My CEO Stepbrother Built a Men’s Room Over My Grave

Old Man Silas had promised me a star-crossed, whirlwind romance the year I turned twenty.

I bought it. Hook, line, and sinker.

The universe, however, had a different plan. On my twentieth birthday, I kicked the bucket.

Even more ridiculous? Two years later, the dilapidated hill where I was buried was developed into a massive theme park.

And the exact plot of earth where my supposed "shot at true love" was meant to bloom? It's now directly underneath a men's restroom.

Lying six feet under, the thought of being subjected to the backside traffic of hundreds of men every day sent my ghostly composure shattering.

Just as I was gathering my ethereal strength to scare the pants off the cheapskate developer and force a re-interment, I got a better look at the suit-and-tie CEO. It was my stepbrother. The one who despised my existence. Caspian Shaw.

That blind old charlatan, Old Man Silas, had sworn on his life that I was going to run straight into an earth-shattering, soul-mate type of love when I turned twenty.

I waited, full of starry-eyed anticipation.

What I got instead was an unfortunate accident that ended my life the minute I crossed the threshold of adulthood. I floated in mid-air, pointing an accusatory finger at the fortune teller, calling him the biggest fraud who ever lived.

Later, the scrubland I haunted was fenced off and turned into an amusement park. The cruelest joke? The mens restroom was constructed directly above my resting place.

Are you kidding me? I did not wait two decades for a destiny that smelled like stale urine and bad life choices!

The park was nearing completion. The floor tiles for the men's restroom above my head were already laid. I lay in the dirt, closing my eyes in utter despair.

If it were just one or two hot guys, maybe I could grin and bear it. But hundreds of male rear ends every single day? That's a haunting even a veteran ghost couldn't survive.

Just imagining the scene made being a ghost seem pointless. Id rather just go ahead and reincarnate.

But reincarnation is pure luck. Some spirits get ushered away by the gatekeepers the minute they cool off. Others wander the mortal coil for years, and the reapers act like they don't even see them.

Unfortunately, I was the latter.

I floated up from beneath the restroom floor and started wandering around the park.

I had to admit, the outskirts had developed fast in the last two years. This area used to be deadliterallyand now theyd built a park this huge. Id dreamed of going wild at a theme park when I was alive, but I never got the chance. What a shame...

A Ghost Friend I knew from the hill waved me over to the Ferris wheel. Since it wasn't powered on yet, we floated up to the roof of the highest gondola to catch the breeze.

She saw the slump in my ethereal shoulders. "Why don't you try to send your family a dream?" she suggested. "Tell them to move your grave already."

"You don't want to turn into a full-blown vengeful spirit because you've seen too many backsides," she warned. "That's a miserable eternity."

She had a point. But sending a dream was an advanced technique. For one, I was out of practice. For another, I didn't exactly have any direct living relatives who cared.

My name is Summer Evans.

My dad passed away when I was ten. My mother followed ten years later, when I was twenty.

My Ghost Friend looked shocked. "No other relatives?"

I started counting on my fingers. "Grandparents on both sides are long gone. My paternal grandparents haven't spoken to my family in decades."

"Oh..."

Then I had a spark of sudden realization. "Wait! My mom remarried, so I had a stepfather... and a stepbrother."

"A stepfather and a stepbrother count as family!" my Ghost Friend insisted, slapping her knee. "It doesn't matter who they are; the priority is getting your grave moved."

I thought about it, then shook my head. "Forget it."

My mother had married into The Shaws, one of the old-money dynasties of Crestwood. My stepfather only had eyes for my mother and treated me with cold indifference.

As for my stepbrother, Caspian, forget it. The guy had never spared me a single civil glance. When the adults were around, he could pretend to be polite, but the moment they left, his face would drop so far it looked like he was chewing on lemons.

The first time we met, he warned me: "Don't covet what isn't yours."

"When you're a guest, you remember your place."

I was the definition of a tag-along, and he hated me for it. If he found out I had a men's room on top of my grave, hed probably just laugh and order: "Double the investment on this theme park! And while you're at it, dig a massive septic tank right next to the men's room!"

I finished my rant and threw my hands up. "So, what am I supposed to do?"

My Ghost Friend went silent. See? She always clammed up when the problem was too hard.

She scratched her head, about to start on a forced bit of inspirational ghost talk, when she suddenly noticed a large entourage approaching below. She was a natural gossip, and her eyes lit up like a neon sign as she immediately dove down.

"I'll go see who the big shots are!"

Two minutes later, she floated back, breathless with excitement. "Girl! Guess who just showed up?!"

Before I could guess, she burst out, "The big boss, the developer of the whole park, is here! I heard the workers whispering he came for a final inspection before the grand opening."

I looked at her skeptically. Why the theatrics over a construction check?

Sure enough, the next second, she started swooning. "The CEO is gorgeous!"

"I even overheard an employee gossip that he poured all this money into the park just to make his girlfriend happy!" she gushed. "Young, rich, and devoted? Total unicorn!"

I was unimpressed. The Shaws were a top-tier family. Id spent four years navigating the elite social circles after my mom remarried, and Id seen plenty of so-called "Prince Charmings."

My Ghost Friend suddenly changed tack. "Summer, Ive figured out a way for you to ditch the butts-on-your-ceiling problem!"

She suggested that since I couldn't send a dream to family, I should send one to the developer. Give him the scare of his life and force him to move the bathroom!

It sounded absolutely ridiculous. But when I thought about it, it was crazy enough to work.

I decided to try anything. I followed the direction of her pointed finger without a second thought. I needed to recognize his face so I wouldn't haunt the wrong person tonight.

...

There were a lot of people in the entourage. I figured I'd have a hard time finding the CEO.

But my Ghost Friend hadn't been exaggerating. The man was a lighthouse in the crowd, impossible to miss.

He stood with his back to me, the silhouette of his custom-tailored suitwide shoulders, lean waist, endless legsabsolutely lethal. Just the sight of his back could stop traffic.

I shot forward, hovering right in front of the man. I looked up. God, he was gorgeous. But why the hell did he look so familiar?!

"Mr. Shaw, the project will be fully complete by the end of the month. We estimate the grand opening will be May 1st."

The man stared at the still Ferris wheel in the distance. His eyes were dark, unreadable. After a long moment, he lowered his gaze and answered in a low, deep voice, "Mhm."

"Good work."

"No trouble at all, sir." The project manager chuckled nervously. "Everyone knows how much this project means to you, Mr. Shaw..."

They continued talking and walked past me, leaving one utterly dumbfounded ghost frozen mid-air.

Caspian Shaw. It couldn't be. Caspian, the stepbrother who was supposed to be the death of me?! This theme park was his project?

I squatted on the men's restroom roof, my gaze locked on Caspian.

I'd been dead for two years. Two years since Id last seen him.

I didn't know if it was my imagination, but in that short time, he seemed to have changed. He looked... less untouchable, less like a porcupine covered in ice.

A memory flashed, unbidden, of the first time I met Caspian.

Id only been moved into the Shaw estate for a few days. I was constantly walking on eggshells, trying to maintain the facade of a quiet, obedient stepdaughter. Only when I left the sprawling estate could I feel like I could truly breathe.

I was squatting by the roadside talking to my best friend, completely oblivious to the black sedan that had pulled up beside me.

My friend, curious about my new life, was asking: "Summer! You always wanted a sister, right? Did you finally get one?"

I nodded enthusiastically. "Yep."

"Except my new sister is a lot older than me, and shes got a bit of an attitude."

My friend paused. "That's called a brother, genius!"

I burst out laughing. When I looked up, the window of the luxury car slid down, revealing Caspian's cold, severe face.

He looked at me, saying nothing, but the sheer pressure was suffocating.

It wasn't until I was back at the house and saw him sitting there, looking every bit the lord of the manor, that I realized he was the stepbrother I hadnt yet met.

I gathered my courage and went over to greet him. The word "brother" barely left my lips.

He sneered. "I thought you were telling your friend you had a 'sister'?" he drawled, his voice a low, cold vibration. "Did I get a sudden promotion?"

He looked up at me, his eyes frigid and devoid of humor.

Right then, I knew this cheap substitute for a brother was going to be trouble.

When I stayed silent, he seemed to lose interest and stood up to head upstairs. Standing on the spiral staircase, he looked down at me.

"You're a guest in this house, Summer. Try to remember it."

He was arrogance personified. I fought the urge to roll my eyes, maintaining a fake, sweet smile.

"Yes, Brother."

We lived under the same roof for four years, and our relationship always hovered at absolute zero.

Perhaps my current reservoir of resentment was too strong, my ghostly glare too direct. Caspian must have felt the heat of my two-year-old anger, because he suddenly turned his head and looked directly at the rooftop.

I didn't even try to hide. If he could see a ghost, good for him.

He stared for a moment, lost in thought. The project manager, ever observant, asked, "Mr. Shaw, would you like to use the facilities?"

I panicked.

Wait. What? Was Caspian about to use the restroom right in front of me? This was way too awkward. The thought alone made my ghostly face flush.

The next second, Caspian shook his head. "No. Let's go check the eastern wing."

Ghost rules are very clear: I couldn't wander too far from my grave site. Luckily, Caspian was staying tonight at the parks resort hotel, which was right next door.

I followed him all the way to his penthouse suite on the top floor. I didn't have any sinister motives... just a deep, burning desire for cosmic revenge after hed tormented me so much when I was alive. Even giving him a good scare would be a win.

...

10 p.m.: Caspian was reading documents.

11 p.m.: Caspian was still reading documents.

12 a.m.: Caspian was still reading documents!

The man wasn't just working; he was running a ghost endurance test!

Just as my patience was running out and I was about to throw an invisible tantrum, Caspian finally closed his laptop. He took off his gold-rimmed glasses, massaging the bridge of his nose with a gesture of pure exhaustion. He stood up, slowly removed his suit jacket, and grabbed a robe, heading for the shower.

Oh, showtime.

I was ready. Id wait for him to finish, and when he stood in front of the mirror, Id manifest right behind him. That was guaranteed to scare him into a full-blown spiritual crisis.

I rubbed my hands together with a little ghostly glee.

Caspian reached the bathroom door, but suddenly stopped. He turned back, carefully removed a small pendant from his neck, and placed it gently on the bedside table. His movement was so tender it was almost shocking. Clearly, it was something precious.

Curious, I leaned my head over for a look.

It was a small charm... The style looked familiar, like Id seen it somewhere. Doesn't matter, though. I was right here, and the charm wasnt reacting at all. Must be a cheap knock-off he bought from a street vendor.

Caspian looked smart, but apparently, even billionaire CEOs fall for tourist-trap spirituality.

While I was having this internal monologue, Caspian entered the bathroom. I told myself I had no unghostly desires... Fine. Maybe a tiny bit of morbid curiosity. But I'd never even been on a date when I was alive; this level of visual intensity was too much.

I floated in for a quick peek and immediately floated back out, blushing (a neat trick for a dead girl). Quick summary: He's definitely been lifting.

I paced the floor anxiously, waiting. Finally, the sound of the water stopped.

The moment.

My eyes flashed. I phased straight through the door.

Caspian was standing in front of the sink mirror, towel-drying his hair. He reached for the hairdryer.

Flicker. The bathroom light died.

He froze, feeling a sudden disturbance in the air. He instinctively looked up at the mirror...

I hovered inside the glass, making the most horrible ghost face I could manage. I curled my lips into the classic horror-movie sneer, my voice a synthetic rasp.

"Hi, big brother," I whispered. "I missed you. Why don't you come down and keep me company?"

Caspian stared into the mirror. He was frozen solid.

But instead of terror, after three agonizing seconds, his eyes welled up. Welled up.

What the hell? Was he crying? I'd barely started! This wasn't the reaction I'd planned. I was ready to double down on the theatrics when I saw him spin around, yank open the bathroom door, and rush out.

Trying to run? Not a chance! I chased after him.

Then I realized...

He wasn't running. He was standing by the bed, phone shaking in his hand, as he dialed a number.

Me: "?"

I floated closer, pressing my ear to the receiver to eavesdrop.

"Master, I saw her!" Caspian's voice was fast and trembling with emotion.

"I did what you said! I built the park right here, and she came back! She's still smiling... the way she always did."

Me: "???"

The things he was saying were a hundred times more disturbing than my ghostly appearance.

This plot was going totally off the rails, man!