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Ever since I was in my mother’s womb, I could see things that others couldn't. I could see the shimmering, translucent forms of souls, hear the whispers of spirits tethered to the earthly plane, and watch astral projections wander away from sleeping bodies. Growing up, this ability didn't make me special; it made me a pariah. I was the weird, quiet child who stared into empty corners and spoke to thin air. Because of the heavy, chilling aura that always seemed to cling to me, my biological parents, Richard and Mary Vance, looked at me with disguised disgust. They wanted a perfect, socially acceptable daughter to parade at their country club galas. When I failed to be that, they adopted Chloe. Chloe was a golden-haired, blue-eyed angel with a silver tongue. She was everything they wanted, and they showered her with the love and affection that was my birthright. I became the shadow in my own home, the forgotten daughter forced to do the chores while Chloe took riding lessons and attended debutante balls. Her crowning achievement, the ultimate validation of my parents' blatant favoritism, was sinking her perfectly manicured claws into Julian Sterling. Julian was the ruthless, enigmatic CEO of Sterling Enterprises, a billionaire who ruled New York's financial district with an iron fist. He was the city’s most eligible bachelor, an alpha male whose cold, calculating gaze made grown men tremble. Chloe played the role of the innocent, sweet savior perfectly, captivating him entirely. She became the undisputed queen of the Vance family, and their wedding was slated to be the social event of the decade. But a mere week before she was supposed to walk down the aisle, the untouchable billionaire proved he was agonizingly mortal. A horrific pile-up on the slick, rain-swept interstate left Julian's sleek Aston Martin a twisted wreck of metal. He survived, but a traumatic brain injury plunged him into a deep, unresponsive coma. The media swarmed, the stock market panicked, and the doctors whispered the terrifying words: vegetative state. When the Sterling matriarch, Eleanor Sterling, came to our estate, the atmosphere was suffocating. The Sterling empire's stock was plummeting; they needed to project stability. Eleanor, her eyes red-rimmed but her posture as rigid as steel, demanded that Chloe honor the engagement and stay by Julian’s side to show the world that the Sterling family was united and hopeful. Standing by the grand staircase, hidden in the shadows, I watched the scene unfold. Chloe, wearing a designer silk robe, scoffed, her beautiful face twisting into a mask of pure revulsion. "You expect me to play nursemaid? To wipe a vegetable's ass?" she shrieked, entirely dropping her sweet persona. "I am twenty-three years old! I am not throwing my life away to sit in a sterile room listening to a ventilator. The doctors said he might never wake up! I'd rather die than tie myself to a cripple." Eleanor gasped, clutching her pearls, her face turning pale with shock and fury. My parents immediately rushed to coddle Chloe, trying to soothe her while gently suggesting to Eleanor that perhaps a professional medical team would be better suited. That was when the temperature in the room plummeted. A heavy, biting frost crept over the marble floors. I blinked, and there he was. Hovering just behind Chloe’s shoulder was the astral projection of Julian Sterling. He wasn't entirely transparent, but rather a glowing, bluish-grey apparition. His sharp, devastatingly handsome face was contorted in sheer, unadulterated rage. "You treacherous, heartless bitch," Julian’s spirit snarled, his deep, resonant voice echoing only in my ears. He raised a ghostly fist, swinging it at Chloe’s head, but it passed harmlessly through her blonde curls, creating nothing but a slight breeze that made her shiver. "The doctors said I have an excellent chance of waking up within six months! And this is how you repay me? After everything I gave you? If anyone would just stay by me and keep my mind anchored... God, when I wake up, I am going to destroy her. I’ll give fifty million dollars to whoever steps up, just to spite this gold-digging whore!" Fifty million dollars. My heart hammered against my ribs. I didn't care about marrying into high society. I didn't care about the glamour or the prestige. But fifty million dollars? That was freedom. That was a one-way ticket out of this miserable, abusive household. That was enough to fund the art degree I was never allowed to pursue, to buy a house far away from the Vances, and to never look back. I stepped out of the shadows, raising a trembling hand. "I... I will do it." The entire room fell dead silent. Chloe turned to me, a cruel, mocking laugh escaping her glossed lips. "You?" Chloe sneered, looking me up and down like I was a piece of trash stuck to her designer shoe. "You want to go play Florence Nightingale? Mom, Dad, look at her. She’s so desperate for a man she’s willing to throw herself at a comatose body. How pathetic." Instead of defending me, my mother aggressively pushed me forward. "Actually, Eleanor, this is perfect. Harper has always had a knack for... menial labor. She took care of my ailing parents before they passed. She’s practically a built-in maid. If she wants to go wipe his brow, let her. We give our blessing." They were tossing me away like garbage. But I didn't care. I kept my eyes fixed on the floor, absorbing the humiliation. Let them laugh. Julian's spirit, however, floated over to me, looking at my parents with absolute disgust. "Good god, they treat their own flesh and blood like a stray dog. I thought Chloe was the victim in this family... I was an absolute fool. I've been played." He crossed his ghostly arms, staring at me intently. "Alright, Harper Vance. Let's see what you've got." Eleanor Sterling, desperate and out of options, grabbed my hands. Her grip was tight, trembling with a mother's desperation. "If you do this, Harper... if you care for him, speak to him, keep him tethered to this world until he wakes... the Sterling family will owe you a debt we can never repay. You will be his wife, his savior." "I don't need a title, Mrs. Sterling," I said softly. "I just want to help." And as Julian's spirit trailed behind me, shaking his head at his ex-fiancée's cruelty, I silently prayed that the ruthless billionaire was a man of his word.