saoirse had been pampered her entire life. The moment she was scolded, her expression turned icy.
But when she caught the look in Miguel’s eyes, cold, sharp, as if he could tear her apart, she swallowed her pride and backed down.
Forcing a smile, she mumbled, “Then I won’t bother Brother Miguel anymore.”
The moment the door closed behind her, Miguel no longer held himself together. He slid slowly to the floor, his shoulders trembling.
He wanted to ask if the child had ever moved.,
Did it feel pain when it left this world?
He searched for me like a man gone mad. Canceled every engagement. Made his assistant call every contact. All just to find where I had gone.
But fate showed no mercy. Half a month later, he finally remembered the last time he saw me when he was on a cruise ship.
He rushed to the dock, barged into the surveillance room, and demanded all the footage.
He sat through each video, fast-forwarding frame by frame.
When the screen paused on the moment, he kissed Saoirse so sweetly that a flicker of shame flashed across his face.
Just as he was about to skip ahead, a tall figure appeared on-screen, dragging an unconscious
woman.
‘Belle!”
Miguel shouted in disbelief, his voice shaking. “That’s Belle!”
The next frame showed me gagged and bound, then thrown from the deck into the dark waters
below.
Seconds later, the waves swallowed me whole.
‘No-!”
Miguel stumbled backward, then collapsed against the wall, sliding to the floor as all the strength had drained from his body.
‘It’s not possible. Belle can’t be gone that easily…”
But every second of footage confirmed the truth: I was really gone.
After the incident, the man who kidnapped me turned himself in and confessed to my murder. Miguel spent three sleepless days and nights camped at the police station, unshaven and worn to the bone.
When Saoirse heard the news, she rushed over, eyes red and voice soft with false sympathy. “Brother Miguel, don’t be too heartbroken. None of us wanted this. Our family will handle Sister’s funeral properly.”
Miguel wrapped his arms around her as if trying to hold onto the fading warmth I had left
behind.
“Don’t leave me too…”
The day my death certificate was issued was also the day Miguel and Saoirse set their wedding
date.
He no longer lingered in mourning. No more obsessive searching, no sleepless nights.
He simply returned to the spotlight, filming movies, posing for ads, smiling for the cameras like nothing had ever happened.
A month later, he accompanied Saoirse to a bridal boutique.
She tried on dress after dress, yet none pleased her.
Her mood had soured lately; she had brought up the wedding date several times, but Miguel had to brush her off every time.
“This fabric is hideous, and the skirt’s too plain. Next!”
Even the shop assistant began to grow impatient.
“Miss, why don’t you describe what you want, and I’ll help you find it?”
Saoirse turned to Miguel, expecting him to speak up for her.
But his gaze had long drifted, frozen in place, eyes locked on a floor-length diamond-encruste
gown.
He stood there, unmoving, staring at the glittering piece in silence.
It was one of his own designs, a custom collaboration.
The skirt was adorned with diamonds arranged in the shape of fireworks.
I had once brushed my fingertips over those delicate stones. Eyes lit with wonder.
“So beautiful.”
