I Saw My Tragic Future Through A Random Wedding Forum Poll Chapter 08

I Saw My Tragic Future Through A Random Wedding Forum Poll Chapter 08

The police investigation moved faster than I expected.

The security footage from the Hartwell garage had been deleted long ago, but the cloud backup was still there. It took the technicians two days to recover it, and the video came back surprisingly clear.

Late the night before Keaton’s crash, Maribel entered the garage-alone.

She spent nearly forty minutes under his car with a wrench and a pair of heavy-duty cutters.

The brake line had been cut most of the way through.

It wouldn’t fail immediately, but after some time on the highway and a few hard stops, the damaged line would give out completely.

The purchase records turned up too.

A week before the crash, Maribel had bought a pair of hydraulic cutters and a wrench at a hardware

store using a debit card she rarely used. The purchase was confirmed by the store’s security

footage.

When Cillian handed me the case file, he added, “There’s more.”

“A month before Keaton died, he discovered that Maribel had forged his signature and transferred

about $120,000 from his account.’

“He’d already contacted an attorney. He was planning to call off the wedding and get the money

back.”

My fingers tightened around the file.

“So she killed him.”

“Yes.”

Cillian’s voice was flat.

“He was leaving her, and he could’ve exposed what she’d done. She made sure he never got the

chance.”

But killing Keaton hadn’t been the end of it.

She had set up a second trap.

The day of the crash, Maribel called my parents in tears. She claimed Keaton had stormed out after an argument and begged them to follow him because she was afraid he was too upset to drive safely.

they did.

On the highway, their car clipped Keaton’s.

Ten minutes later, his brakes failed on a downhill curve.

His car smashed through the guardrail and went over the cliff.

My parents watched it happen. They believed the earlier collision had caused him to lose control

When Maribel arrived, she broke down at the scene. But once she finally calmed down, she turned

to my parents.

“You need to get rid of the dashcam footage.”

Her voice was urgent.

“If the police find out you hit his car, you could go to jail.”

My parents did exactly what she told them.

From that day on, guilt owned them.

Maribel wanted a condo? They gave her one.

Money? They gave her that too.

She wanted my wedding? They handed it over.

Because they believed they owed Maribel a life.

In their minds, they were the reason she had lost the man she was supposed to marry.

The day my parents finally learned the truth, they were brought to the Harrowmere Police

Department.

Mom watched the recovered footage and slid out of her chair, collapsing to the floor.

“No…”

She shook her head wildly.

“Maribel wouldn’t do that.”

Dad’s hands wouldn’t stop trembling.

He gripped the purchase records so tightly the pages crumpled in his fists.

“Tell me this isn’t real.”

He stared at Maribel across the table, his voice barely making it out.

“Tell me you didn’t cut Keaton’s brakes.”

Maribel sat perfectly still.

No tears. No panic.

If anything, there was the faintest curve at the corner of her mouth.

“And now you want to blame me?”

She leaned back in her chair.

“You destroyed the dashcam footage. You went along with drugging Carys. And when Darcy put her

in the hospital, neither of you stopped it.”

Her eyes moved slowly between them.

“You don’t get to act innocent now.”

Mom was shaking all over.

“You told us to-”

“I told you to, and you did it,” Maribel cut in. “That makes you accomplices. Understand?”

She leaned back in her chair and looked slowly from Mom to Dad.

“If you turn on me, I’ll turn on you.”

“If I go down, you’re coming with me. None of us gets to walk away clean.”

The door to the interview room remained closed.

Cillian stood behind my wheelchair in the adjoining observation room, one hand resting lightly on

the handle as we watched the monitor.

Mom finally broke.

She collapsed over the table, sobbing uncontrollably.

Dad looked as though every ounce of strength had drained out of him. His shoulders folded inward

until his forehead rested against the table.

And Maribel simply sat there.

Calm.

Almost like a different person.

The woman who had spent years looking fragile and helpless sat there without a single tear.

I stared at the screen.

For the first time, I realized how little I had ever known her.