Eleanor placed some documents on the table and poured me a glass of warm water. She then began saying, "Ivy, I have a few questions to ask you. Don't worry, just answer honestly."The weather was chilly, so I wrapped my hands around the cup. The warmth gradually revived my icy fingers."What was your relationship with your husband like?" she asked."He treated me well, but…"I covered my face with my hands, and my eyes welled up with tears again. As his image came to mind, tears streamed through my fingers, and I sobbed uncontrollably."It was all my fault. I could never meet his expectations. He always said no other wife would be as incompetent as me. I feel like such a failure…"He said a woman should be capable of both hosting in the living room and cooking in the kitchen, but no matter how hard I tried, my cooking never satisfied him. I could barely earn a few thousand a month and was no help to his business…" I stammered.Those were his exact words.Chester was an expert a
"It's all my fault. If I hadn't left that unlabeled bottle there, he wouldn't have grabbed the wrong one and accidentally taken the sleeping pills…"If I hadn't delayed him with my makeup… If I hadn't lost control of my emotions and argued with him on the road—if I hadn't let him kick me out of the car—maybe this wouldn't have happened…" I said between sobs.The police must have reviewed the dashcam footage repeatedly after the accident, so what I said was nothing but the truth.I pleaded with Eleanor through my tears, "Ms. Castillo, you must find out who switched my medication and who caused my husband's death!"Eleanor scribbled a few notes in her notebook, sighed, and offered me a few comforting words before asking, "What was your relationship like with your mother-in-law?"I froze for a moment, and I wiped my tears with the back of my hand."My mother-in-law treated me very well. When my parents passed away in an accident six years ago, they left me nothing but a large compen
I lowered my gaze to my hands. On the ring finger of my left hand was a simple band, a ring that had cost me nearly my life to hold onto.My hands were clean but neither slender nor soft.Chester often complained that my cooking lacked variety and flavor, so I spent almost every evening after work in the kitchen. The constant exposure to grease and dishwashing detergent had ruined the skin on my hands long ago.I raised my head, and tears again welled up in my eyes. I asked, "Ms. Castillo, can I see Chester?"Eleanor hesitated for a moment before nodding."The accident was very severe. Mr. Paget's body had to be stitched back together. You should mentally prepare yourself…"She led me to the forensic room, where the air was thick with the acrid tang of disinfectant, the metallic tang of blood, and a nauseating undercurrent of decay that made my stomach churn.On the autopsy table lay Chester, covered in a white sheet. His form was barely recognizable as human. A blood-stained ha
Florence had rushed over from her hometown as soon as she got the news. She stormed into the room, pulled back the white sheet covering Chester's face, and gasped.His facial injuries were not as severe as expected; the bloodstains had been cleaned, and his features were still recognizable.She took one look at him before collapsing onto the floor, wailing loudly. "My son! My poor son! You died so horribly!"Noticing me nearby, she suddenly scrambled to her feet and lunged at me as her face twisted with rage. "Ivy Lane! You wretched woman! It's all your fault! You killed my son!"Eleanor and the forensic examiner immediately rushed forward to restrain her.Unable to reach me, Florence flailed her arms in the air, pointing a trembling finger at me as she cried out, "My son would never take sleeping pills while driving! She must have drugged Chester!"I lifted my head and showed them my carefully prepared expression—a mix of grief and shock, as well as trembling pairs of lips."Mo
Florence turned to look at Chester's lifeless body. The sight seemed to knock the breath out of her, and she collapsed into another fit of wrenching sobs."Why couldn't it have been Ivy who died? She deserves it, just like her parents did… My poor son…"I looked at Florence, then at Marigold Collins, and murmured tremblingly, "How could this happen? Mom, didn't you say Mari was Chester's cousin, and she's just staying temporarily at our family home…"Marigold, the woman who had come with Florence, shrank into the corner, avoiding my gaze. She looked helpless as her eyes darted between me and Chester's body on the autopsy table.Holding the child in her arms tightly, she let tears stream silently down her face.For a moment, I stood frozen before finally snapping. I stormed out of the forensic room, ran into a nearby office, and grabbed a water cup from a desk.I hurled it against the wall with a loud crash. I even let out a raw, piercing scream as I swept everything off the desk
Florence's eyes were swollen and bloodshot, a clear sign that Chester's death had hit her hard.The moment she stepped through the door, she started yelling, "Ivy Lane, I'll have you know right now that even if you killed my son, you'll never get a single cent from the Paget family!"My son's assets and this house will never belong to you, and I'll make sure you end up in prison!"How ridiculous. What assets did she think Chester could possibly have left?I had already discreetly investigated this through a friend at the bank. Since our marriage, Chester's income had been steadily transferred into accounts under Florence's name and her company.Even my premarital savings had been tricked out of me under the guise of "helping with financial turnover". Meanwhile, Florence's wedding gift for me had gone toward renovating the house Chester had bought before our marriage.In short, if I had sought a divorce while he was alive, I wouldn't have been entitled to his income or property—an
Florence froze, and her face turned ashen in an instant."No, you're lying!" she snapped."Am I? Then why don't you take him for a paternity test? Let's see if Marigold dares to go through with it!"A few days later, I received an email from an unknown person in a rarely used email account. Attached to it was a photo of a paternity test report.The results clearly stated, "No direct genetic relationship exists between the two submitted samples."It was Florence who had sent in her own hair sample for comparison with Daniel's.I immediately cleared my inbox, permanently deleted the email, and closed the account. I also erased my browsing history out of habit.The bottle of Carbamazepine I'd purchased earlier sat on the coffee table in the living room. Each day, I would take a few pills and flush them down the toilet to match the prescribed dosage.I did suffer from mild bipolar disorder. It was a result of the emotional trauma from my parents' accident and the relentless psychol
Eleanor looked around my home, noting the contrast between the luxurious decor and the now barren state of the house. Even the teacup I offered her had a chipped edge.Her gaze softened with sympathy and a touch of helplessness.I was still dressed in black. My head was slightly bowed as I exchanged pleasantries with her, and I appeared every bit like a woman who had just lost her husband—despondent and defeated.She sat down, picked up the bottle of Carbamazepine on the table, and gave it a casual shake. Only half the pills remained at this point. Someone as sharp as Eleanor could probably tell in an instant."How are you feeling?" she asked.I shook my head. "Still the same. Bipolar disorder is probably hard to treat.""Maybe it's time to see a different doctor. And for now, stop taking this medication."She set the bottle back on the table and placed a thick stack of documents in front of me."We discovered that the doctor treating you, Dr. Evelyn Callaghan, is suspected of
Marigold was in the back seat of the Cayenne, using a toy to coax Daniel into the car while I was stuffing the last package into the trunk.The car window was down, and Eleanor had a clear view of everything. She walked over and called my name."Ivy Lane?"The bag I held slipped from my hands, spilling Daniel's diapers and baby bottles onto the ground.Eleanor frowned and lowered her voice. "You two… have known each other for a long time, haven't you?"Her tone was questioning, but her eyes—sharp like a hawk's—made it clear that she already knew the answer. Her gaze was so piercing that it made my skin crawl.After a moment of tense silence, I forced an awkward smile and pulled her aside. "Eleanor, I…"She took out her phone and showed me a photo. "Ivy, I came across something recently."I leaned in and saw it—a record of me purchasing contraceptive pills online. The quantity was significant, enough to last two or three years.The timestamp was from six years ago, not long aft
By the time spring arrived, I had moved into Marigold's home. Daniel was adorable, and he didn't resemble Chester much—in fact, his features looked more like Marigold's.We were both satisfied by this outcome.One day, Marigold and I decided to visit Florence in prison, bringing Daniel with us.Florence had aged beyond recognition in just a few months. Her frail, hunched body was wrapped in a dark blue prison uniform. Sparse gray hair framed her gaunt, elderly face.When she saw Marigold and me walking hand in hand, with Daniel, now toddling along, her lifeless, dull eyes suddenly flared with astonishment.It was like a brief flicker of life in a dying flame.I smiled before saying, "Ms. Callaghan, I almost forgot to tell you—today marks 23 years since Mari and I met. Don't you think it's a wonderful day to celebrate?""You… You…" Florence stammered, but no coherent words came out.Turning my back to the surveillance camera at the visitation window, I silently mouthed the words
A few months later, I met a pregnant Marigold at Florence's house. Florence was smiling warmly as she introduced her as Chester's cousin.When Florence and Chester weren't paying attention, Marigold pulled me aside and whispered that the child she was carrying was Chester's.She explained, "Chester is a handsome scumbag—his looks, height, and education meet the criteria. He's perfect to father our child."During her pregnancy, Marigold bought many vitamin supplements, watched health and wellness videos religiously, and practiced what she learned.Day after day, she indoctrinated Chester with knowledge about health and fitness, subtly brainwashing him. Over two years, she successfully got him into the habit of taking various vitamins daily.The Paget family was far beneath the wealthy and influential Collins family that Marigold came from. For Florence and Chester, having Marigold as Chester's mistress and mother to his child was a step up. As a result, they doted on her.In those
Marigold was actually my best friend, and we had known each other for over 20 years.When I became infatuated with Chester, Marigold had warned me about him countless times. She told me that while Chester seemed like a good catch on the surface, he was insincere and untrustworthy.I didn't believe her. Naively, I thought the issues between our families' businesses had nothing to do with us.Once Chester realized that my best friend disapproved of our relationship, he began badmouthing her and forbade me from seeing her.Marigold knew my personality well. I was the type who wouldn't back down from a decision, no matter the consequences. She said I was the kind of person who wouldn't turn around until I reached a dead end.Before we cut ties, Marigold made one last request.She urged me not to rush into having children. She asked me to wait at least three years after marriage, and if I still felt Chester was worth it, then I could reconsider.In the second year of my marriage, Che
My parents were fierce business rivals of the Callaghan family—the kind of competition where only one side could survive. Their opposition to my relationship with Chester wasn't just about disliking him as a person.Florence was deeply jealous. She was full of underhanded schemes and tried every dirty trick she could think of, yet she still lost to my parents. Her hatred for them ran deep.After eliminating my parents, they devised a plan to take my compensation money, systematically destroy me, and even sign contracts in advance to sell my organs for profit once I was close to death.They intended to consume every last scrap of my family, leaving not even a trace behind.Yes, it was all my fault. Even with their lives, my parents couldn't wake me from my foolishness at the time.This mother and son—Florence and Chester—were the ones who murdered my parents.Yet, the truck driver was only sentenced to three years for vehicular manslaughter back then. I couldn't obtain enough evid
Most of the evidence was collected by the police, saving me a lot of trouble. After all, bipolar disorder was a mental illness.In other words, I was considered a mentally ill person.If I had made unsubstantiated claims that a renowned doctor had tried to harm me, people would have dismissed me as delusional.Dr. Callaghan might have even turned the tables and accused me of severe paranoia. She was, after all, an expert in mental health.On the day of the second hearing, I sat in the plaintiff's seat, my eyes cold and detached as I looked at Florence. In just a few months, her hair had turned completely gray.I silently mouthed the words, "Your bloodline ends here."Florence snapped. She leaped from the defendant's bench, pointing at me and hurling curses."She's a ruthless, conniving little snake! Don't let her fool you! She killed her own parents, and now she's destroyed my family too! Heaven must be blind to spare this wicked woman!"I stared at her coldly. My parents had d
Eleanor had never encountered a case as bizarre as this one herself. She was indignant, ranting about how the Callaghan sisters were completely devoid of humanity.After a long silence, I finally asked, "Will Dr. Callaghan be sentenced to prison?"Eleanor shook her head."She might've switched your medication, but there's no evidence she had any intent or motive to murder your husband. Fundamentally, there's no sufficient causal link between his accidentally taking one or two Diazepam pills and his death."As for the organ trafficking, while it's illegal, the organs she sold came from terminally ill patients or recently deceased individuals, which doesn't constitute a major crime."The contracts themselves are invalid because they're illegal, so the one involving you can only be used as supporting evidence for their intent to harm you, not as the basis for a conviction."Crimes like this require someone to file charges before they can be prosecuted and lead to a sentence."She p
Eleanor looked around my home, noting the contrast between the luxurious decor and the now barren state of the house. Even the teacup I offered her had a chipped edge.Her gaze softened with sympathy and a touch of helplessness.I was still dressed in black. My head was slightly bowed as I exchanged pleasantries with her, and I appeared every bit like a woman who had just lost her husband—despondent and defeated.She sat down, picked up the bottle of Carbamazepine on the table, and gave it a casual shake. Only half the pills remained at this point. Someone as sharp as Eleanor could probably tell in an instant."How are you feeling?" she asked.I shook my head. "Still the same. Bipolar disorder is probably hard to treat.""Maybe it's time to see a different doctor. And for now, stop taking this medication."She set the bottle back on the table and placed a thick stack of documents in front of me."We discovered that the doctor treating you, Dr. Evelyn Callaghan, is suspected of
Florence froze, and her face turned ashen in an instant."No, you're lying!" she snapped."Am I? Then why don't you take him for a paternity test? Let's see if Marigold dares to go through with it!"A few days later, I received an email from an unknown person in a rarely used email account. Attached to it was a photo of a paternity test report.The results clearly stated, "No direct genetic relationship exists between the two submitted samples."It was Florence who had sent in her own hair sample for comparison with Daniel's.I immediately cleared my inbox, permanently deleted the email, and closed the account. I also erased my browsing history out of habit.The bottle of Carbamazepine I'd purchased earlier sat on the coffee table in the living room. Each day, I would take a few pills and flush them down the toilet to match the prescribed dosage.I did suffer from mild bipolar disorder. It was a result of the emotional trauma from my parents' accident and the relentless psychol