My Billionaire Husband Wants Me to Save His Mistress, But I'm Already Dead

Seven years after my death, my billionaire husband, Carter, sent me a text because of his assistant-turned-mistress, Chloe.

"Harper, Chloe had another hit-and-run. Get over here and take the fall for her!"

"Oh, and when you come to meet us, grab us a pack of condoms."

When he didn’t get a reply, he lost his patience and stormed into my old apartment. But the person who opened the door wasn't me. It was my landlord.

"What are you talking about?" Mr. Henderson, the landlord, looked at him in confusion. "I’m Harper’s landlord. Harper died seven years ago."