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Is it wrong that I suspected my husband of wanting to kill me?
I know I shouldn’t feel that way, but something has felt off. Originally, my husband Alan and I had met in college while in our undergrad program. We started dating and right after graduation, I married, who I thought to be, the man of my dreams and became his trophy housewife. I happily watched as Alan’s career sky-rocketed, and he reached his peak as a multi-millionaire. For the past five years, Alan has been an exceptional husband. Even with his thriving and busy company, he made sure our romance and relationship as husband and wife continues to thrive and grow stronger. I never felt the need to complain. Our lives were perfect, with the exception of no children. But recently, something has shifted. My husband’s behavior changed suddenly and almost abruptly. It seemed like Alan stopped looking at me and started stalking me with his eyes instead. I would often catch him staring at me from behind and when I didn’t catch him, I could feel his eyes on me, almost boring holes into my back. Every time I turned to look at him, he’d flash a smile that never met his eyes and that began to terrify me. His eyes seemed black and dreary and seemed like a black hole, threatening to pull me in at any moment. But it wasn’t just that. I noticed Alan started coming home later than usual. Every time I brought it up, he would have a different excuse, and they almost seemed rehearsed. I didn’t notice how much it was starting to affect me until I began losing my hair and and having constant migraines. And worst of all, my anxiety made it impossible for me to sleep. So, I did what any desperate person would do and acquired a prescription for sleeping pills. I let out a long sigh as I check the calendar and see that it’s my fifth wedding anniversary. Written in red right next to it, was Alan’s flight information. He’d make it back just in time from his business trip and unbeknownst to him, a long talk about all these changes was all that I had for him. I sit down and try to mentally prepare myself for his arrival when I hear the doorbell ring. I feel my heart skip a beat and suddenly, the room is hot. I rush to the door and smooth out my dress before opening it. Just as expected, my husband stands just on the other side with large smile. He pulls me into a big warm hug. The touch alone caused me to stiffen but I forced my muscles to relax as he sported a large smile. And I couldn’t help but notice that he was clean-shaven, well dressed in one of his best suits. He always looked younger when he looked like this and part of me felt flattered that he’d go through all this trouble for our anniversary. “These are for you. Happy Anniversary!” Alan says as he unveils a bouquet of flowers from behind his back. He leans forward, kissing my forehead as he hands them to me. “Thank you.” I say as I smell the freshness of each one. I feel my worries and doubts whither away ever so slightly. Moments like these reminded me of the man I fell in love with and married, always surprising me with gifts that little gestures that showed me how much love we shared. Maybe all these changes and doubts about him were all in my head. “Okay Jessie, its time to close your eyes. I have one more surprise for you.” Just before I close my eyes, I see him unveil a beautifully wrapped gift box from his suit pocket. I smile in anticipation as I feel a cool piece of metal touch my skin. “When can I open my eyes?” I ask excitedly. “You can open them now.” I open my eyes in response and look down at my chest to find an exquisite ceramic necklace. I stand in silence, feeling the tears welt up in my eyes. I knew this necklace. It had been my grandmother’s. I remember my parents looking hopelessly for this necklace after my grandmother’s passing. She had made them promise to gift it to me on her deathbed. Unfortunately, my parents died in a car accident, without every fulfilling their promise. I had even searched for this very necklace without ever find a trace of it. And today, on our fifth wedding anniversary, my husband brought it to me. I felt my heart swell with emotions as my eyes filled with tears. He must have been looking for this for months. How did he find it? Alan took a step forward, pulling me into his arms with a look of concern. “I love it. Thank you, Alan.” I hug his waist tightly as I admire the best gift, he’s ever given me. “I love you and I wanted to show you that I’m willing to do anything for you.” Alan kisses my cheek as he leads me to the living room and motions for me to sit down on the couch. “I actually found it two weeks ago. You have no idea how difficult it was to keep this from you. It was torture.” Alan unveiled every detail of his surprise plan, and I felt guilty as I listened. I had misunderstood my husband. His recent change in behavior shouldn’t have been maliciously speculated. He wasn’t trying to kill me, and he wasn’t a bad person. “Alan, I’m so sorry.” “For what?” I watch as his face turns from excitement to worry. “I-I was so suspicious of you coming home late, recently. It wasn’t fair of me to mentally accuse you of anything.” I couldn’t bring myself to tell him the truth - that I had assumed he was trying to kill me. “You’re my wife. You have every right to assume that. Especially after these last few weeks.” I let out a sigh of relief. I always admired how Alan respected and understood my emotions – even if they were outlandish. “I love you, Alan. I promise not to accuse you anymore.” This, however, was a promise I’d be forced to break after just one night. The next morning, I found myself eating breakfast alone as Alann had an early morning business meeting. After putting my dish in the sink, I heard the doorbell and rushed to answer it. It was a mail courier package, left just outside the door. I closed the door after bringing it inside an began opening it. I was shocked to see ultrasound photos from a pregnant woman inside. The ultrasound stated the woman’s name – Blair Smith. Smith: that’s my husband’s surname and I was always addressed as Mrs. Smith. It also states that this ‘Blair’ was four weeks pregnant. Is this Ms. Smith related to my husband? Thinking back to our evening yesterday, I felt my throat tighten and I felt a tinge of pain in my heart. Could Alan really have done this? I held the ultrasound close to my chest as I sit down. Could Alan have gotten this woman pregnant? Why would he get another woman pregnant?“Miller.”I hear my name called sharply as I sit at my desk beside Olivia. I look up to see the Sergeant standing at the end of the hallway that leads to the interrogation rooms, his face carved into stone.This must have something to do with Rebecca Smithsdale.“Yes, sir,” I reply immediately, straightening in my chair.“Follow me.”He doesn’t wait for a response before turning toward his office. I exchange a brief look with Olivia before pushing my chair back.“You can stay here. I’ll be back soon,” I reassure her quietly.“Did I get you in trouble?” she asks, her voice small and innocent.“No,” I say with a faint smile. “I’m just working.”“Okay.”I rise and follow the Sergeant down the hallway, the hum of fluorescent lights filling the silence between us.“Sir?”“Miller, I’m going to update you as quickly as possible because I need you to work on Alan Smith.”“Whatever you say, sir.”“Good.” He continues walking, his stride purposeful. “Rebecca Smithsdale was conducting what she c
I watch as Rebecca Smithdale’s silence grows louder, thickening the air in the interrogation room until it feels almost suffocating. It’s not just quiet — it’s deliberate. A calculated omission.That’s when I see it.Her trigger response.She begins picking at the edge of her nail, scraping at it as though something is lodged beneath it. Subconscious. Repetitive. Compulsive.A crack in the armor.“Are you nervous?” I ask calmly, folding my hands on the table as if we’re discussing the weather.Her eyes flick to mine. “No. I just don’t know what it is you expect from me. I didn’t kill Nicholas.”“You didn’t,” I agree evenly. “But you repeatedly left him on the brink of death. You tortured him enough to leave evidence on what little DNA remained.”I let the next words land slowly.“His bones.”Her jaw tightens.“Nicholas wanted to get better,” she says, her tone sharpening, but there’s a tremor underneath it now.“Did he?” I counter. “Because his remains say otherwise. We found defensiv
I knew the moment the officers came to retrieve me that this wasn’t about signing a deal.This was something else.They’ve found something.Something they were never meant to find — and now I’ll have to explain it… once they reveal what, exactly, they think they know.Until then, silence is my shield.I’ll have no choice but to convince them otherwise.I’ve watched and learned the patterns of Officer Pennet. He leads with ego. He telegraphs his suspicions before he even speaks them. He would have been easy enough to dismantle.But this?This feels different.So I hold my composure. I keep my back straight, my breathing steady. I say nothing as they guide me down the corridor, the echo of our footsteps bouncing off concrete walls. The fluorescent lights hum overhead — clinical, unforgiving.I don’t speak when they sit me down.I don’t speak when they remove the handcuffs.I wait.The door closes with a dull thud, and for a moment, the room is silent except for the faint buzz of the cam
“It’s been a long time since anyone’s made it this far pulling a stunt like that.” I sigh, pushing myself up from behind my desk. The chair creaks softly as it rolls back, the sound loud in the otherwise suffocating quiet of my office. I straighten my jacket, forcing the weight of command back onto my shoulders. “Pennet, you’ve done well. I’ll take it from here.”“But sir, I can handle that shrink.” His voice carries confusion—and something else. Pride, maybe. He isn’t used to being pulled off an interrogation this close to the truth.“I’m aware,” I reply evenly, meeting his eyes just long enough for him to understand this isn’t a discussion. “But I think it’s time she met with the one running the place. We have something to discuss.” My tone leaves no room for argument.I brush past both men and step into the hallway, the air outside my office cooler, heavier, filled with the distant hum of phones and the low murmur of officers moving through their shifts.“Lincoln, forgive my abrupt
The drive back to the precinct is silent except for the low hum of the engine and the faint crackle of the patrol radio.Olivia had confessed that only Rebecca was left-handed. The medical examiner had confirmed that our perpetrator had to have been left-handed as well. It wasn’t proof on its own—but it narrowed the field in a way that made my stomach feel heavy.I had offered to take Olivia back to the assisted living facility where she’d been staying, but she’d refused quietly, almost fearfully, and Pennet and I had no choice but to bring her with us.She sits in the back seat now, hands folded neatly in her lap, staring out the window as if she doesn’t recognize the streets passing by.“Can I see Aunt Rebecca and Alan?” she asks softly, her voice barely carrying over the engine.I glance at her in the rearview mirror. Her eyes are wide—hopeful in a way that makes the truth feel cruel.“I’m sorry, Olivia,” I answer gently. “They’re being detained right now. They aren’t allowed visit
I can tell by the sergeant’s expression that whatever news he has isn’t comforting—certainly nothing Jessie is going to want to hear. His face is too rigid, too rehearsed. He won’t meet Jessie’s eyes for more than a second at a time, and that alone tells me everything.I move ahead of Jessie, guiding her gently toward the chair across from his desk, my hand hovering near her back in case she falters. She lowers herself into the seat slowly, her strength still fragile after everything she’s endured.I close the office door behind us, the quiet click sounding final. Too final.I position myself slightly between her and the desk before speaking.“Sergeant, I’d like to ask for a small favor, if you would.”“A favor for you is almost guaranteed, Lincoln. Ask,” he replies casually, bending down to open his desk drawer. He pulls out a bottle of scotch and two crystal glasses, setting them down with deliberate calm.I don’t relax.“Jessie’s been through a lot today,” I say firmly. “She’s unde







