The Comments Spoiled My Death Sentence

It was my mother-in-law Marianne Jones' 65th birthday.

My husband, Isaac Peterson, had told me he wanted to skip the fuss and have a simple family celebration instead.

As soon as my business trip ended, I hurried into my car and rushed home.

The car cruised steadily down the road. I was only three intersections away from our neighborhood when something unbelievable happened.

Semi-transparent comments suddenly appeared out of thin air before my eyes.

They looked exactly like the live comments on a livestream. Line after line of text streamed across my vision.

My jaw dropped. Thinking my eyes were deceiving me, I rubbed them hard several times.

The comments stayed right where they were, stubbornly refusing to vanish.

More warnings continued to flood in.

"It's over! Jess is almost home! She's walking straight into the trap!"

"Jess, your husband is going to find an excuse to leave you alone with Marianne so he can frame you! Whatever you do, don't go inside!"

"At exactly 7:10 pm, Marianne will fall to her death. They're setting you up to shoulder the blame for her murder."

"Don't trust your best friend, Kathie Wilbury. She's been sleeping with your husband behind your back, and they're plotting to get rid of you!"

My mouth hung open in shock. I rubbed my eyes again, wondering if I was hallucinating.

However, the live comments still hovered stubbornly before me.

My heart pounded violently in my chest.

How could Marianne suddenly fall from a building for no reason?

And why would Isaac and Kathie try to frame me?

Countless questions ran through my mind, leaving my thoughts in complete chaos.

Just then, my phone on the center console chimed twice.

A few messages from Isaac appeared on the screen.

"Darling, are you almost home?"

"My boss just called. There's an emergency at the office, and I have to deal with it immediately."

"Go ahead and cut the cake with Mom without me. I'll be back as soon as I can."

The moment I finished reading those three messages, I felt the blood drain from my face.

Was this really just a coincidence? Of all times, he had to leave right when I was about to get home.

If the comments were telling the truth, then the moment I walked through that door, only Marianne and I would be left inside.

When Marianne fell to her death, every accusation would point directly at me.

The fingerprints I'd left all over the scene would become irrefutable evidence that nailed me to the crime.

By then, no matter how much I tried to defend myself, nobody would believe a word I said.

I didn't dare think any further. The more I thought about it, the more terrified I became.

My fingers hovered over the chat box, but in the end, I didn't reply.

I glanced at the time. It was 6:40 pm. There were still 30 minutes before Marianne's fatal fall.

As the traffic light ahead turned green, I made a decision.

If the comments were warning me that I was about to be set up, then so be it. I would roll the dice.