Too Late For Love, Too Late For Life

Name: Too Late For Love, Too Late For Life
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Gavin

Short stories | Completed

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For ten years, Andrew Scott – Drew – was my world. He was my protector, my father' s best friend, who' d raised me after my world shattered. My adoration for him, though, morphed into a love he brutally rejected, sending me away like a problem to be solved. To prove I was more than his ward, I volunteered for a deep-cover CIA mission, ultimately dying for my country. But death wasn't the end. I returned, a spirit, granted seven days to find peace. My only attachment was Drew, and I materialized in his Georgetown home. What I witnessed shattered me. Drew, the man I' d died for, was engaged to Molly, dismissing me as a mere "asset" and accusing me of desertion when I flickeringly appeared. Molly, his fiancée, wasn' t just unconcerned; she actively, sadistically tormented me, savoring my pain as I floated, unseen, through my childhood home. He didn' t see me. He never really had. I was a liability, a game, a ghost of memory. How could the man who raised me, who promised to keep me safe, refuse to see the truth even when I stood before him, the very woman he' d sent to her death? On my last day, my funeral arrived. My casket, draped in a flag, confirmed the unspeakable. And then, I watched as the man I loved finally broke, realizing, too late, the terrible truth of who I was, and what he had lost.

Betrayal Revenge Flash marriage Drama Forbidden love

Chapter 10

06-24 19:37

Introduction

To prove I was more than his ward, I volunteered for a deep-cover CIA mission, ultimately dying for my country. But death wasn't the end. I returned, a spirit, granted seven days to find peace. My only attachment was Drew, and I materialized in his Georgetown home.

What I witnessed shattered me. Drew, the man I' d died for, was engaged to Molly, dismissing me as a mere "asset" and accusing me of desertion when I flickeringly appeared. Molly, his fiancée, wasn' t just unconcerned; she actively, sadistically tormented me, savoring my pain as I floated, unseen, through my childhood home.

He didn' t see me. He never really had. I was a liability, a game, a ghost of memory. How could the man who raised me, who promised to keep me safe, refuse to see the truth even when I stood before him, the very woman he' d sent to her death?

On my last day, my funeral arrived. My casket, draped in a flag, confirmed the unspeakable. And then, I watched as the man I loved finally broke, realizing, too late, the terrible truth of who I was, and what he had lost.