He Staged His Death to Steal My Fortune,So I Let Him Die for Real

Just then, another comment flashed across the screen.

[Stephen isn't dead! A tree broke his fall!]

[Oh my god, Stephen is so lucky! If she gives him proper first aid right now, he might actually survive!]

What? He's still alive?

The comments continued rolling in.

[I hope this idiot female side character doesn't call Laura for help again. They're afraid she'll go down to find him herself, so the male lead is going to pretend he's critically injured! If she calls Laura again, Laura will teach her the WRONG first aid methods, and the male lead will actually die!]

Oh? Well then, I absolutely have to go find him myself.

"Honey! Don't be scared! I'm coming to save you!"

I took the cable car down to the base of the mountain and found Stephen.

He lay in a pool of blood, his leg bones twisted at grotesque angles. His face was covered in scrapes, and his chest rose and fell in shallow, labored breaths.

His eyes barely fluttered open. When he saw me, he weakly reached out a hand.

"Sweetheart... save me..."

I threw myself at him, clutching him as I wailed.

"Stephen! You're alive! Hold on—I'll call the park ranger to rescue you!"

The moment I mentioned calling for the ranger, his eyes went wide with terror.

"No... get a doctor!"

But I pretended not to hear and dialed the ranger's number again.

"I found my husband. He's in really bad shape—blood everywhere, and I think his arms and legs are all broken. Is there any first aid you can teach me?"

"Is that so? Then hurry up and give him CPR. Chest compressions. Help him breathe again. Press hard, and don't stop."

The instant those words left her mouth, Stephen nearly choked on his own breath.

He tried to stop me, but couldn't force out a single word.

With injuries like his—at minimum a comminuted fracture—performing CPR would be like personally escorting him to death's door.

But how would I know that? After all, I was just an ordinary housewife. How could anyone expect me to have that kind of medical knowledge?

I immediately knelt down and pressed hard on his chest.

A strangled groan tore from his throat. His ribcage buckled like it had been struck with a hammer, and blood welled up from the corner of his mouth.

"Ahhh!"

Stephen screamed in agony, his body convulsing.

I feigned panic. "Are you sure this is right? My husband seems like he's in so much pain!"

"Of course it's right! I'm a professional. If you don't do what I say, then you might as well let your husband die." Her voice dripped with impatience.

"No, no, no—I'll listen! I'll do whatever you say! As long as it saves my husband!"

"Then keep going. Press even harder. At least thirty compressions per set, no stopping."

Stephen couldn't breathe. Each compression felt like a boulder slamming into his chest.

He tried to push me away, but his arms had no strength. All he could do was twitch helplessly as his breathing grew more ragged, his face turning a mottled purple. Blood began seeping from his eyes, nose, and mouth.

Comments exploded across the screen.

[OH MY GOD, Stephen is going to be pressed to death by this bitch! Author, are you his evil stepmother or something?!]

[Laura baby, you're going to KILL your precious Stephen! CPR on a fracture patient is LETHAL!]

[Even if Stephen wasn't injured, pressing like this would break something! Does she actually love our Stephen or not?!]

My arms were getting tired. I sat back on the ground, wanting to rest for a moment.

But Laura's voice roared through the phone.

"Did you stop?! Keep going! Don't you want your husband to survive?!"

"Oh—okay!"

I scrambled back up, thinking to myself:

Darling husband, take a good look at the mistress you chose. She can't wait for you to die.

I resumed the compressions. Harder this time.