I Called For Help In Cold Room But My Husband Called Me A Liar Chapter 13

I Called For Help In Cold Room But My Husband Called Me A Liar Chapter 13

As I followed Thomas out of the office, I crossed paths with Nolan emerging from the evidence locker. He

clutched the delicate chain police had dug up from beneath the rose bush, wailing in pure agony.

It had been his eighteenth birthday gift to me-a cheap promotional trinket the shop gave him when he bought Sasha’s jewelry. He’d tossed it to me carelessly when he saw how badly I wanted it, yet I’d worn it

every single day, too afraid to take it off.

“Ceci… my Ceci…” He choked out my childhood nickname, the sound shattered and broken.

I turned my head away, unable to watch. He hadn’t called me Ceci once since Sasha moved into our house.

Now that I was dead, the name spilled freely from his lips. But it meant nothing to me anymore. I’d long

stopped craving his love.

Thomas walked past him without a single glance. I had no idea what he planned to do next, but the invisible chains binding my ghost to his form forced me to trail after him.

Thirty minutes later, he arrived back at the wedding house the two of them were supposed to share. He tore down every wedding decoration he’d hung for Sasha with his own hands.

Once every trace of their ceremony was cleared away, he dialed Sasha’s number.

“Sasha, I’m sorry I bailed on our trip to your parents’ yesterday. I’ve set up a surprise for you at home to

make it up. Hurry back.”

Sasha’s voice brightened with delight over the line.

“Really? But you snapped at me in the hospital earlier. I’m gonna make you make it up to me properly when I

get there.”

Thomas answered her in a soft, gentle tone, yet his eyes were cold and empty.

By the time Sasha pulled into the driveway, night had fully fallen. Every light inside the house was switched off. She called out Thomas’s name in confusion, fumbling along the wall for the light switch..

The overhead lamp flickered on. Dominating the living room wall was a huge framed memorial portrait of

Sasha let out a shrill scream.

“I didn’t mean for this to go this far! I only paid him to scare her, nothing more-” Panic sent her stumbling

backward, her words spilling out unfiltered.

Thomas stepped squarely into her path, seizing a fistful of her hair and forcing her face inches from my

photograph, making her stare straight at my image.

“Why can’t you look at her? Didn’t you always claim Cecilia was your beloved older sister?”

He paused, his voice dropping to a menacing rumble.

“Or is it that you’ve done something unforgivable to her, and the guilt makes you afraid to meet her eyes?”

Sasha’s gaze went unfocused. She shook her head, tears streaming down her face.

“It wasn’t me… none of this was my doing…”

Thomas slid one hand up to her throat and squeezed hard, cutting off her breath. Sasha’s face turned purple,

her hands thrashing wildly to break free. He only loosened his grip once her skin turned blue and she gasped

for air.

Sasha curled into a ball, hacking violently as she struggled to catch her breath.

Thomas tilted his head and smiled, leaning down to murmur cold words into her ear.

“We have a long list of scores to settle-hiring a hitman, leaking classified police intel to get Cecilia killed.

This isn’t even close to over.”