He Killed Us Both Chapter 05

He Killed Us Both Chapter 05

I walked away alone.

The luxurious penthouse I had shared with Linus for five years had been seized. I didn’t look back. I found a room on the edge of the city—a narrow, damp basement where the walls smelled of mold instead of the family’s custom-blended perfume-and paid three months’ rent with the last of my savings.

Then I went to the FBI’s Chicago Field Office.

Agent Miller at the reception desk recognized my face immediately from the news. His lips tightened into a thin line. “The mastermind of the car crash. Here to turn yourself in?”

I said nothing, just placed two items on his desk: a USB drive with the cloud backup from my apartment’s security system, and my phone.

“Play the video,” I said. “Then listen to the recording.”

He scoffed but did as I asked.

The projector lit up. Lydia, clear as day, severing the brake line of my car with pliers, igniting the gasoline, and then fleeing.

Then came the recording. Lydia’s voice, laced with venom: “You couldn’t win in our last life. This life, you’re still the loser. Accept it-your bastard child was never meant

to be born.”

Agent Miller’s smirk vanished. His face went pale, then flushed with shame.

“Why…” he cleared his throat, “why didn’t you bring this to us sooner?”

I looked him straight in the eye. “Timing. If I had released this before the annulment, I would have still been tied to him, legally and financially.” I leaned forward, my voice low. “I needed her to fly as high as possible before I clipped her wings. Revenge is a patient game, Agent.”

He was silent for a moment, then nodded, his eyes filled with a new, cautious respect.

I walked out into the gray afternoon.

I needed a job. Immediately. The cost of my medical treatment had drained my savings, and I needed money to hire a lawyer to sue Lydia. In this city, justice had a price tag.

I sent my resume to every hospital and clinic in Chicago.

Blacklisted.

My calls were blocked.

Every door was slammed in my face.

I called top medical institutions, and they hung up as soon as they saw my name on the caller ID. I called private clinics and was met with dial tones. I called medical research facilities, and a director actually laughed and said, “We don’t hire family-betraying psychos here.”

My qualifications were impeccable. I had been the youngest attending trauma surgeon at Chicago Memorial. I had managed the Valeriano family’s private medical affairs with flawless skill for five years.

But none of that mattered. The internet had already passed its verdict. I was the woman who wrecked her own car. The woman who murdered her own child to frame

an innocent.

I wandered the streets for three days, sleeping in alleys, eating expired sandwiches from convenience stores. My ribs ached, and the stitches on my forehead burned. Finally, in Little Italy, a pawnshop took me in. The owner, a weathered old woman named Marlena, took one look at my bruised, hollowed-out face and asked gruffly, “You know how to clean jewelry? Think you can manage it without anything going missing?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Start at dawn tomorrow. Miss one day and you’re out,”

I lowered my head.

That night, in my small rented room, I opened social media for the first time since the

annulment.

The photos had already exploded across the city.

Linus and Lydia, walking in a moonlit garden. Linus gifting her a platinum and diamond necklace that cost more than my annual salary. The comments were sickeningly sweet: “True love finally wins.” “The Don deserves happiness after that nightmare.” “Such a relief he’s rid of that psycho ex-wife.”

And then, the announcement.

Holy Name Cathedral-the most prestigious venue in the city-had confirmed the wedding date. Three days from now.

I stared at the screen. At Linus’s smiling face, his arm tight around Lydia’s waist, both of them looking toward a future that should have been mine.

I didn’t cry.

I smiled.

A slow, cold smile that felt like the first real expression on my face in years.

I opened my phone and sent a message to Agent Miller.

“Confirmed.”

My plan was set. I would let them have their perfect day. The flowers, the vows, the cheering crowd. I would let her walk down the aisle in a sacred white dress, let her believe she had conquered the world.

And when they stood at the altar, when they were about to exchange rings before the entire city and seal their union-

I would burn it all to the ground.

But not with fire this time.

With the truth.

I lay on the thin mattress, one hand resting on my still-flat stomach, and closed my eyes. Wait for me, my love, I thought into the darkness. Mommy is going to get justice for you.

The moon outside was waxing.

Three more days until the reckoning.