Dead to Please Him

Blake Henderson idly spun his phone in his hand, the shifting glow from the screen flickering across his handsome face.

It had been three days, and I still had not called him once. In the past, I used to cling to him every second I could.

"I guess she finally learned her lesson." Blake chuckled softly. Melinda's tear-streaked face flashed through his mind, only to be quickly replaced by annoyance.

Just then, his phone rang.

Blake picked it up quickly and said, "Melinda, you—"

"Mr. Henderson, Mrs. Henderson's room hasn't been cleaned for the past two days. The smell is getting quite strong."

It was the butler.

"What trick is she playing now?" A trace of disgust flashed in Blake's eyes. "Is she trying to force me to go back just like this? Dream on."

Hearing his words, the butler hesitated for a moment before saying, "Mrs. Henderson may already—"

Before he could finish, Blake cut him off. "Leave her alone. Let her fend for herself."

Then, he hung up the call.

Blake frowned and thought about my pale face, tearful and pleading.

"Blake, what are you thinking about?" Rosie, who was nestled in his arms, asked in a soft voice.

Hearing Rosie's voice, Blake snapped back to reality. He gently stroked her hair and said, "Nothing. I just thought of something unpleasant."

"Did my sister upset you again?" Rosie grabbed his hand and looked at him with concern.

"I didn't want to punish her. Please don't be mad at her anymore, even though she treated me…" As Rosie spoke, her voice trailed off, and her eyes reddened.

Seeing her reaction, Blake pulled her into his arms and comforted her. "It's okay, baby. You don't need to speak up for her. She's only trying to get my attention. I won't fall for it again. Don't worry. I won't let her hurt you anymore."

"But… but…" A faint glint of satisfaction flickered in Rosie's eyes, so brief it was almost impossible to catch.

Watching their display of affection, I laughed out of anger, but no one heard it. I was already dead.

The moment I stopped breathing, I felt myself drift up above the room. Looking down at the body on the floor, I knew it was me, yet it also felt strangely unfamiliar.

I saw my face filled with agony, and my body was a bloodied mess with eyes wide open in terror.

What was most ridiculous was that even at the moment of my death, I had still hoped Blake would remember the good in me and come save me.

Yet, at that very moment, Blake was at the hospital with Rosie, gently comforting her as she received an IV drip.

"Blake, will Melinda be okay?" Rosie's voice sounded as sweet as honey, yet it made me sick.

"Relax, she won't die. She's so afraid of death, so what's a little bit of an allergy going to do to her?" Blake replied casually.

Hearing that, I froze, and a sharp ache spread through my heart.

Rosie had eaten a little peanut, and he had rushed her to the hospital in a panic.

On the other hand, I had been forced to drink an entire crate of red wine, yet he dragged me into a room and locked me inside.

I was afraid of dying, so that was why I endured the burning pain of alcohol and struggled desperately to stay alive.

After Blake left the room, I dragged myself forward with great difficulty, leaving a clear trail behind me.