He Let His Mistress Defuse the Bomb in Our Daughter's Body

Shannon's POV

Not long after I finished everything, my phone rang.

“Shannon,” the voice on the other end said, “we’ve got the footage from the day of the hostage rescue. But someone had tampered with it, so you can’t see the actual scenario of the hostage rescue. But we’re working on pulling videos from other people’s devices. As soon as we have results, we’ll contact you right away.”

They paused before adding firmly, “Don’t worry. We’ll make sure you get justice.”

I exhaled slowly, some of the tension in my chest loosening. Then I handed the signed divorce papers to my superior for approval.

That afternoon, I planned to go out and choose a burial site for my daughter. But the moment I stepped outside, I could feel the stares, full of judgment and disgust.

“That’s her,” someone whispered loudly. “She reported her own husband just because she was jealous. Max is such a brilliant bomb disposal expert, yet his career might be over because of her.”

“Yeah, she’s always been unstable, paranoid about everyone. Now that her daughter’s dead, she’s even worse.”

“Wouldn’t surprise me if she’s the reason her kid died. Imagine having a mother like that. What a miserable life.”

Even so, I ignored them and headed toward my car. But just as I reached for the door, a rotten egg came flying straight at me.

“Crazy woman! Why don’t you just die?” a man shouted. “It’s bad enough you’re insane, but you’ve dragged other people down with you. Look at yourself. No wonder Mr. Hancock didn’t want you. Serves you right, your daughter’s dead!”

I looked up and saw five or six people who were former hostages Max had rescued, standing by my car, joined by their relatives. They pelted me with rotten vegetables and eggs, shouting over one another.

“Mr. Hancock saved our lives! How could you report someone like him? You’re not even human!”

“You’re just a housewife. Without him supporting you, you wouldn’t be living in comfort at all.”

The eggs hurt when they hit, but nothing hurt as much as my heart. Their curses filled the air, and the bystanders watched with twisted amusement.

Then, through the crowd, Max emerged, holding Vania’s hand. He looked down at me from above, his voice sharp and cold. “Shannon, if you apologize to us here and now, withdraw your complaint, and admit you tried to frame me and Vania. I promise I’ll consider not divorcing you.”

He spoke like a man certain I’d never go through with the divorce, that I wouldn’t dare sign the papers. But he didn’t know I’d already handed them in, signed and final.

I wiped the egg yolk off my sleeve, my eyes locked on him. “Max, keep dreaming. The more you try to stop me, the more it proves you’re hiding something. I won’t let you go. Even if it kills me, I won’t let you go.”

After saying that, I opened my car door, got in, and drove away.

But halfway down the road, my stomach dropped as my brakes weren’t working. No matter how hard I pressed, the speed wouldn’t drop.

The car had just been serviced. This shouldn’t have happened. Unless someone had tampered with it.

Forcing myself to stay calm, I spotted a fish pond up ahead. Without a second thought, I rolled down the window and jumped out.

The world spun, then a deafening crash sounded nearby as my car shot straight into the pond.

Pain exploded in my leg as I hit the ground. My foot had smashed into a rock. The fracture was bad, but a kind passerby rushed me to the hospital.

That night, the news of my “accident” was everywhere, topping the trending searches. People mocked me relentlessly, saying I had brought it on myself.

I was about to turn my phone off when Max’s voice came through the line.

“I heard about your accident,” he said. “Looks like even heaven can’t stand you. If you don’t back off now, your end will be even worse.”