All Chapters of The Mystery of My Wife's (Faked) Death: Chapter 1 - Chapter 9

The surge of anger that had erupted within me burned away any restraint. Without thinking, I stormed forward to confront the woman who had single-handedly ruined my life. But instead, I found myself overpowered—pushed into a cement pool by Clara and Simon. The suffocating sensation of cement flooding my nasal passages felt disturbingly vivid, even now. I gasped for air as if I were still fighting to breathe. But not this time. This time, I would not let history repeat itself.… "Dr. Kingsley? Are you still there?" The anxious voice of the nurse on the phone shattered my reverie. "No, I can't. I have a patient waiting for an examination," I replied briskly. "Check with the other on-call doctors." I ended the call without hesitation. In the last life, the police had discovered empty liquor bottles in my office drawer. I yanked the drawer open now—empty. So, someone must have planted those bottles during my surgery.Who could it have been? My father-in-law? Or perhaps Simon?

I quickly spotted something suspicious. Pointing at the issuing institution on the death certificate, I said calmly, "Simon, the patient passed away in our hospital. The death certificate should have been issued by us. Even if you distrust this hospital, you'd at least need to consult another top-tier hospital or a certified medical institution. What exactly do you mean by bringing a death certificate from some random clinic?" "And besides," I added, my tone unwavering, "the doctor in charge of last night's resuscitation wasn't me." Before my words had fully landed, one of the doctors involved in last night's emergency stepped forward, snatching the certificate to examine it. With just a glance, he bristled with indignation. "Death due to delayed resuscitation? Absolute nonsense!" he exclaimed. "When the patient arrived last night, she was already at death's door. How is this our fault? This is nothing but an attempt to slander the hospital!" Simon's face remained unflustered,

The police escorted me to have my blood tested. During the wait for the results, my mother-in-law unexpectedly approached me and sat down beside me. Her tone had shed the sharpness of the morning, replaced by an unusual warmth and sincerity. "Ben," she began softly, "listen to me. Before the results come out, confess voluntarily. About Clara and the baby—I know you didn't mean for things to turn out this way." Her voice faltered for a moment before steadying. "Don't worry. As long as you confess, your father-in-law and I will write a letter of forgiveness for you." I turned to look at her, my eyes searching hers. Her plea echoed words she'd spoken in another lifetime—another me, another her, before the results had come back. Back then, I was frantic but steadfast in my refusal to admit to something I hadn't done. I knew I hadn't been drinking and trusted that the test would clear me. This time, my resolve was even stronger. But there was a question gnawing at me now that ha

"It's easy for him to make baseless accusations. It's not like my poor dead Clara could defend herself at this point," Georgie spat.I chuckled. "Georgie, don't get so worked up just yet. Let's wait until Leslie presents all the evidence. If you still have questions then, feel free to ask." Leslie remained unaffected by the outburst, proceeding methodically to reveal the second piece of evidence: a surveillance recording from the cameras installed in my home. The footage was clear and damning, showing Clara pouring vodka into the bottle of nutritional supplement. As the recording played, the expressions on Simon's and my in-laws' faces grew darker with each passing second. Still clinging to his defiance, Simon gritted his teeth and said, "If it really was Clara, why would she do it so blatantly under surveillance? And why wouldn't she delete the footage afterward? Wasn't she afraid you'd discover it?"I scoffed. "Because she knew I never check the surveillance footage at home.