Chapter 4

Back in the master bedroom, Jonathan sat on the edge of the mattress. His eyes drifted upward, locking onto the single wedding photo hanging on the wall.

He pressed his lips into a hard line and looked back down at his phone.

It was my chat history with him. He had sent message after message, but I hadn't replied once.

Overnight, the power dynamic had shifted entirely.

A cruel glint flashed in his eyes.

"Fine. Have it your way, Emily. Don't come crying to me later."

I stared at him, a sickening knot of dread forming in my stomach.

He opened his contacts, hit a number, and brought the phone to his ear. His voice was deadpan, completely void of emotion.

"This is Jonathan Rivers. Cut all funding for the patient in ICU Room 301. I'm pulling my financial authorization."

The world tilted on its axis. My soul felt like it had been thrown into a woodchipper. I dropped to my knees, wrapping my arms around my chest as a phantom agony tore through me.

He actually did it. He pulled the plug on my mother.

Even in death, I couldn't protect her.

I traded my life for his sick game, and it didn't buy me a single ounce of his mercy.

If there was any lingering, pathetic fantasy left in my heart that he ever loved me, it officially evaporated into thin air.

But after hanging up, Jonathan didn't look triumphant. He looked deeply unsettled. He kept staring at his phone, his thumb hovering over the screen, waiting for a text that would never come.

A soft knock on the door broke the silence.

Charlotte stood in the doorway, awkwardly gesturing to the bandages wrapping her right arm. She gave him a helpless pout.

"I'm so sorry to bother you, Mr. Rivers, but I can't really manage my buttons with one hand. Could you help me change into my pajamas?"

Jonathan cleared his throat, suddenly looking uncomfortable. "Uh... I don't know if that's a good idea..."

Charlotte giggled, stepping into the room. "Come on, Jonathan. We practically took baths together when we were kids. Why are you acting so shy? If you're that terrified of Emily getting jealous, I can just sleep in my day clothes."

She turned around, feigning a sigh, and started to walk away. Jonathan immediately reached out and grabbed her wrist.

"I'm not scared of her getting jealous," he muttered defensively.

"It's just changing a shirt. I washed your lingerie before, remember?" he said, stepping closer. He reached out and slowly began unfastening the buttons of her blouse, a faint flush creeping up his neck.

"Hell, I was the one running to the pharmacy to buy your tampons," he added.

With a faint smile curling her lips, Charlotte fixed her hungry gaze upon him.

Even as a ghost, I could feel the suffocating sexual tension radiating off the two of them.

Before I knew it, Charlotte's uninjured arm was draped over his shoulders. She pulled him in. Their faces were inches apart.

Jonathan's eyelids fluttered shut. He leaned in to close the gap.

I watched them coldly. For the first time, I didn't feel heartbroken. I just felt nauseous.

I remembered the countless screaming matches we had over Charlotte. I remembered begging him, literally crying on the floor, asking him to just set some boundaries with her.

And he would always look at me like I was insane. "She's like a sister to me! We're just best friends! I could sleep naked in the same bed as her, and nothing would happen! You're so damn paranoid!"

I was such a gullible idiot.

Just as their lips were about to brush, a jarring ringtone shattered the silence, stopping them.

Jonathan snapped his eyes open, shoving Charlotte back like he had just been electrocuted. He scrambled for his phone on the nightstand.

"Hello? Is this Jonathan Rivers, husband of Emily Linwood? This is the Riverdale Police Department. We've apprehended the suspect who stole your wife's phone, as well as the suspect responsible for her murder. We need you to come down to the precinct to formally identify the body and sign the release paperwork."

Jonathan's face hardened into a scowl. "Murder? Seriously? Are you the new actors she hired? She must be loaded to afford this many extras."

The officer's tone sharpened at his arrogance.

"Mr. Rivers, this is not a prank. It is standard protocol to notify the next of kin. If you doubt the legitimacy of this call, I suggest you Google the official dispatch number for our department. You'll find it matches the caller ID on your screen."

Jonathan hung up immediately. He opened Safari and typed in the search bar. But his thumb froze over the "Search" button.

His hand began to tremble above the keyboard. His breathing turned shallow and erratic. The color rapidly drained from his face.

He was panicking. Was he scared that I was actually dead? Or was he terrified that I was still alive to complicate his life?