Chapter 3

3.

The recovery was slow. I spent a week in the hospital before I could move.

Stellan never showed up. He just texted saying he was busy with a business trip.

I knew it was a lie.

On my third day in the hospital, Nadia was constantly posting photos of her beach vacation.

In one corner of a photo, I saw an arm wearing a wedding ring.

I recognized it instantly. It was Stellan.

The caption was like a slap in the face: "He takes every bit of my sadness seriously."

Without love, there is no hate. He never loved me. It was always Nadia.

When I was discharged, I went home. The coffee table was covered in half-eaten cake and two wine glasses.

I walked into the bedroom and saw long, red curly hairs on my bed.

Nadia's signature look.

Rage burned through my veins.

I forced myself to stay calm, sat at my computer, and pulled up the security footage.

I had installed the cameras because I wanted a cat.

Later, Stellan forced me to get rid of the cat, saying he was allergic. I forgot to tell him the cameras were still there.

The footage was from the night of my emergency surgery.

Stellan and Nadia were rolling around in my bed. I could hear their laughter and heavy breathing.

What chilled me most was when the hospital called Stellan.

He just muttered, "What a buzzkill," and tried to ignore it.

Nadia wrapped her arms around his neck and pouted.

"Ugh, you aren't her only family. Tell the hospital to call her mom."

"But her mom has a heart condition. She hasn't been doing well..."

Stellan sounded slightly hesitant.

Nadia kissed him and spoke in a wicked, light tone.

"Then it's the perfect time for an accident. Besides,"

"Her mom can't afford the surgery anyway. What's the difference if she dies now or later? At least she won't bother us."

Stellan wavered, so Nadia pretended to get angry and tried to leave.

He immediately pulled her back, promising anything. "Fine, fine. I'll tell the hospital to call her mother."

I stared at the screen, my hands shaking uncontrollably.

I played the footage over and over again. I was like a masochist, drowning in the agony of this slow execution.

They really did it. They intentionally killed my mother.

The man I gave everything to was a cold-blooded murderer.