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For 35 Years, I Kissed the Accomplice of Mom's Killer Novel Cover

For 35 Years, I Kissed the Accomplice of Mom's Killer

From the first day of their marriage, billionaire Randall Ottinger tested his wife's loyalty with a strict financial system. It took thirty-five years of devotion for him to finally throw her a grand birthday party. But tragedy strikes on her way there when a devastating car accident leaves her hospitalized. Desperate and lacking funds, she begs her wealthy husband for a $2,500 loan to cover her emergency surgery. Instead of helping, he ruthlessly rejects her plea.
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Chapter 2

Martha's POV

The words had barely left my mouth when an ashtray came flying at me, striking my forehead with force. Blood spilled out instantly, and everything around me blurred.

The world spun, and I almost lost consciousness.

Meanwhile, Randall stood there, glaring at me, his anger written all over his face.

“What nonsense are you spouting? There’s nothing between Paula and me. Stop letting your filthy thoughts cloud your judgment! I bet you’re just trying to avoid paying your share, so you’re making up lies!”

I looked at him coldly. “I’m just a stay-at-home wife. Where am I supposed to get that kind of money? But the inheritance my mom left me? I invested all of it in your company. You’ve made a lot from it, haven’t you? You always said once the time was right, you’d give it to me. Thirty-five years have passed. When exactly are you going to give it to me so I can pay you back?”

Randall froze, caught off guard for a moment. But it wasn’t long before he sneered, dismissing me as if I were nothing.

"You want your money back, seriously?" If it weren’t for me, you would’ve never found the person who caused the accident. I'm supporting you. That money was simply repayment for my kindness!”

Watching him stand there so self-righteous, I felt my heart tear apart. My mom’s face before her death flashed in my mind, reluctant and full of grief.

It was laughable.

I had once sworn to avenge her.

And now, 35 years later, I'd missed the real bad guy and spent years working for the guy who helped him.

If my mom could see this from above, she would probably cry at my foolishness.

I swallowed my anger, my voice trembling as I spoke. “If you won’t give it to me, then we’ll divorce. I’m not asking for much. Just give me the necklace you gave Paula today.”

Randall tensed up, his face darkening as he prepared to lash out at me. But before he could, Ozzie burst out of the room. He rammed into my stomach, causing me to lose my balance and fall backward onto the floor with a loud thud.

“You’re nothing but a pig! How dare you try to steal from Auntie Paula? A pig like you doesn’t deserve such an expensive necklace!”

My grandson’s small face twisted with disgust, as though I were some plague.

But when he was young, he used to stick to me, sweetly saying, “Grandma, you’re my favorite. You’re the most beautiful woman in the world. No jewel or treasure can compare to you!”

Jenna, who had been silent until now, finally pulled Ozzie to her side.

Her voice was laced with sarcasm as she said, “Ozzie, how can you push your grandma like that? She’s so good at manipulating people. What if she says you pushed her and demands a necklace as expensive as Aunt Paula’s?”

When Ozzie heard that, his disdain deepened.

He tried to keep insulting me, but then Randall said, “Paula invited us to watch the fireworks.”

Suddenly, Ozzie’s demeanor changed. His frown melted away, replaced by a grin. He eagerly said he wanted to go.

"Oh, come on, Mom!" Delbert's son said, his tone sharp. "We can't disappoint Aunt Paula's kindness."

Jenna, my daughter-in-law, nodded in agreement. "Yeah, we need to be grateful. She’s been so generous."

Even Randall’s long, indifferent face lit up with a boyish joy, as if he were a young man about to go on a date with his sweetheart.

None of them even glanced in my direction.

As they passed by, Ozzie intentionally stepped on my toe, stuck his tongue out at me, and then walked away.

I forced a smile, but it was thick with bitterness.

Once they left, I slumped onto the sofa, feeling out of place. It was then that I noticed the medicine bag I had prepared for Delbert, lying discarded in the trash.

When Delbert was younger, he contracted a rare disease that no doctor could cure.

Eventually, I had learned this technique from an old healer in the Southwest, someone from New Mexico. He appeared to believe he no longer needed the medicine I made for him, which is why he threw it away so carelessly.

But he was wrong.

Although the disease had been cured, it could still relapse. Delbert needed to take my medicine continuously for five years to stay healthy.

In the future, he would regret this decision.

After all, in just a week, I would be gone for good.

And no one would be there to treat him anymore.

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