After Rebirth, I Killed the Scumbag's Entire Family

Ethan and his sister must've schemed something up because he was oddly sweet when I got home. His looks were like he was counting down my days. Well, we'll see about that.

This weekend was locked in for a shopping spree with my friends—a much-needed break after years of hustling alongside Ethan in our startup. As I was torn between driving and taking a cab, Ethan pushed for the car.

"Come on, enjoy your day out. It's a real hassle to catch a cab near that mall; driving's your best bet," he reassured me.

"But parking's a fortune too, I'm trying to be thrifty here," I protested. Even after a fresh start in life, old habits stick hard.

"We're flush, babe, don't sweat the small stuff! Just drive," he insisted, nearly pleading.

"If you don't drive, it'll really bug me!" His concern seemed sincere, but from a guy plotting to clean me out in a divorce, it felt off. There was definitely something fishy going on.

I left as he wanted, driving away, but stopped midway to make a call to Ethan's mother.

"Hey, Mom, didn't you want to drive lately? I've got the car out—come on down."

My mother-in-law is 70 this year, her eyesight not what it used to be. Though she got her license two decades ago, she hadn't driven since. Given her poor vision, the family has forbidden her from driving, and I've always stuck to Ethan's strict rules about not letting her near the car.

We didn't live far apart, and she hurried over after my call. I handed her the keys and said, "If you're itching to get behind the wheel, you should head to busier areas," and I set the GPS for the mall before catching a cab myself. Ethan's sketchy demeanor clued me in that something was up with that car.

...

I was laughing it up in the bar, passing candy with a male model through lips, when my phone blew up with alerts. I ignored it at first, but soon saw I had over ten missed calls—all from Ethan and his sister.

I answered to Ethan's explosive tirade, "Dammit, Sunny! Who said you could let Mom take the car? You know she's not supposed to drive!"

Running my fingers over the model's ripped abs, I cooed, "Babe, I'm sorry, I really didn't want to let her drive, but she was throwing a fit—threatened to jump off the balcony if I didn't hand over the keys! I couldn't stop her, and she wouldn't let me follow or even tell you!" The model looked taken aback by my acting chops.

"Are you fucking kidding me? Mom's now in the hospital, a vegetable! Are you happy now?"

Well, she's a vegetable now, huh? Fantastic! Neither you nor your mom ever did right by me, maybe I've done everyone a favor.

Reluctantly keeping up appearances, I said a dramatic goodbye to the model and hopped in a cab to the hospital. I arrived to find Ethan manhandling the driver responsible for the accident, throwing punches.

"You told me to hit her! How was I supposed to know who was in the car? I just went by the plate!" The driver managed to get a few hits in on Ethan.

I intervened to break it up, really just holding Ethan back as the driver kept swinging. "Babe, cut it out! What's this he's saying about you telling him to hit Mom? What's really going on?"

"It was him!" Just as the driver was about to spill the beans, Ethan suddenly pulled it together and dragged the driver into the hallway. Shortly after, the driver left, and Ethan returned to the hospital room side.

"Babe, what in the world is going on? Why would the driver claim you told him to do it?" I asked, feigning confusion.

"Ignore his crap! He's just throwing mud to see what sticks!" Ethan quickly denied, looking visibly rattled.

"So, what's our next move?"