Ghosts of Christmas (Steamy Bwwm Holiday Romance) - Page 66

Any other logical words left me. Only questions tornadoed through my head. How long had I remained upset with Saint and Holly? Why would I so easily shut them away? Sure, I was terrified of facing my father, but that didn’t mean I should start hating them.

For some reason, I glanced down at the notes. There, Old Me jotted clear instructions on what to do with the line. Everything was super detailed.

And then Older Me stopped, put the pen down, closed the file, and set it on the bed. Slowly, she moved the blanket and got off the bed too. A determined look mingled with sorrow and filled her eyes. She rose on frail bony legs. Her silk gown fell to the floor and covered them.

She opened the dresser drawer in the nightstand next to the bed, pulled out three sheets of paper, and placed them on the bed next to the file of designs.

What’s going on?

One step at a time she walked away from the bed.

I looked at the paper and read it out loud. “I give this property to Park who has been a faithful assistant to me for so many years. The rest of my estate, stock, cars, and jet are to be divided among Holly and Nikolas Madison as well as Saint Ingram. God bless you all.”

Horror overtook me. “No.”

I snapped my attention back to her. “Wait. No! What are you doing? Please, don’t, Ivy. Please don’t do this.”

Old Me made it to glass doors and opened them.

“Oh no.” I shook my head. “That’s not the way to solve this. Are you kidding me? Just call them. Fix this! It’s that simple! Why are you being so hard-headed? They love you!”

Old Me stumbled onto the balcony.

“Wait!” I hurried forward and tried to grab her arms. I just needed to hold her to me and let her know that no matter what it would all be okay. But my hands went through her body, and I couldn’t stop anything. “Please, don’t do this. I love you! They love you!”

There, Old Me climbed her frail self onto the ledge of the balcony. Tears fell from her eyes. She whispered to the night sky. “I’m sorry.”

Then she dove out into the darkness.

“No!” I screamed. My body shook from the horror. My voice burned, but I couldn’t stop. “No!”

The balcony’s walls crumbled around us. The mansion screeched and cracked. Bits of black marble fell all over the place.

“No!”

The dark spirit appeared at my side. “Come.”

Terrified, I turned to him. “What? We have to save her. We—”

“Come.” He rose in the air.

Shocked, I lifted with him. “This isn’t my future. You’re a liar. You’re a bad spirit of some sort. This is not. . .no. I wouldn’t do that. I wouldn’t! I know what Mom did to everyone when she left like that. No.”

My body floated with the dark Ghost over the ledge. I looked down. Old Me’s body lay misshapen and broken in the snow. They probably wouldn’t find her until the next morning. The place was so massive.

“No.” I shook my head. “That’s not me. I rebuke that shit. You’re wrong.”

The figure flew close to me and spread his arms out. His sleeve lengthened again. Another opening appeared.

“What are you doing now?” I flapped my arms as if I could fly away from him. “I don’t like where you take me. Stay away!”

“Come.” He blurred to me and wrapped darkness around us.

“No!” I went blind again. Those same disheartening sensations overflowed in me, clogging my speech and eating me away. I reached my hands out and only grasped cold darkness.

When it stopped, all I could do was feel relief.

Panting, I opened my eyes and realized I was now in a small graveyard covered in snow. When I looked back, I spotted the same mansion from earlier, but now it was daylight. I figured it must’ve been Old Me’s private graveyard. There wasn’t much sun on this cold morning. Gray mist twisted into haunting shapes and then wisped around tombstones.

I rose from the ground and looked at the gray stone markers. One held my father’s name.

What? I buried him on my land? Why?

Right next to him was his wife and on the right, I spotted Timothy’s name. My heart ached.

I must’ve brought their bodies to my land and kept them here.

I studied the graves. The stonework had faded, telling me that Old Me had buried them years ago. Vines crawled over the side of each tombstone.

I scanned the tragic depressing space. “I want to leave.”

Behind me, the dark ghost gestured. “Come.”

“This is fucking sad.” Hot tears burned my eyes. I blinked them back. “I don’t like this lesson. I don’t want to be here.”

And then I spotted the worst possible scene I could have imagined. My knees threatened to buckle under me.

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