Billionaire Husband Went Mad After I Died

This is the fourth year since my death.

Tristan Ashcroft continues his life of debauchery, playing the part of the carefree playboy.

I float in the air, watching quietly as he lounges with women on both arms, looking utterly at ease.

His rowdy friends take turns toasting him.

The atmosphere was perfectly lively until someone suddenly brought it up.

"Ash, hasn't that little simp been gone for a while?"

"..."

The crowd fell silent.

The "little simp" he referred to was me.

My father was the Ashcroft family's gardener. My mother was their housekeeper.

So since I was a child, they always taught me to please Tristan Ashcroft.

Without the Ashcrofts, our family might not have survived.

I did as I was told.

But Tristan hated me. How much did he hate me?

Just hearing my name would send him into a rage.

Like now.

The smile froze on his lips. His cold gaze suddenly turned toward the one who had spoken.

The man remained oblivious.

He seemed drunk, completely wasted.

He opened his mouth and continued. "I mean, Jade Valentine isn't bad looking. She's got a great figure. Since you were forced to marry her anyway, Ash, you might as well not let it go to waste."

Crash—

Tristan smashed his glass. Shards of crystal scattered across the floor.

One piece even cut his hand.

Red liquid dripped down his skin drop by drop.

His female companions were terrified by his outburst. They gasped and scrambled away.

The others hurried to smooth things over, forcing dry laughs. "He's drunk out of his mind, Ash. Don't be angry."

"Yeah, Sophia Lancaster is the only one we acknowledge as our sister-in-law. Jade Valentine? She's nothing!"