Part 1Married to My Parents Killer

On my wedding day, my fiancée was at her parents’ house, waiting for me to pick her up. She never made it to the limo. Instead, she got a call from Nate, the ghost of the boy she was supposed to marry.

She brought him to the venue herself and, in a move that felt ripped from a soap opera, simply swapped out the groom.

When the news reached me, my world didn't just collapse; it was vaporized. I begged my parents to drive me there, to get some kind of explanation, to demand an answer for the public humiliation.

We never made it. On the way, a truck ran a red light. My parents were killed instantly. My mother’s last act was to throw her body over mine. I survived.

The aftermath was a blur of grief and guilt that curdled into a severe case of PTSD. For two years, I was a ghost haunting the ruins of my own life. And through it all, it was Stella’s older sister, Annelise, who never left my side. She was my anchor in a world that had come unmoored.

The day I was finally cleared by my therapist, Annelise celebrated by lighting up the city skyline with fireworks, just for me. Her eyes, glistening with tears in the colored light, met mine. “Will you marry me, Ethan?” she asked.

After two years of her unwavering devotion, of her pulling me back from the brink time and again, my heart had already become hers. I nodded, my own tears finally falling not from grief, but from a desperate, fragile hope.

Three years into our marriage, she got pregnant. I was so ecstatic I wanted to rent a billboard.

But that same night, I overheard her on the phone with her assistant, her voice a low, urgent whisper in her home office.

“I’ve been on birth control this whole time. How could this happen? I can’t have this baby. I promised Nate I wouldn’t have another man’s child.”

The assistant’s voice trembled. “But if Mr. Hayes finds out… this could get very messy.”

“And what about the accident from five years ago?” the assistant pressed. “If that ever came out, if he knew we were the ones who arranged it…”

Annelise’s laugh was like the chime of a cracked bell.

“For Nate, I’d do anything.”

“Besides,” she added, her voice dropping to ice, “I married him, didn’t I? Isn’t that enough?”

* * *

“But Ms. Prescott, he’s wanted this baby for three years. Losing it… I think it might destroy him.” The assistant’s plea was faint through the closed door. “You orchestrated that crash just so Nate could marry your sister without a scene. Mr. Hayes almost died. Haven’t you done enough? Are you really going to sacrifice your own child now?”

I could hear the soft, rhythmic sound of Annelise’s fingers stroking something on her desk. I knew it was the small, polished wooden box she always kept there. Her voice was thick with a martyr’s resolve.

“What does it matter? All I want is for Nate to be happy. For him to marry the woman he loved, I had to make sure Ethan and his family never made it to that wedding.” Her tone was chillingly pragmatic. “The crash… I admit it wasn't handled perfectly. Ethan survived. But I corrected that mistake, didn’t I? I married him. His future is secure.”

She paused. “As for this child, it can’t stay. Nate’s wife is already four months along. I will not let my baby become an obstacle to his. As long as Nate’s life is perfect, I’ll have no regrets.”

“I’ll have Ethan take me to the clinic tomorrow for a check-up. I’ll get the doctor to say the fetus isn’t viable. He can’t argue with that, no matter how much it hurts him…”

I couldn’t listen anymore. I stumbled back to our bedroom, my legs giving out as soon as I shut the door behind me. I slid to the floor, my body a dead weight.

My marriage. My life. It was all a meticulously crafted lie. My parents’ death wasn’t an accident.

My wife… the woman who held me through nightmares… was their killer. And now, she was planning to kill our child.

After my parents died, I had drowned in self-blame. I believed my insistence on confronting Stella was the reason they were on that road. It was a guilt so profound it broke my mind. During the worst of my episodes, doctors had to strap me to the bed, because the moment I was free, I’d try to hurt myself, to claw my way out of a life I couldn’t bear.

And through all of it, Annelise was there, whispering, “It wasn’t your fault, Ethan. It was a tragic accident.”

It wasn’t an accident. It was proof of her love for another man.

And now, to ensure Nate’s child would have an undisputed claim to the Prescott family fortune, she was willing to sacrifice her own.

My parents’ bodies, my entire life, and soon, the life of my unborn child—all of it buried beneath the monument of her twisted devotion to Nate.

My hands began to shake uncontrollably. I thought of just an hour ago, how I’d knelt and pressed my ear to her still-flat stomach, giddy with joy.

The child I had prayed for for three years was in there. But it was also the child of my parents’ murderer.

As I sat there, paralyzed by the horror, Annelise walked in and found me on the floor.

“Ethan? Honey, what’s wrong? Get up, the floor is cold. Are you not feeling well?”

The concern in her eyes was so potent it was almost tangible, identical to the look she’d given me every day for the past five years. She was a master of her craft. For five years, her entire world had seemingly revolved around me. If I so much as coughed, she’d stay up all night, a hand on my forehead.

I dropped my gaze, unable to bear the sight of that fraudulent fire in her eyes.

“I’m fine. Just… got a little light-headed. I guess the news about the baby finally hit me.”

She breathed a sigh of relief, kneeling down to help me up with that familiar, gentle strength.

“Oh, you,” she murmured, patting her own stomach. “Naughty baby, making your daddy fall down already. Just wait until we meet you, I’ll have a thing or two to say.” She smiled up at me. “Speaking of which, Ethan, come with me to the clinic tomorrow for a check-up. We’ve waited so long for this little one, we can’t take any chances.”

Her gaze drifted down to her abdomen, her expression softening into a portrait of maternal love.

If I hadn’t heard that phone call, I would have believed every word. I would have seen a loving wife, an expectant mother. Now, I saw only a monster.

I wanted to scream the questions at her.

Will we really get to meet this child?

Did you ever want him at all?

Instead, I swallowed the acid in my throat and nodded.

“Let’s get some sleep, Annelise. I’m feeling tired.”

She didn't suspect a thing, nodding as she switched off the lights.

I lay in the darkness, rigid, listening to her breathing even out beside me. Hours later, a soft murmur escaped her lips in the quiet of the room.

“Nate… Oh, Nate…”

A single, hot tear finally broke free, tracing a path from my eye into my hairline, and was gone.

I slipped my phone from under the pillow, the screen a harsh glare in the dark. I sent a text to my sister in London.

Kate, I need your help. Please, I need your help. I’m coming to you in a few days. Wait for me.