Ghost of a Broken Home

On April Fool’s Day, my CEO husband cut out my heart to save his childhood sweetheart's son. After the surgery, he tossed me into a cold rental apartment, where I died in agony.

Three days after my death, my five-year-old daughter played in the room as usual.

Walking by the sofa, she wrinkled her little nose and mumbled, "Mommy, there's a weird smell in here."

She touched my face and murmured, "Mommy, are you pretending to be Snow White? Why are you so pale?"

She shook my arm harder and raised her voice, "Mommy, it's my birthday today—get up and blow out the candles!"