Her New Life, His Eternal Pain Chapter 10

Her New Life, His Eternal Pain Chapter 10 Ghosts Don’t Move On

His feet carried him before his mind could catch up.

Liam ran toward the wheelchair, dodging between parked cars, his heart slamming against his/ribs.

Then a vehicle pulled right in front of him, blocking his view. He swore under his breath and circled around it.

The person in the wheelchair was a man.

A man holding a little girl, lifting her up and setting her back down, making her shriek with giggles.

Just another hallucination, Liam thought, his chest deflating. Just like always.

“Daddy, that man keeps staring at us.” The girl pointed a chubby finger at him, tattling in her sweet, high voice. Her father turned.

Their eyes met.

The man in the wheelchair had a face Liam thought he’d never see again.

Samuel Scott.

Six years ago, Liam had raced to this same hospital, but he’d never gotten to see Fiona one last time.

Samuel had grabbed him by the collar and screamed inches from his face.

“This is all your fault! Fiona got that drug because of you!”

“You have no idea what it’s like-watching your organs shut down, one by one, drowning in your own blood. And you-you made her drink!”

“That’s not even the worst part. My mentor and I worked day and night on an antidote. We finally had a breakthrough. But you… you pushed her off the edge. You killed her.”

“Liam, you’re a goddamn monster.”

Samuel had punched him-once, twice, a dozen times. Liam hadn’t fought back. He’d just lay there on the cold floor, staring at the ceiling, those words echoing in his skull.

She’s dead. She’s dead because of you.

By the time Samuel was done, Liam had multiple broken ribs. To this day, they still ached whenever a storm rolled in-a dull, gnawing reminder.

He’d asked Fiona’s doctor once how much pain she’d been in.

The doctor had looked at him with cold pity. “Ten times worse than yours. Minimum.”

Now, six years later, Samuel was sitting in a wheelchair. Married. With a kid.

Liam blinked, trying to process it. His mouth opened and closed like a fish.

“What a coincidence, Mr. Lane,” Samuel said flatly. His eyes were chips of ice. No warmth. No surprise. Just cold, controlled hate.

“Been a while. You got married? Have a kid? Congratulations.” Liam’s gaze dropped to the wheelchair. “What happened to your legs?”

The little girl giggled, swinging her feet. “Because Daddy took-”

Samuel clamped a hand over her mouth, his face going stern. “What did I tell you?”

“Don’t talk to strangers,” the girl mumbled against his palm. Then she stuck out her tongue, hugged her father’s neck, and as they turned to leave, she waved at Liam over her shoulder.

Liam waved back without thinking. His hand felt heavy.

Samuel’s back, he thought. And he looks… settled. Happy.

Six years ago, he’d heard that Samuel had left for Denmark. Grief, they said. Couldn’t stand to stay after his girlfriend died.

Liam knew how much Samuel had loved Fiona. But he hadn’t expected the guy to move on so fast.

Then again, time healed everything. The living had to keep living.

Not Liam, though.

He’d killed his sister. He’d killed the woman he loved.

Two lives. He’d carry them forever. Atone in hell.

And the worst part? Fiona hadn’t just died from the drug. She’d jumped. Because of him.

The old Fiona-the one who never drank, who flinched at needles and scraped knees-he’d destroyed her. Made her drink. Made her endure. Made her drown in agony while he sat there and watched, sipping his own drink, feeling nothing but cold satisfaction.

She’d been Selene’s best friend. She’d watched Selene die right in front of her. The guilt she carried was just as heavy as anyone’s.

But his family-he-had piled all the blame on her. All the hate.

Because it was easier than facing the truth.

Liam was still lost in his own head, drowning in the past, when Samuel loaded the girl into a car.

Lily dove into her mother’s arms, whining in that high-pitched way kids do. “Daddy, why’d you put Mommy in the car so fast? We barely got to play!”

Fiona pinched her daughter’s cheek gently, her smile soft. “The wind’s too strong, sweetheart. It’s giving

Mommy a headache.”

“Oh. Okay.” Lily’s voice went small, her lower lip jutting out. “When will Mommy get better?”

Samuel stroked her hair, his thumb tracing a gentle arc. “Don’t worry, Lily. Now that we’re back, Mommy will be all better.”

The car door closed. The engine started. And they drove away.

Liam stood there, watching the taillights disappear, feeling the weight of six years press down on his shoulders.