Chapter 2
Andrew marched toward his car in rage and threw himself into the driver's seat.
Tina took her sweet time walking around to the passenger side. She slipped into the leather seat, her brow furrowed in a delicate, perfectly practiced expression of distress.
When Andrew saw her look so troubled, his irritation melted into immediate, protective reassurance.
"Don't worry about it. She's not going anywhere," he said confidently. "With the kind of debt she's swimming in, where could she possibly run to?
"Even if I have to tear this entire city apart brick by brick, I will drag her out of hiding for you."
Tina's eyes shimmered with overwhelming gratitude. She sobbed, "Andrew, you're always so good to me.
"But... what if she really is dead? Then who's going to carry my debt?"
"Dead?" Andrew scoffed loudly. "People like her are cockroaches. They don't die that easily.
"And even if she is dead, I'll drag her ghost back here and make sure she takes the fall for you!
"I will not let a single blemish ruin your perfect life, Tina. I promise."
Hovering in the backseat of the luxury car, I stared at their intertwined hands. A bitter laugh bubbled up in my throat.
Once upon a time, we were exactly like that. We were inseparable. He would hold my hand with that exact same fierce protectiveness, swearing to shield me from the world.
Back then, he wasn't the cold, calculating sociopath sitting in the driver's seat today.
His eyes would turn into crescents whenever he smiled. When I worked grueling 14-hour shifts at the firm, he would sneak past the security desk just to bring me midnight takeout. When I caught the flu, he refused to leave my bedside, sleeping in a stiff chair just to make sure my fever broke.
We fell in love. We got married. Everything felt so effortlessly perfect, like it was written in the stars.
But then, Tina came back.
She was his childhood sweetheart. After spending years partying abroad, she suddenly reappeared in our city, dragging a massive trail of romantic scandals, unpaid debts, and a mouth full of sweet, manipulative lies.
The moment she stepped back into his life, Andrew fundamentally changed.
Suddenly, he started looking down on me. He grew resentful of my low income and dismissive of my lack of romantic flair.
He even started finding fault in how much I cared for him, sneering that my devotion was "pathetic and suffocating."
And then, the other shoe dropped. Tina racked up a colossal gambling debt with the underground syndicates. The loan sharks tracked her down, holding a knife to her throat and threatening to chop her into pieces if she didn't pay up.
Andrew panicked. He was terrified. He couldn't bear the thought of his fragile little darling suffering even a scratch.
And more importantly, he absolutely refused to let a massive criminal debt stain her pristine societal reputation.
So, he found a scapegoat, me.
That night, out of the blue, he actually cooked dinner. He set the table perfectly and poured two glasses of an extremely rare vintage red wine he had been saving for years.
I was so naive. I thought he had finally realized how cold he had been. I thought he wanted to fix our marriage. I never suspected he would spike my drink.
When I finally regained consciousness, my head was splitting. Sitting on the table directly in front of me was a massive loan assumption contract, my forged signature already inked at the bottom.
Andrew was standing by the window. In his hand, he was casually flipping through my mother's critical care medical files.
"Claire, listen to me," he said. "As long as you agree to take on this debt, I will personally guarantee that your mother receives the best medical care in the country. But if you fight me on this, her treatments stop tomorrow."
His voice sounded terrifyingly gentle.
I stared at him through blurry eyes. For the very first time, I felt like I was looking at a complete stranger.
In the end, I had no choice. I took the fall.
But underground loan sharks didn't care about fairness. They didn't care whose name was originally on the ledger.
They only cared about two things: money or blood.
The day I died, it was pouring rain.
A group of masked men cornered me in a blind alley. Their fists, their boots, and their steel pipes rained down on me harder than the storm.
I curled into a fetal position on the freezing, flooded concrete. My vision went entirely black. In my final moments, the only things I could hear were the horrific sound of my own bones snapping and the relentless, deafening roar of the rain.
And where was Andrew while I was bleeding out in the gutter?
He was sitting in a Michelin-star restaurant with Tina, clinking champagne glasses to celebrate successfully clearing her slate.
From the red wine and candlelight to the constant laughter, every element of a perfect evening was in place.
Agonizing memories of the past flooded my mind, triggering a splitting headache that felt like it would never end.
I squeezed my eyes shut, forcing myself to snap back to the present. When I opened my eyes, the sports car was pulling into the driveway of their sprawling estate. Andrew stepped out, immediately opening the door for Tina.
She looped her arm through his, resting her head delicately against his shoulder as they walked up the manicured stone path.
I drifted behind them, watching them step into the brightly lit, opulent foyer. My heart was entirely numb.
Tina wrapped her arms around his waist from behind, letting out a soft whisper.
"Andrew... what if we really can't find her?"
Andrew laughed, totally full of himself.
"Don't worry about it, baby. She wouldn't dare disappear. I still hold the keys to her mother's life support. She'll come crawling back."
The warm, golden light of the chandelier illuminated his smug face, and a wave of sickening irony washed over me.
"Little did he know, the day I took my last breath, my mother took hers too, her heart failing her in a hospital ward after one too many threats from the men chasing our debts.
And in three years, Andrew hadn't even bothered to visit her room once.