I Thought My Husband's Wife Was Dead Ending นิยาย & เรื่องราว

"Mr. Ferguson, I need you to confirm whether the deceased we have here is your wife." Harvey's face instantly took on a ghastly expression. "What do you mean deceased?" "Danica Reed." His pupils abruptly shrank. An expression of disbelief appeared on his face. "Ha! Are you also teaming up with her to play a prank on me? She really can't bear to divorce me, can she? That's why she wants to use death as an excuse to drag it on." One of the police officers present, Peter Jenkins, slapped Harvey angrily. "You bastard! What did you say?"

I ran to the cabinet and pulled out my own marriage certificate with Arthur's. There was no embossed seal. Just a crooked, barely legible red seal. I had touched this certificate countless times. This was my only anchor while I stayed in the village, enduring the constant torment from my senile, paralyzed mother-in-law, Paula Rodriguez. It had been the courage I held onto to raise my daughter, Tessa Hughes, on my own. And now, Lauren was telling me it was all a lie. I opened my mouth to argue, but my throat felt blocked. My words came out in fits. "But Arthur and I are married… We have Tessa… How could he ever lie to me?"

Calvin Yale, my husband, didn't visit me even a single time before I died. It wasn't until three days after I had died that he bothered to step into his stepmother, Margaret Sommer's ward. "Where's Clarissa? Get her out here now," Calvin ordered. Margaret lay in the hospital bed, her pale eyes dull and lifeless. She mumbled, "Clare's dead." Calvin furrowed his brow and scoffed. "You're saying someone like her, who's always fighting to stay alive, would actually die? Did she find out Jenna lost vision in her right eye and needed her help, so she went and hid?"

Holding my hand like it mattered. “I don’t know,” I whispered. “I don’t know how to do that.” She studied me for a long moment. Then she spoke again. Quiet. Precise. “Mrs. Freya,” she said, “your husband died an hour ago.” The room tilted. “What?” The word didn’t sound like it belonged to me. “He was pronounced dead at the hospital. Gunshot wound to the chest. Complications.” I stared at her. Dead. The man who had once knelt in front of me and asked me to trust him. The man who had kissed my forehead every night. The man whose hands had become a weapon.

"And your husband?" I glanced at the clasp on my bag, still smiling. "We're divorcing. I'm sure the hospital's heard by now—Peter's been hanging around OB-GYN. Says she's his sister, but come on, Rebecca. We're both women. We know what that really means." She didn't say a word. Just signed the resignation. "Yuna, the world's a lot bigger when you stop tying yourself to love." I took the papers and headed to my office to pack.

The kind of photo they used when important people died. The tires. I heard them again, screeching through the phone. The sound after his voice broke. The sound that came when I said you deserve to die and he had nothing left to say. The last thing I ever said to my husband was that he deserved to die. And then he died. People in the store started whispering. I felt their eyes on me. “That’s his wife… oh my God, she’s so young.” “Can’t believe she’s widowed at her age…”

I noticed something amiss. So, I played along with my husband's story and casually asked, "Really? You were smiling awfully tender just now." Zachary Cole's gaze skittered away, refusing to meet mine. "The kid's got a sweet mouth. He kept calling me 'mister.' It's late. Get some sleep." He turned and walked into the bathroom before I could get a word in edgewise. After 10 years of marriage, I could read him like an open book. That moment of hesitation told me everything I needed to know. He was hiding something.

Her fists were clenched so tightly they trembled. "Jon is my husband!" The moment those words left her mouth, the crowd erupted into whispers. I stepped forward immediately and warned her coldly, "You're legally declared dead. Our relationship ended automatically a long time ago. Stop saying things that make people misunderstand. "Wendy is my real wife." Hearing that, panic flashed across Candice's face. She hurried forward and grabbed my shoulders, struggling to hold back her emotions.

He couldn't even attempt to dodge before letting out a miserable yowl, and an arm was buried deep in his chest. The brown wolf slowly stopped struggling, his whimpers dying down to nothing. I watched dumbfounded at the scene before me, and a mournful scream suddenly pierced through the air. It was the old madam... Her husband had died to save us! I suddenly recalled that just last night, the couple had snuggled up together with happy smiles on their faces as they spoke to us about future plans... They should have enjoyed their later years and grown older together instead of dying here...!