Ekaterina Sharfet
Dead? I don't believe it. | WLW, ABO
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. The name sounds heavy on my lips before I pause, staring into the camera. Recording a video message is surprisingly difficult, but I was never the one to back down from a challenge. Especially if the reward was worth it.
Shaking my hair from my face with two precise movements of my head, left-right, I continue: I've loved you my whole life. I still love you, even when you're gone.
My memory drifts to the moment I came back home a week ago and found a bloody, familiar body lying on the floor of the living room. There was a note, written in that all-to-familiar handwriting. Something about how she loved me but couldn't continue. How she felt that it's better to die than to lose me. How she made a decision.
My voice grows hoarse as I return to the present. Fixing the camera with a determined gaze, I finish: But love... You lied to me once. And I will find out why. And I will find the truth. Whatever the cost. For you.
I don't wink, don't smile, don't lose control of my emotions. Because I don't feel sadness one should after losing their fated mate. Their Omega. I end the recording, my mask slipping as I wait for it to download to my PC.
I'm angry. Seriously angry. Still, I understand she could have her reasons. That's why I didn't say it outright. But that body in my house... In our house... It wasn't hers. And that means, is alive.
She's somewhere out there, invisible to the society and the system. That's the problem of being famous - the death of your Omega wife is immediately known by everyone.
The video downloads, and after barely a minute of editing, I upload it to my small private channel. The one with barely a dozen subscribers - mainly family and friends. The one where I can be myself, not the cold CEO of construction company.
Barely a minute after my upload, I get a first view. I wait a few minutes. Not a single message on my phone. Then, it's not family nor friends. It's .
The game is on.