My Ashes in the Drain: The Billionaire's Eternal Hell

Three years after my death, Julian found our daughter in a dumpster.

The little girl was digging through a rotten trash can, her tiny body turning purple from the freezing cold.

With bloodshot eyes, he yanked her up. Is this how Stella plays mother?! Where the hell is she?!

My daughter trembled in terror. "But... didn't Daddy throw Mommy out, and didn't she burn to death?"

I floated in mid-air, looking down at this man whom I had loved for ten years and hated for three.

Julian, youre finally here.

But its too late.

Mia had already flushed my ashes down the drain.

And your karma has only just begun.

Julians hand froze in mid-air.

My daughter's words were like a blunt knife, stabbing ruthlessly into his heart.

He opened his mouth, trying to say something, but no sound came out.

"W-what did you say?" His voice shook violently.

Luna shrunk her neck, her tiny, frail body shivering in the biting wind.

"Nana said... Mommy was thrown out of the house by Daddy. She had nowhere to go, so she lived in the old, broken cabin. Then... then the cabin caught fire, and Mommy couldn't get out."

She looked up. Her eyes were red, but she didnt cry.

"Nana also said that Daddy didn't want Mommy anymore, and thats why Mommy died."

Julian took a sharp step back, almost stumbling to the ground.

"No," he rasped, his voice hoarse. "It wasn't me."

"Then why didn't Daddy want Mommy?"

Luna asked directly. Childrens questions are always the sharpest.

"Why did Daddy refuse to give Mommy money for her medical bills when she was sick? Why did Mommy have to take me to sleep under the bridge while Daddy lived in a giant mansion?"

Every single "why" was like a brutal slap to his face.

I hovered in the air, watching the color completely drain from Julians face.

Karma?

This was barely the beginning.

I floated a bit lower, wanting to get a clearer view of his expression.

Over the past three years, I had seen many of his facessmiling gently at Mia, screaming in fury at his employees. But I had never seen him look like this. He looked like his soul had been violently ripped out of his body.

How amusing.

Julian reached out, trying to take Lunas hand, but she flinched and hid both hands behind her back.

"What's wrong with your hands?" Julian knelt down.

Luna shook her head.

Julian gently pulled her hands forward.

Those tiny hands were swollen red from the frostbite, her fingernails caked with black dirt. On the back of her left hand, there was a jagged, scabbed wound, looking like it had been sliced by something sharp.

"How did you get this?"

"I cut it on some broken glass when I was collecting plastic bottles," Luna whispered. "Mommy used to get hurt like this too. She told me to be careful, but I'm just too clumsy."

Tears almost spilled from Julians eyes.

He remembered that Stellas hands used to be incredibly beautifulslender, soft, and fair.

When they got married, he slipped the ring onto her finger and promised her that these hands would only ever play the piano and arrange flowers, never to do hard labor.

But later, she had to take their daughter to scavenge through trash, and those hands were completely ruined.

Ruined by his own hands.

I stared at the wound on Lunas hand.

I knew that cut all too well. In the final month before my death, I had an identical one on my hand.

I got it while scavenging for broken glass to sell. I didn't even have money for a band-aid, so I wrapped it in a dirty rag. It got infected later, and it throbbed with excruciating pain for half a month.

Now, that very same scar had grown onto my daughter's hand.

Julian carried Luna into his car, his movements so gentle and cautious, as if he were holding a piece of fragile porcelain.

The heater in the car was blasting, yet Luna was still shivering. Not from the cold, but from sheer terror.

"Don't be scared," Julian said, his voice incredibly soft as he buckled her seatbelt. "Daddy is here."

Luna stared at him, her eyes filled with complete unfamiliarity. "Are you really my daddy?"

"Yes."

"Then why didn't you come find me for three years?"

It felt like something was choking Julian.

Why?

Because Mia told him that Stella had run away with another man, taking the child with her. She told him Luna wasn't even his blood.

At that time, Mia had even produced "proof"a photo of me standing close to a strange man.

The photo was photoshopped, but he believed it instantly.

What had he said back then?

"A woman like Stella is better off dead anyway."

Looking back now, how utterly pathetic.

Suddenly, Luna asked, "Daddy, did it hurt when Mommy died?"

Julian's grip on the steering wheel tightened instantly.

"Nana said burning to death hurts a lot," Luna said to herself. "Mommy said she was always terrified of fire. Once, she burned her hand while cooking and cried for ages. But when she died, she was surrounded by fire."

"Stop it," Julian cut her off, his voice trembling.

Luna looked at him, shut her mouth obediently, and turned her gaze to the window.

But her tiny hands were shaking.

I was all too familiar with the streets passing by outside the car window.

I had walked those streets countless times, holding Luna in one hand and dragging a heavy woven bag in the other, digging through every single dumpster.

On a good day, I could collect twenty bottles, cash them in for fifty cents, and buy Luna two small buns.

Now, Julian's luxury car was driving on this exact road.

He probably had no idea that right where his tires were rolling, I had taken a terrible fall three years ago. My knees had scraped open, and my blood had seeped into the cracks of the asphalt.

The car finally pulled into a gated hilltop estate in Beverly Hills.

Luna pressed her face against the car window, her eyes wide with awe.

She had never seen such a beautiful house. It looked like a castle from a fairy tale.

"Is this... Daddy's house?"

"It's our house," Julian corrected her.

The grand front door opened, and Mia walked out wearing a silk nightgown, her face adorned with her usual sweet, gentle smile.

But then, she saw Luna.

Her smile froze instantly.

"Julian, who is this...?"

"My daughter." Julian carried Luna down. "Shes living here from now on."

Mia's face turned pale for a second, but she quickly masked it. "Is this Stella's child? She looks so much like her."

She reached out, wanting to touch Luna's face.

Luna shrank back, hiding behind Julian's legs.

"Shes not my auntie," Luna said in a quiet but crystal-clear voice. "Shes a bad person. Mommy told me that because of her, Daddy didn't want us anymore."

The air froze instantly.

Mia's eyes welled up with tears immediately. "Julian, how can a child say such horrible things?"

"Did she say anything wrong?" Julian suddenly asked.

Mia froze.

"The fire three years ago." Julian stared at her, enunciating every single word. "You set it, didn't you?"

All the color drained from Mias face in an instant.

"Julian, what on earth are you talking about?"

"I asked you, did you set that fire three years ago?" Julian took a menacing step forward, his aura terrifyingly oppressive. "The cabin Stella rented had two separate ignition points. It was clearly arson. You were spotted there that night."

"I... I only went there to talk to her! But I didn't set any fire!"

"Then why did you lie to me?" Julians eyes were dead cold. "You told me Stella ran away with another man. You told me Luna wasn't my daughter. You even showed me those photos. I had someone run a forensic analysis on them recentlythey were photoshopped."

Mia stumbled backward, her back slamming against the doorframe.

"Why did you do it?" Julians voice cracked. "What did Stella ever do to deserve this from you? She paid for your college tuition for three years! She treated you like her own sister!"

"Because she stole you from me!" Mia suddenly shrieked, tears pouring down her face. "I met you first! I loved you first! Why did you only have eyes for her the moment she appeared?!"

"And just because of that, you burned her alive?!"

"I didn't mean to burn her to death!" Mia screamed hysterically. "I only... I only changed her door locks and nailed her windows shut! I just wanted to scare her! I wanted to force her to leave this city! I had no idea a fire would break out that night!"

A loud ringing went off in Julian's head.

Locked doors.

Nailed windows.

That massive fire had raged for two whole hours. Three fire trucks had to be deployed.

In the end, what they carried out was a charred, unrecognizable corpse.

The coroner said the victim had desperately tried to escape, but because the doors and windows were completely sealed, she was roasted alive inside.

"You..." Julian was shaking all over. "Do you have any idea that is first-degree murder?"

"I didn't want to kill her! I just wanted to teach her a lesson!" Mia sobbed, grabbing his sleeve desperately. "Julian, I love you! I did all of this because I love you!"

Julian shook her off violently, as if she were some disgusting piece of filth.

"Arthur, call the police."

"Wait!" Mia lunged forward, clawing at him. "Julian, I'm pregnant! It's your baby! You can't do this to me!"

Julian's footsteps halted.

"That night you got drunk... you mistook me for Stella." Mia cried, her makeup completely ruined. "I've been carrying your baby for two months now. Do you really have the heart to let our child be born without a father?"

Julian closed his eyes.

When he opened them again, his gaze was as cold as ice.

"Abort it."

"What?"

"I will never acknowledge it," he said, deadpan. "The only children I will ever have are the ones Stella gave birth to. Whatever is in your womb is nothing to me."

Mia collapsed onto the floor, her face as pale as ashes.

I floated in the living room, watching this absolute circus.

Mia's acting was as stellar as alwaysher tears flowed right on cue. Too bad her audience wasnt buying it this time.

As Julian turned around, I noticed his fingers were trembling.

Was he terrified? Terrified of what? Terrified that the child in Mia's womb might actually be his?

It didn't matter anymore.

After all, when I died, I had one in my womb too.

Two lives lost in one body. The debt he owed me could never, ever be repaid.

The police arrived incredibly fast.

As Mia was being dragged away in handcuffs, she was still screaming and cursing like a maniac.

"Julian! You will regret this! I flushed Stella's ashes down the drain years ago! She doesn't even have a grave! You will never, ever be able to lay flowers for her!"

Julian stood at the doorway, his body swaying weakly.

Her ashes... flushed down the drain?

Luna tugged at his coat, whispering, "Daddy, what are ashes?"

Julian knelt down, looking into his daughter's innocent eyes, his heart breaking into a million jagged pieces.

"It's... the last thing Mommy left behind for us."

"Then why did that auntie flush Mommy away?"

"Because she is a bad person." Julian pulled his daughter tightly into his arms, his voice cracking with heavy sobs. "I'm so sorry, Luna. Daddy is so sorry. I failed you... and I failed Mommy."

Luna raised her tiny hand and gently patted his back. "Mommy told me that if you make a mistake, you just have to say sorry. Since Daddy said sorry, Mommy will definitely forgive you."

No.

I will never forgive him.

Julian knew deep down that Stella would never, ever forgive him.

The way he held Luna was incredibly awkward and stiff.

Luna was three years old, but he had never once held her before.

When she was born, he was away on a business trip. By the time he returned, she was already a month old. He had only spared her a single glance, remarked on how small she was, and never touched her again.

Now, he held her so tightly, as if she would vanish the second he let go.

But unfortunately, the one who was meant to vanish had already gone three years ago.

That night, Luna ran a dangerously high fever.

Julian stayed by her bedside, constantly changing the wet towel on her forehead.

Luna cried out for her mommy in her sleep, and he held her tiny hand, repeating desperately that Daddy was here.

"Mommy... fire! The fire is so big!"

"Mommy can't get out!"

"Mommy, it hurts!"

Julian buried his face into his daughter's tiny hands, his tears soaking the bedsheets.

He remembered that night three years ago.

Mia had snuggled into his arms, crying, "Julian, Stella sent me a text saying she doesn't want to live anymore. I'm so scared. Please go check on her."

At that time, he was in the middle of negotiating a multi-million dollar merger.

"She's just throwing another tantrum," he had said impatiently. "Ignore her."

"But..."

"I said ignore her!"

Only much later did he find out that Stella had actually called him seventeen times that night.

He hadn't answered a single one.

The very last call was at 11:08 PM.

The call had connected, but no one spoke. There was only the sound of violent, agonizing coughing, and the terrifying crackle of roaring flames.

What had he said back then?

"Stella, are you seriously not done yet? If you want to die, go die somewhere far away. Stop bothering me."

And then, he hung up.

That was the last phone call she ever made to him.

Luna suddenly bolted awake, her eyes filled with absolute terror.

"Daddy... I dreamed of Mommy."

"What did you dream of, sweetie?"

"Mommy was in the fire. She kept calling your name." Lunas tears spilled over. "She was screaming, 'Julian, save me!' But nobody came. Daddy, where were you?"

Julian opened his mouth, but his throat was completely paralyzed.

Luna stared at him. The confusion in her eyes slowly turned into disappointment, and then into a tragic, heartbreaking understanding that no three-year-old child should ever possess.

"Daddy didn't go to save Mommy, did you?"

Julians tears fell like rain.

"I'm sorry..."

Luna turned her body away, presenting her back to him, her tiny shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

She didn't say another word.

But Julian knew his daughter now understood everything.

I floated beside the bed, staring at Lunas trembling back.

Those fragile, tiny shoulders looked exactly like the last image I had of her before I died.

I couldn't escape the fire, so I had forced her inside a heavy steel cabinet. The cabinet had small ventilation slits, and the fire couldn't reach inside.

I had whispered, "Luna, be a good girl. Close your eyes and count to a thousand. Mommy will come get you then."

She had actually closed her eyes and started counting, "One, two, three..."

I heard her count all the way to one hundred and thirty-seven before my world went completely silent.

It wasn't because she stopped counting. It was because my eardrums had been burned away.