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Lahat ng Kabanata ng The Mystery of My Wife's (Faked) Death: Kabanata 1 - Kabanata 9

9 Kabanata

Chapter 1

"Dr. Kingsley, an emergency case just came in—severe hemorrhage in a pregnant woman. Please head to the operating room immediately." The voice of the on-call nurse jolted me, sending a chill down my spine. I turned to glance at the electronic clock in the hospital corridor. It was the exact time my wife, Clara Dwyer, had been rushed to the hospital with severe bleeding in my previous life. My throat tightened involuntarily. I had been reborn. The nurse's voice on the phone grew more urgent as I remained silent. "Dr. Kingsley, please hurry to the operating room. The patient has already been brought in."… In my previous life, as soon as I received the nurse's call, I had rushed over without a moment's hesitation. It wasn't until I reached the operating table that I realized the hemorrhaging patient was my own wife, Clara, in the late stages of her pregnancy. Not long before that, we had spoken on the phone. She had told me she was at home doing her nightly yoga routine. S

Chapter 2

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?

Chapter 3

The pale, lifeless figure of Clara lay on the bed before me, her face ashen and still. My chest tightened involuntarily at the sight. For years, I had treated her like a precious gem, indulging her every whim and desire. Yet, for Simon, she had faked her death and turned her schemes against me without hesitation. I glanced at the monitor. Numbers told a grim story. Blood oxygen levels, blood pressure—both plummeting. Her pulse, nearly undetectable. "Have all the necessary resuscitation measures been taken?" I asked the nurse standing nearby. She nodded, her expression heavy. "Yes, everything we could do has been done. But her vitals keep declining. We're barely able to detect her pulse now." Feigning professionalism, I went through the motions of another examination. Then, with a practiced sigh of regret, I said, "She was brought in too late. There's nothing more we can do. Notify the family of the time of death." Leaving the operating room, I didn't return to my office. In

Chapter 4

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,

Chapter 5

My words sent shockwaves through the room once again. The color on my father-in-law's face shifted wildly between ashen and flushed, his chest rising and falling with visible agitation. My mother-in-law, alarmed by the sight, surged forward, pointing an accusing finger at me and unleashing a tirade. "Ben, how could you be so cruel? Killing Clara and the baby wasn't enough for you? Now you're turning on Georgie?" Simon, ever the opportunist, stepped up beside my mother-in-law and consoled her in a tone dripping with false sincerity, "Eliza, don't let this upset you. He's not worth ruining your health over. The police are here, and they'll ensure justice for Clara and the baby—and for you and Georgie too." Then, with a calculated glance at me, he added, "Ben, you claim we're framing you. Do you have any proof?" I returned his gaze coldly. "And you're accusing me of practicing medicine under the influence. Do you have proof?" Simon smirked and pointed to the empty wine bottle

Chapter 6

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

Chapter 7

"Ben, if you had confessed earlier, perhaps this matter wouldn't have blown up on the internet. In the press conference later, you'd better show some genuine remorse. Who knows? Maybe you'll win a shred of public sympathy," Simon said sarcastically. I didn't respond. I merely observed him with a cold detachment. Inside, though, I was laughing—darkly, bitterly.Last time, in the life I left behind, Clara and Simon had orchestrated the same scheme. They used the internet to ruin me, dragging my name through the mud until I became a pariah. Every whisper of scandal they manufactured clung to me like oil, ensuring my social and professional annihilation. Not content with my public disgrace, they also pressured the courts, leaving me with a harsh prison sentence. Even behind bars, the nightmare continued. Fellow inmates despised me; the guards turned a blind eye to my suffering. By the end, I was hollow, barely human. Not this time. This time, I would make sure the poison they ha

Chapter 8

"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.

Chapter 9

The flood of online comments poured in relentlessly, one after another, their venom unmistakable even through the screen. [And those vile in-laws—have old people always been this wicked, or is this a new development?][Even a tiger doesn't eat its cubs! That woman is a disgrace to the sacred name of 'mother'—her death is far too lenient!][Curse this entire family to reincarnate as beasts in their next lives!] Reading these vitriolic words, I couldn't help but recall the past life where the tide of public outrage had turned against me instead. A bitter smile tugged at my lips. To let Clara escape so easily through death—how laughably merciful I was. No, she didn't deserve such a simple end. She should have lived on. Only by staying alive could she taste the full extent of the anguish and despair I had endured in my previous life. As for Simon, his punishment for "intentional framing" resulted in a five-year prison sentence. While that was only a third of the suffering I had

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