Dead No More

The imposter who stole my life tried to kill herself again, bringing my engagement party to a screeching halt.
I was done. Utterly exhausted.
I set a metaphorical fire to that grand ballroom and vanished without a trace.
Five years passed before the Hawthorne family saw my face again, in an interview printed in a national magazine.
My former brother, Julian, made an international call.
"Vivian. So you're not dead after all."
I said nothing. A cold snort came through the line.
"The Matriarch's funeral is in a week. Whether you show up is your business."
After he hung up, my husband, Marcus, must have noticed the look on my face. He walked over, our daughter in his arms.
"I can take Coco to the summer camp. You should go back. After all... that woman did help you once."
The truth was, I had no expectations for that family anymore.
But she was the only one in that house who had ever shown me a shred of kindness.
I nodded, not arguing.
The next day, I boarded a flight back to the country I'd left behind.
Five years.
It was time to go back and settle the old scores, one by one.
1
The Hawthorne estate loomed before me.
It was the same as it was five years ago. Grand, imposing, cold.
I suppressed the turmoil in my chest and raised a hand to the doorbell.
But the door swung open from the inside.
Our housekeeper, Maria, saw me and froze. The garbage bag in her hand dropped to the ground with a thud.
"Miss Vivian! You you're really alive!"
Her eyes instantly reddened.
When I first returned to the Hawthorne family, I was an outcast, ostracized by everyone. Maria was the only one who looked after me, taking care of my meals and daily needs.
"It's good that you're back, but Mrs. Hawthorne, she"
Maria wiped a tear from her eye, trailing off. She stepped aside.
"Miss, please, come in."
"I heard you were working abroad to support yourself... it must have been so hard. Now that you're back, you should talk to the young master. You can live a comfortable life, just like Miss Claire. Don't let things get as bad as they did five years ago"
"You're still brother and sister, after all. Mr. Hawthorne... he does care about you"
Her eyes were filled with pity.
As if I were still the same pathetic creature who used to cry and beg for a scrap of affection from the Hawthorne family.
But she didn't know.
I wasn't that Vivian anymore.
I stood my ground, not moving a muscle. "I won't come in, Maria. Where are her ashes? The old house, or the cemetery?"
Maria was stunned. "But Mr. Hawthorne is inside, waiting for you"
Then I wanted to go in even less.
Back then, when things were at their worst, my dear brother had thrown me out of the house into a raging storm.
"Vivian, you are not worthy of stepping through this door, and you are certainly not worthy of being a Hawthorne! My sister is not some raving lunatic!"
"I would rather my sister had been Claire from the very beginning!"
I understood then. In Julian Hawthorne's eyes, I was a nuisance, a stain he was ashamed to acknowledge.
I shook my head, unwilling to argue. I was about to ask Maria to just tell me where the ashes were when a low, familiar male voice cut through the air.
"Maria doesn't know where she was laid to rest. If you want to know, Vivian, you'll have to ask me."
2
I turned.
Julian stood at the end of the corridor, dressed in a sharp suit, his gaze heavy as he watched me.
I was taken aback, unable to decipher the emotion in his eyes before he turned and walked toward the living room.
Maria nudged me forward, her face alight with pleasure. "Go on, Miss Vivian!"
"The young master cleared his entire schedule today, just to wait for you."
I frowned but didn't want to make things difficult for Maria. Besides, it seemed the answer I needed was one only he could provide.
I lowered my gaze and followed him inside.
Julian was sitting on the sofa. Seeing me finally enter, a faint smirk played on his lips. He pushed a cup of lukewarm ginger tea toward me.
"Flew in overnight? You must have motion sickness again. Drink this, it'll help."
The sharp, sweet scent hit my nose.
For a moment, I was transported back in time.
I hadn't had this in years.
The year I was brought back to the Hawthornes, it was Julian who personally came to get me. From a small village to the sprawling capital. A flight of several hours. For a girl who had never been on a plane, it was torture.
But I'd heard the villagers say a single plane ticket to the city cost more than a family's entire harvest for a year. I didn't dare complain. I just clenched my teeth and endured.
When we landed, I threw up until I was dizzy.
I still remember Julian frowning, though he said nothing. But after that, whenever we traveled, this man who had been coddled his whole life always chose the train. If a flight was unavoidable, he would always have a cup of ginger tea ready for me.
But then, because of Claire, our relationship deteriorated to an icy standoff. The tea, naturally, never appeared again.
I snapped back to the present and gently pushed the cup back.
"Thank you, but no." My voice was calm. "I don't get motion sickness anymore. And I don't like the taste."
These past few years, I'd been busy building my career, flying all over the world. I'd long since overcome that minor discomfort.
Julian's pupils contracted sharply, the corners of his eyes turning red. After a long moment, he managed a quiet, "Oh."
Silence fell between us. I couldn't understand why he'd insisted I come in, only to say nothing. My patience wore thin.
"Mr. Hawthorne, if you can't remember where you put Grandmother's ashes, please don't waste both our time."
As I stood to leave, Julian shot to his feet.
"Vivi, you"
"Is that you, brother? Are you back?"
Before he could finish, a sweet, lilting voice interrupted from the garden.
A figure in a white dress darted past the floor-to-ceiling windows.
My gaze locked onto her.
It was her.
The person who had occupied my identity for so many years, the darling of the family.
Claire Hawthorne.
3
Claire ran to the edge of the garden, her back to the glass doors, seemingly unaware of us in the living room.
The breeze lifted the hem of her dress, revealing a gently rounded belly.
Was she pregnant?
As I stood there, stunned, an anxious male voice followed her. "Claire, my dear sister, would you please stop running? Do you even remember you're pregnant?"
A handsome young man rushed to her side, carefully shielding her stomach as if it were the most precious thing in the world.
Claire pouted, her tone playful. "Oh, stop it. I'm not made of glass. You all forbid me from doing this and that every day. Are you trying to suffocate me? Leo, do you even respect me as your older sister anymore?"
"Alright, alright, I can't win with you."
Leo shook his head, a helpless smile on his face. He turned, and his gaze swept into the living room, crashing into mine.
He froze, the smile wiped clean from his face. His eyes were wide, and for a long moment, he simply stared, completely ignoring Claire's chatter beside him.
He was the boy I had grown up with, the little brother who had followed me around for over a decade, crying "sister." Seeing him so suddenly, even I was stunned for a second.
Before Leo could react, Claire, who had also spotted me, offered a soft smile. "Sister, you're really back! You have no idea how happy I was when Julian told me you were safe!"
"You've been out of touch for years. He was worried sick! It's good that you're back. But please, don't be so selfish next time, just disappearing without a word. Not only did you suffer abroad, but you broke everyone's hearts here!"
My gaze shifted to Claire. I studied her for a moment, then smiled. "You look so well. My absence these past five years must have been very good for you."
Claire's eyes immediately reddened. She clutched Julian's sleeve. "Brother, look at her! She's just returned, and she's already talking to me like this, refusing to be civil"
Julian frowned, but for the first time, he didn't immediately leap to Claire's defense and scold me.
Claire opened her mouth, about to add more fuel to the fire.
Just then, Leo, who had been frozen in place, suddenly snapped back to reality. He strode forward and grabbed my shoulders.
"You've been living abroad all by yourself these years?"
His throat bobbed. "Are you okay? Was it hard?"
4
I sidestepped his touch.
"I'm afraid I'll have to disappoint you, Mr. Shen. I've been doing wonderfully."
Leo flinched as if my words had burned him. He retracted his hands, looking lost. A faint blush crept into his eyes.
Five years ago, at my engagement party, he had flipped a table and pointed at me, his eyes, once filled with adoration and reliance, now blazing with hatred.
"Vivian, if anything happens to Claire, I will never forgive you for the rest of my life! A cold-hearted, selfish woman like you deserves to rot! You don't deserve happiness!"
Those were his exact words.
So why now was he asking if I was okay?
Not that I cared. I turned my head, refusing to look at him.
"Sis"
Leo's eyes were red as he stepped forward, looking like he wanted to say more. But just then, Claire clutched her stomach, her face contorted in pain.
"Leo, my stomach hurts"
"Claire!"
Leo's attention was instantly diverted. He spun around, shouting for Maria to call the family doctor. He half-carried Claire, and they quickly disappeared up the staircase.
I found myself staring at the second floor.
Julian walked over to me.
"You're not mistaken. Claire is pregnant. The baby it's Ashton's."
My fingers twitched.
He paused, then changed the subject. "When you ran out on the wedding, the Cunninghams didn't pursue the matter, but it was a great loss of face for them. It was a marriage alliance, after all. Having Claire marry him in your place was a way to settle things."
"Besides, you were gone for so many years. The Cunninghams wouldn't let Ashton wait that long, especially not for a woman who had made them a laughingstock."
Even after all this time, even though my heart was a placid lake, I couldn't help but laugh coldly at his twisted version of the truth.
"Really? A man marrying his fiance's sister right after she leaves? Wouldn't that be an even bigger joke?"
I met his gaze, my eyes like ice. "And are you getting forgetful in your old age, Mr. Hawthorne, or are you just playing dumb?"
"Do I really need to remind you why Vivian Hawthorne ran away from her own wedding?"
The color drained from the man's face, leaving it as white as a sheet.
5
The cemetery.
I followed the signs to the memorial hall. The staff told me that the Matriarch's urn would be kept here until after the funeral service.
The sandalwood box sat on a shelf, simple and solitary, much like the woman herself.
Though I called her Grandmother, we weren't related by blood. She was my grandfather's second wife, more than twenty years his junior. In fact, she wasn't much older than my own parents.
Her humble origins and awkward age made her an outcast in a family like the Hawthornes, who valued lineage above all else. She never fought for acceptance. Frail and unable to bear children, she simply lived her quiet life as Mrs. Hawthorne.
The Matriarch lived a life of quiet conformity, so much so that she almost left no trace.
The only rebellious thing she ever did was help me escape the Hawthorne family five years ago.
The smoke from the incense curled upwards, blurring my vision. My mind drifted back to that day.
Claire had, once again, staged a suicide attempt at my engagement party with Ashton.
But that time, I didn't let her antics stop the ceremony. I called an ambulance and insisted the engagement continue.
My own brother, Leo, the boy I had protected my whole life, stared at me as if I were his mortal enemy. "Why do you have to provoke her? You've already gotten the man Claire loves. What more could you possibly want?"
My older brother, Julian, looked at me with profound disappointment. "Vivian, you're being so unreasonable. Must you insist on holding the engagement now and making everyone look bad?"
My fianc, Ashton, said nothing. He simply scooped Claire into his arms and walked out of the party, never once looking back at me.
The shocked stares of the guests bored into me. A tidal wave of humiliation and rage washed over me. My ears were ringing.
When I came to my senses, I had snatched a cake knife from a waiter and was chasing after them like a madwoman.
But a thin, frail figure blocked my path.
It was the Matriarch.
She was so fragile, she usually spoke in a whisper, but that day, she held me with an iron grip. I struggled, and she raised her hand and slapped me hard across the face.
"Pathetic!"
Her voice was quiet, but it struck me like thunder. "Is a man who can't make up his mind, who wavers between two women, really worth you debasing yourself like this?"
"The women of the Hawthorne family are not weak. Your own grandmother was a trailblazer, a true heroine. Vivian, where is your pride! By demeaning yourself like this, are you not shaming the memory of your parents, who died trying to bring you home?"
My cheek stung, my eyes burned. "Grandmother"
"Don't call me that!" she snapped. She pressed a cold, hard card into my palm and gave me a forceful shove. "Go. And don't come back."
I stumbled, catching my balance. When I looked up again, she had already turned away, her thin back ramrod straight.
Later, I used that moneythree hundred thousand dollarsto build a new life in a foreign country. And later still, I found a family of my own.
The incense burned down to ash.
I bowed deeply. "Grandmother, forgive me for not listening. I came back."
"I'm doing well now. I have a husband who loves me and a beautiful daughter. You can rest easy."
I had only returned to quietly close this chapter, to repay that kindness. But the ghosts of my past refused to grant me peace, appearing one after another.
As I left the memorial hall, I ran into him.
Ashton Cunningham.
The boy who was once my childhood sweetheart, my former fianc.
And now, my sister's husband.
6
"Vivian!"
Ashton got out of a black Bentley, blocking my path. He was out of breath, his hair messy, as if he had rushed here the moment he heard the news.
"Vivian, you're really back! I've been looking for you all these years."
He stared at me, his eyes filled with a desperate, lingering affection.
I didn't break my stride, merely glancing at him. "Mr. Cunningham," I said, my tone a polite reminder, "according to social etiquette, now that you've married my sister, you should be calling me 'sister-in-law'."
Ashton froze, his lips pressed into a thin, tight line. "We survived the hardest times together, relying on each other for over a decade. Are you saying you've just forgotten all of that?"
I stopped and met his pained gaze. I couldn't help but laugh.
"Ashton, weren't you the one sleeping with Claire behind my back? Do you really think you have the right to talk to me about our past?"
Ashton and I... we really were childhood sweethearts who had supported each other through thick and thin. I had taken a knife for him from a gang of thugs; he had beaten up the bullies who made fun of me. We shared a single scarf in the winter and split a popsicle in the summer.
I still remember that summer night when I was seventeen. The stars were incredibly bright. So were Ashton's eyes.
"As soon as we get to college, I'll get a job. I'm going to buy you a big house!"
"Okay," I'd giggled. "I want one with a balcony, so I can plant flowers."
To save up for our college tuition, I took an under-the-table job at a restaurant. My hands were always pale and wrinkled from the water, but as I counted the crumpled bills late at night, my eyes shone with hope.
Then, just before our final exams, the Cunninghams came. Ashton was the long-lost heir to the wealthy Cunningham family of the capital.
He was luckier than me. There was no replacement for him at the Cunningham estate.
The day he left, he cried, holding my hands. "Vivian, wait for me."
But I waited and waited. My college acceptance letter arrived, but he never did.
The next time we met was at the party celebrating my return to the Hawthorne family. I was the newly discovered eldest daughter of the Hawthornes.
And he was the new boyfriend of the second daughter.

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