Chapter 3
After a few days, everything was set. I went back home with my suitcase.
Edith opened the door. The moment I saw her, I bowed to her. "Please, can you talk to Michael for me and ask him not to hate me anymore? I swear, it wasn't on purpose," I said.
Edith was clearly stunned. She hadn't expected me to come back acting so desperate.
Michael hurried out of the bedroom, still hitching up his pants in a panic. I just watched him without a hint of surprise.
"Michael, can you forgive me?" I asked.
Just then, the pregnancy results I'd tucked inside my pants pocket slipped out and landed right on the floor.
"You... you're pregnant?" Edith picked up the paper, completely stunned.
"Cindy, sit down," she said gently. I scoffed in my mind. Ever since I married Michael, she had never called me Cindy, but only Cynthia. Now she was acting sweet all of a sudden.
Michael came closer and hugged me tightly, his eyes filled with anticipation.
I knew he'd been waiting for the baby for two long years.
"Michael, let's just focus on our family of four from now on, okay?" I said softly.
"Okay, Cindy, I'm so happy," he replied, joy written all over his face.
"You're going to have a grandson. Aren't you happy?" I asked, looking straight at Edith.
"I'm... I'm really happy. Honestly," Edith muttered, giving Michael a sidelong glare, but he was too caught up in the moment to even notice.
That night, we all celebrated my pregnancy at home.
I made sure Edith kept her glass full, practically forcing her to drink with me.
Michael had already knocked back too many drinks and was out of it.
When it was late at night, the whole apartment was filled with the sound of snoring—everyone was out cold except me, wide awake and alert.
Moving quietly in the dark, I secretly installed surveillance cameras in every single room.
I used to trust Michael with everything.
Edith was always the one taking care of all the stuff around the apartment.
But that night, as I searched through every drawer and cabinet, I stumbled onto something that sent chills down my spine.
The documents were all about Michael's ex-wife, Melanie Lewis.
When I saw what was written there, I just collapsed onto the floor, clamping a hand over my mouth to keep from crying out.
The next day, I told Michael and Edith that I was heading back to my parents' place to rest up for the baby.
I behaved normally and acted super enthusiastic and cheerful. Michael and Edith didn't suspect a thing.
With big smiles, they brought me back to my family's place.
First thing I did when I got home was lay everything out for my parents—no holding back, I gave them the full story.
They didn't blame me, not even for a second. Turned out they'd known about the abuse all those years.
However, I'd been so damn stubborn that nobody could talk sense into me.
Dad looked me right in the eyes and said, "Cindy, don't worry. Leave it to me, and I'll make sure this is handled beautifully. You're gonna get payback for everything you've suffered."
Right then, I was seriously grateful for being born into a powerful family. With them behind me, I finally had someone strong enough to stand up for me.
"Cynthia, I've just sent Michael's full background to your inbox. Make sure you're prepared before you look," my cousin called and told me.
When I opened up the email, it honestly felt like I'd been hit by a bolt of lightning.
Michael hadn't simply gotten divorced—his wife had died.
Melanie and his mother had both gotten into a horrible car crash together.
Right before the accident, Melanie had taken out a massive life insurance policy with Michael as the sole beneficiary.
The neighbors always gossiped that after years of marriage, Michael and Melanie tried everything to have kids, but nothing ever worked out.
They could often hear Michael beating Melanie up while shouting, "You can't even give me a son."
Something just didn't add up, so there were a lot of rumors floating around online about Michael back then.
But after months of digging, nobody ever found a shred of proof, so Melanie's death got written off as just a tragic accident.
Since his mother was in the car, too, it seemed impossible that he'd plan the car accident. Eventually, the Internet moved on, and the whole thing faded away.
The moment I turned to the next page, terror crashed over me so hard that I collapsed in tears, shaking uncontrollably.
Michael had changed his name.
After that, he moved far away to a distant new city, leaving his mother all alone in a long-term acute care hospital.
Melanie's parents had died one after another, swallowed by grief after losing their daughter.
And as the first legal heir, Michael got all her family's inheritance.
Michael had clawed his way out of nowhere—a total nobody—and pulled off the ultimate rags-to-riches transformation, like he turned into a whole new person overnight.
Thinking back on how we "had first met," I realized that nothing about it was accidental.
The files even said he'd been digging through all my social media accounts long before we ever crossed paths.
I'd put all my trust in him, never even once bothering to look into who he really was.
But he'd been secretly gathering info on me, planting himself right beside me the whole time, hiding in plain sight.
Obviously, his next target was me—I had almost the exact same wealth and family background as Melanie.
Luckily, I'd bailed on him—emotionally, completely. Otherwise, I might've ended up exactly like her.
Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to calm down and kept reading.
Edith wasn't nearly fifty like she had always made out.
Michael was 35, and Edith was only seven years older—just 42.
Just like she'd said, Edith was already his woman back when Michael was still married the first time.
I scoffed inwardly. Their bond really was solid.
I couldn't help but wonder, when disaster really struck, whether they would still have each other's backs or would just cut and run for themselves.