Chapter 2My Wife The Murderer

The deaths of my in-laws were officially categorized as "Death due to failed resuscitation."

Savannah used every connection she had within the hospital to suppress the incident.

The reports filed with the oversight committees were seamless and airtight.

Troy’s surgical error was perfectly obscured by the severity of my in-laws' existing injuries.

I locked myself in the guest room for three days, refusing to eat or drink.

On the fourth day, I finally emerged. I needed a conclusion.

Savannah was sitting on the living room sofa, leisurely flipping through a medical journal while wearing a sheet mask. She showed no sign of grief.

On the coffee table lay a divorce agreement, already signed by her.

She didn't even lift her eyelids when I entered.

"Finally came to your senses?"

"If you have, sign it. The house is yours, the car is yours, plus a five million settlement..."

"Just don't bother me again."

Her tone was that of someone swatting away a persistent, bothersome beggar.

I ignored the agreement. Instead, I tossed a thick file onto the table in front of her.

"I’m filing a lawsuit against Troy and the hospital for gross medical negligence."

Every word tore from my throat with a metallic, blood-raw edge. My voice was hoarse, but my resolve was absolute.

My in-laws would not die in vain. Troy would pay the price.

At that, Savannah finally looked up from her magazine.

She glanced at the file's title, then looked at me as if I were a particularly poor joke.

"Ethan, have you gone completely insane?"

She ripped the sheet mask off her face and casually flung the wet, cold thing onto the legal documents. She sprang to her feet, looming over me.

"I told you, their death has nothing to do with Troy. They were too far gone to begin with!"

"Why can't you just listen?"

"I saw it with my own eyes," I said calmly, meeting her gaze. I was no longer the docile, eager-to-please husband she knew.

"He lacerated the aorta. He missed the critical window."

"He needs to face consequences."

"And what good is your testimony? Do you have proof?" Savannah sneered, crossing her arms.

"That entire OR team is my team. Who do you think is going to testify for you?"

"I’m warning you, Ethan. Don't be an idiot. Put this trash away!"

Savannah snatched the file off the table and hurled it at my face.

The sharp corner of the folder sliced my cheek, leaving a thin, burning red line.

"I don't need a witness," I said, ignoring the sting. "I’ll subpoena the OR surveillance footage."

"The cameras were broken," she replied without hesitation.

In that moment, staring into her icy eyes, the last flickering candle of hope in my heart was extinguished.

I looked at the woman I had loved for ten years and felt an utter, chilling foreignness.

Her face was a mask of cold calculation and indifference. To protect her golden boy, she was willing to twist the truth and sacrifice human lives.

"Savannah..."

I looked at her, slowly articulating each word.

"Those were two lives. They were our parents."

"So what?"

Her impatience was clear, her voice laced with extreme contempt.

"They were just useless small-town trash. It’s an honor for them to add a line to Troy’s resume!"

Trash!

Honor!

Those two words struck me like a pair of bullets, piercing my skull.

I was cold all over, from my head to my toes.

In her eyes, my parents were nothing more than sacrificial dogs.

I forced a smile.

I slowly bent down, picked up the divorce agreement, and reached for the pen.

A look of smug victory flashed across Savannah’s face.

"That’s more like it."

"Ethan, you can’t win against me. Take the money and quietly go back to whatever hole you crawled out of..."