The Perfect Wife Walked Away のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 101 - チャプター 110

[Alice's POV]The corridors in the medical section of the detention center were long and oppressive, and the clang of the heavy iron doors opening and closing was particularly harsh in the pervading silence, each echo cutting into my nerves.I curled up on the crude single bed, my hands tightly protecting my abdomen. There were spasmodic sharp pains coming from inside, as if countless dull knives were being slowly twisted. I knew it wasn’t fetal movement, but a result of the increasingly aggressive uterine tumor that had been screaming its presence since my imprisonment.Cold sweat slid down my temples, soaking into the rough, blue prison uniform that smelled of old soap. I gritted my teeth and straightened my back — even in these grim circumstances, I absolutely wouldn’t permit myself to admit any guilt for that woman’s staged crime. The door was pushed open.Lily entered my cell. She was in a wheelchair, pushed in by a female police officer. Her right hand was wrapped in thick whit

[Adam’s POV]The adrenaline from throwing the punch was fading, replaced by the cold, sterile focus of the operating room. My knuckles throbbed — a dull, rhythmic reminder of David’s face beneath my fist — but I didn’t have the luxury of nursing a sore hand.Under the harsh glare of the surgical lights, Alice was barely holding on. The anesthesia kept her under, but her body was fighting a war on two fronts.“Scalpel.”My voice was steady, belying the storm raging inside me. I made the incision. The immediate relief of pressure released a dark, viscous fluid, but what lay beneath was worse than I’d anticipated. The tumor wasn’t just sitting there; it had anchored itself. It was invasive, angry, and widespread. It had woven itself into the fabric of her uterus, a spiderweb of malignancy that I couldn't simply cut away without killing the life she was so desperate to protect.I had to compromise. I debulked what I could, scraping away the jagged edges of the growth to buy her time, to g

[Adam’s POV]The text message was short, stark. My screen illuminated the darkened office with a blue glow.Wheels up. She’s safe.I stared at the screen until the pixels blurred. She was gone. Alice was on her way to Zurich, away from this mess, away from the prison cell that had been waiting for her. The tumor was still a threat, but at least in Switzerland, she had a fighting chance.My part in this was over.Sliding the cell phone into my pocket, I picked up the stack of documents from my desk. This was the confession. The evidence of my breach. The proof that I had bypassed every firewall, violated every privacy law, and hacked into the pharmaceutical database to uncover the truth about Lily’s prescriptions.I didn't hesitate. If I hesitated, I’d think about my career, my license, the ten years I’d spent relentlessly building a name for myself in this hospital. I’d think about the future patients I would never treat.I walked out of the office in the clinic and didn't look back.

[Alice’s POV]The descent into Zurich was a blur of gray clouds and the hum of the private jet’s engines. Every vibration echoed in the hollow of my chest. By the time the wheels touched the tarmac, I felt like a ghost inhabiting a body that no longer belonged to me.Richard Lawrence was already on his feet, his face a mask of clinical focus. "We have a medical transport waiting, Alice. The Swiss Institute is only twenty minutes from here."I nodded, clutching the cotton blanket around my shoulders. I felt fragile, like a piece of glass that had been shattered and glued back together too many times.As the cabin door hissed open, the crisp, mountain-chilled air hit me. It was a shock to the system, cleaner and sharper than the heavy, stagnant air of the hospital I’d left behind. We moved through the private terminal, the professor guiding my wheelchair with an urgency that left no room for questions.Waiting for us at the exit was a man who looked entirely out of place for a member of

[Lily’s POV]The penthouse smelled like a tomb. It wasn’t the clean, cold earth of a cemetery, but the stagnant, sour stench of a man rotting alive. I pushed open the heavy mahogany doors to the library, and the air hit me like a physical blow — stale scotch, unwashed skin, and the metallic tang of old grief.A flying shape blurred in the corner of my vision. I ducked instinctively just as a heavy crystal bottle whistled past me. It shattered against the doorframe, spraying amber liquid and jagged shards across my designer coat."Get out!" David roared.It didn't sound like David anymore. The man who silenced a boardroom with a single look was gone. In his place sat a wreck, slumped in a leather armchair that cost more than a mid-sized sedan. He looked like a vagrant who had broken in and didn't know how to use the shower. His beard was a week-old thicket of salt and pepper, his eyes were bloodshot pits, and his silk shirt was stained with things I couldn’t identify.Clutched in his hand wa