Dying to Divorce Him

Chapter 7

Felix didn't even remember how he made it back home. Someone called him, and when he looked down at his phone, I saw it too.

It was Zia, again.

This time, he didn't pick up.

Then something seemed to click in his mind. Without a word, he stumbled out the door and ran straight to my company. He'd been there so often, security didn't stop him. He stormed into the CEO's office.

"Emma, I knew they were lying to me!" he shouted.

The new CEO looked up, startled by the sudden outburst.

"Miss Quinn left the company a while ago... you didn't know?"

"Where is she?" Felix demanded, eyes wild.

Just as the CEO opened his mouth to respond, a message popped up on his phone. His expression shifted.

"Miss Quinn's ashes were just returned," he said quietly. Then, without hesitation, he picked up the phone and called security.

That night, the company issued a public statement announcing my death.

When Shirley found out I was back, just in a different form, she clung to my urn like her life depended on it. She refused to let go.

I had told her I didn't want a big ceremony, just a quiet burial next to my parents. She remembered and planned to keep my ashes with her until then.

But Felix wouldn't let go of the urn. He held it like a man who had lost everything. Tears streamed down his face as if he'd only just started grieving.

Shirley stood across from him, furious. "Now you want to cry? Now you want to act like you cared? Who are you trying to fool?"

She called in two bodyguards. They pinned him down without much struggle and took the urn from his arms.

Clutching the urn to her chest, Shirley walked out without looking back.

The next day, she laid me to rest.

I could feel my soul slowly fading.

Felix went home and headed straight to the wine cellar. He drank until he could barely sit upright. Staring into the empty space where I once stood, he whispered, "Emma…"

For a split second, I thought he could see me. I even tried to hide.

But it was just his imagination.

"Please don't leave me," he murmured. "I know I messed up. None of this, none of the fame or money, means anything anymore. I just want you."

He grabbed his phone with trembling hands and called Sally in a drunken rage.

"I'm done. I'm quitting the industry."

Sally, who had been desperately trying to track him down, finally found him, passed out cold in the cellar. She rushed him to the hospital.

The next morning, sunlight poured through the hospital window. Felix rubbed his eyes to see Sally sitting at his bedside.

"Let's get back to filming," she said plainly.

Felix stayed flat on his back, not saying a word.

"I know you're grieving," Sally said. "But before Emma passed, she asked me to look after you. And now look at you. One day without me and you nearly drink yourself to death."

"She said that to you?" His voice cracked. "Why didn't she say anything to me?"

Sally didn't soften her tone. She let him recover just long enough for the IV drips to finish, then dragged him, almost literally, back to the set.

"Finish the damn project. Once it's done, you can disappear or retire or scream into the void for all I care."

But after returning to work, Felix was never the same. His performance was off. His mind was never fully there.

The company's announcement of my passing sparked an outpouring of public grief.

People mourned that I had died so young, without ever getting the chance to truly live. Then, stories about the charity work I'd quietly done over the years began circulating.

Social media flooded with tributes. Strangers, fans, even former critics began to remember me with warmth.

Some pointed out how close I'd been to Chris before I passed. His fans rallied around him, sending him messages of support.

"Stay strong," they told him. "Emma wouldn't want you to fall apart."