The Intrusion Chapter 1

I returned to the world ten years after I died.

I reappeared just in time to see Claire Ashton—the woman I loved—finally letting me go. She was marrying Sam, the assistant who had been by her side for years.

My parents were in the front row, weeping with joy.

My sister, Sarah, stood next to the groom, smiling, watching them exchange vows.

And then I walked in.

My arrival was a match thrown on gasoline. The joy evaporated. Claire, my Claire, let go of her new husband’s hand and lunged at me, her fingers digging into my wrist like claws.

“Where have you been?”

The ballroom erupted in whispers.

The groom, Sam, humiliated, turned and ran. He bolted from the hall, right into the street. We heard the screech of tires and a sickening thud.

The sudden shock was too much for my mother. She collapsed.

My sister, Sarah, her eyes blazing, shoved me. Hard.

“We were finally okay! We were healing! Why did you have to come back and destroy everything?”

My fingertips tingled. I looked down. They didn't seem to want me back. Not really.

The clock in the grand hall chimed. I felt a strange lightness in my wrist. One of the three faint scars that had appeared there when I woke up... simply faded away.

They were getting their wish.

I only had two days left.

…

The EMTs were shouting, “Who’s family? We need family for the vic!”

My parents and Sarah all shoved their hands in the air, “We are! We are!” They climbed into the ambulance without a single look back.

I didn't get it.

Their son, their "lost" son, was standing right here, and they didn't even... they weren't happy.

A shadow fell over me. Claire. Her face was an iron mask. Ten years had forged her into someone I barely recognized, someone who could lock down her emotions in a split second. Her eyes were flat, cold.

“Get in the car.”

She’s a billionaire now, the CEO of Ashton Enterprises, but she was still driving the old Cullinan I’d bought for her when I was 20.

Habit took over. I reached for the passenger door.

“Wait—” Claire’s voice was sharp.

I stopped. The passenger seat was covered in tacky, cutesy stickers. A little plaque read, “Hubby’s Spot.” Tucked onto the dash was a photo of her and Sam, laughing.

Claire. My Claire, who hated clutter, who was so territorial she’d once yelled at me for leaving a water bottle in her car... had let someone else leave his mark all over her space.

I tried to smile. “Right.”

I slid into the back. The silence in the car was suffocating.

She’s probably trying to figure out how to get rid of me, I thought.

I nervously picked at my cuticles. “Claire, you don't have to... I know this is a lot. I’ll be gone soon.”

The brakes shrieked. The Cullinan screeched to a halt, throwing me hard against the front seat. My head snapped back.

I looked up, rubbing my forehead. Claire was staring at me in the rearview mirror, her calm expression fractured by a sudden, terrifying rage.

“Julian,” she hissed, “do you even have a goddamn heart?”

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. Her phone buzzed, a frantic, jarring ring. She glanced at the screen and wrenched the car back into traffic, heading for the hospital.

When we got there, Sarah was waiting, blocking the door to Sam's room. “He's not stable. You can’t go in.”

I could hear my mom’s voice from inside, soft and cooing. “You need to rest, Sonny. Momma’s here.”

Sonny. That was my nickname.

Through the crack in the door, I saw my dad. He was sitting by the bed, hand-feeding Sam yellow Jell-O from a plastic cup.

These were my things. My parents. My nickname.

Sam saw Claire and his face lit up. Then, as if remembering, his expression crumpled. Claire went right to him, her hand brushing his.

“The doctor said you’re going to be fine. A few bumps, that’s all.” Her voice was... gentle. A gentleness I hadn't heard since I got back.

“Jealous?”

Sarah’s voice was like acid in my ear.

“You have no idea, do you, Julian? You just... disappeared. Vanished. Not a call, not a text. Mom and Dad were wrecked! They thought you were dead! And Claire...”

She jabbed a finger at me. “Claire nearly died looking for you. A car crash. She was in a coma for a year, and in a hospital bed for five. Sam was the one who sat by her bed. Sam was the one who came to our house every goddamn Sunday, who dragged Mom and Dad out of their grief. He put this family back together.”

Her voice dropped to a venomous whisper. “And now you show up? Because you heard she was marrying someone else? You couldn't stand that, could you?”

Every word was a nail. I couldn't breathe.

“Sarah,” I whispered, my voice cracking. “I didn't... I didn't go abroad.”

“This whole time. These ten years... I... I’ve been dead.”