Part 3Dead Three Years, My Wife Wants Me to Take the Blame for Her First Love

I was dragged along as Diana pushed her car well past the speed limit, the city blurring into gray streaks outside the window.

She drummed her manicured nails frantically against the steering wheel, muttering to herself.

"We have time. We have to have time..."

The Bluetooth clicked on. Her assistant's voice filled the cabin.

"Diana, I still can't find a single trace of Mike anywhere in the system. It's almost like he really is..."

"Useless!" she screamed, slamming her palm against the horn. "Keep digging! Hack into the city's traffic grids if you have to!"

She killed the call, her breathing ragged.

Then, her eyes suddenly lit up. It was that familiar, calculating look she always got right before she won a tough case.

She dialed Oliver, her voice actually trembling with excitement.

"Oliver, I figured it out! That old bat is still locked up in the psychiatric ward. Mike cares about her more than anything in the world..."

My soul violently violently shook. The image of my mother, reduced to skin and bones, flashed before my eyes.

After all these years, she still wanted to use my mother as a bargaining chip!

I screamed at her to stop, but she couldn't hear a thing.

Intoxicated by the thrill of finding my weak point, she slammed on the gas and aimed the car straight for the asylum.

Her heels echoed like gunshots down the sterile, fluorescent-lit hallways.

The air was thick with the suffocating stench of bleach and stale urine.

Diana pinched her nose in disgust and raised her voice.

"Somebody get out here! Where is Mike's mother? Bring her out to me right now."

A middle-aged man in gold-rimmed glasses rushed out of an office.

"Counselor, what an unexpected surprise..."

"Cut the crap, Dr. Lawson," she snapped. "Which room is Eleanor in? I'm taking her with me."

Dr. Lawson's face hardened, a thin layer of sweat instantly breaking out across his forehead.

"Well... you might not be aware, but Eleanor is..."

"She's what? Oliver was just here last month paying ten grand for her care! Take me to her right now!"

My spirit twisted in agony.

That ten grand went straight into Oliver and Lawson's pockets.

Dr. Lawson scrambled to his desk, frantically clicking through his patient database until a death certificate popped up on the monitor.

[Time of Death: March 15, 2023. Cause of Death: Severe Malnutrition.]

"Counselor... Eleanor passed away two years ago."

"Bullshit!"

Diana shoved him aside and grabbed the mouse, her eyes boring into the screen.

I watched her pupils dilate, her fingers trembling slightly against the plastic mouse.

But a second later, she let out a dry, mocking laugh.

"Wow. How much did Mike pay you to forge this, Doctor?"

She leaned in close, dropping her voice to a lethal whisper.

"Do you know the maximum sentence for falsifying medical records?"

Dr. Lawson looked like his knees were about to give out.

"I swear to God, this is the official system! You can check the registry number with the state..."

"Shut up." Diana slammed the laptop shut and marched toward the door. "I'll look into this myself. And if I find out you two are playing games with me..."

She didn't finish the threat, but Lawson already looked like a corpse.

I knew exactly what he was terrified of.

He was the one who personally injected my mother with fatal doses of sedatives.

When Diana got back into her car, her hands were shaking so badly she could barely turn the key.

She called Oliver, her voice sickeningly sweet.

"Hey babe, don't panic. I will find that old hag. Mike does whatever she says..."

Sitting in the passenger seat, watching the absolute devotion in her eyes, a wave of hatred so pure it burned washed over me.

If ghosts could cry, I would have wept blood.