His Love Was My Executioner

The next morning, the agent called Percival again.

This time, Percival answered quickly.

"Mr. Tremaine, based on our further investigation, the body's characteristics and your wife's…"

"Are a very high match, is that what you're going to say? Well then, I have to see this for myself!"

This time, Percival didn't resist. His voice was filled with unconcealed excitement.

He hated me so much. He needed me to have died a horrible death.

Only then could the pain of the last six months be soothed.

I followed Percival as he sped to the medical examiner's office, where he eagerly confronted the agent:

"Did you find something?"

The agent, his expression grave, nodded solemnly and led him to the examination table.

"How tall was your wife?"

"Five-foot-six."

"How much did she weigh, approximately?"

"Around a hundred pounds."

"What's her blood type?"

"Rh-negative O."

"Did she have an eagle crest tattoo covering a scar on her right shoulder blade?"

Percival, who had been so nonchalant, froze. His pupils constricted sharply.

The medical examiner carefully lifted a flap of my rotted right shoulder to reveal the tattoo to Percival.

The Tremaine family crest.

Percival knew it better than anyone.

That scar was from when I took a bullet for him, one fired by a rival family.

And that tattoo was a family sigil he had tearfully sat with me to get, needle by agonizing needle.

Back then, he had just become Don and faced constant provocations from his rivals.

Some had even put a high price on his head.

So when I saw the gunman rush him, I didn't hesitate to shield him with my body.

I could be hurt, but the family he was so proud of could not be allowed to collapse.

Percival sniffled, his hands trembling as he took the report and read the physical data over and over again.

"We also discovered the deceased suffered nearly six months of inhumane abuse before her death."

"Her wrists are covered in ligature marks, as if she were bound to something for a long time."

"Her torso is covered in whip marks, the wounds having healed and reopened repeatedly. Her chest… is a festering mass of rotten flesh…"

"Her hair was violently shaved off, and her scalp shows signs of being burned, which is why we couldn't extract any usable DNA."

"And her lower body… it's even more horrific. Severe burns and ulcerations… This is the work of a monster…"

"But the deceased had a powerful will to live. It’s the only way she could have survived for six months."

The medical examiner spoke in a low voice, finally pulling the white sheet over my face, unable to bear looking any longer.

The report in Percival's hand fluttered to the ground. He tried to brainwash himself.

"It can't be her. How could it be that heartless woman? She'd throw anyone under the bus to save herself. She would never die…"

He shook his head, his hands instinctively trembling as he pulled out a cigar and lit it.

The examiner sighed.

"But in the last six months, among all the missing persons reports filed in Chicago, the only one who matches every single one of these characteristics is Mrs. Tremaine."

"You can't let your hatred blind you to the truth of who this is!"

"Shut up! Stop spouting nonsense! How could she be dead? She would never die!"

Percival's eyes were bloodshot as he frantically tore the report to shreds.

"I get it now. Did Liliana bribe you FBI agents to stage this whole thing?"

He laughed menacingly, pointing at everyone in the office.

"She must have put you up to this! How could it be such a coincidence? You're all so certain it's her!"

An agent stepped forward to restrain him.

"Mr. Tremaine, we understand this is difficult, but the test results don't lie. We are federal agents. We would never collude with anyone!"

"I don't believe it! I don't believe it!"

Percival roared again and again, as if shouting could change the reality before him.

I stood to the side, my nose tingling, not knowing whether to laugh or cry.

Percival, I am dead, just as you wished.

Isn't this for the best?

Eventually, the staff at the examiner's office kicked the unruly man out.

He huddled under the eaves of a building on the street, looking like a dejected old man.

A sudden downpour extinguished his cigar.

But he continued to puff on it, oblivious.

His phone vibrated. He answered it, his voice lifeless.

"Who is it?"

"Hello, this is Giannini's Ristorante. Am I speaking with Mr. Tremaine? Your wife previously ordered a six-month course of a special medicinal diet for you. We were wondering if you'd like to renew it?"

Percival's eyes flew open.

"What?"

"Yes, sir. A Mrs. Liliana Tremaine ordered a medicinal diet for you six months ago. We haven't been able to reach her, so we had to call the emergency contact. Would you like to renew?"

Percival said nothing and hung up.

Then, like a dying fish, he gasped for air.

"How is that possible? How could she have ordered it?"

I sighed. Six months ago, I had sensed something was wrong with his health, so I pre-ordered the six-month diet.

It seemed someone else had taken the credit.

Percival's face darkened as he dialed Calista's number.

"Percy, when are you coming back? The engagement dress has arrived. I want to try it on with you."

Percival had no patience for pleasantries. He asked bluntly:

"That medicinal diet. You didn't order it, did you?"

Calista, on the other end, was clearly stunned.

"Percy, you found out?"

"Yes. I know now."

Calista immediately burst into tears, sobbing uncontrollably.

"Percy, I didn't mean to lie to you! It's just that your condition was so bad, I had to pretend it was me who ordered it so you would eat!"

"I couldn't stand seeing you waste away day by day. I just wanted you to get better… sob…"

Hearing the girl's sincere confession, Percival's tightly furrowed brow instantly relaxed.

"I see. It was my mistake for blaming you."

Percival then asked:

"But you were the last person to see Liliana before she left. Did she say where she was going?"

Calista hesitated for a long time, as if making a difficult decision.

"Percy, I was going to take this secret to my grave, but since you're asking, I'll tell you…"

"When your initial diagnosis came back, Liliana was busy making overseas calls. I overheard something about going to Europe to meet someone, that she had to get there…"

"And she left in such a hurry, as if she was finally shaking off the burden that was you."

"Also, do you remember your first misdiagnosis? I looked into it. It was made by a doctor Liliana knew."

"It seems… she had been planning to leave you and claim your assets in Italy all along…"

After speaking, Calista sent Percival a recording from six months ago, along with "proof" of my relationship with that doctor.

"The only reason I didn't tell you was because I was afraid of destroying the last shred of fantasy you had about her…"

Percival hung up. The recording had been spliced together to make it sound like I was eager to dump him, this dead weight, and rush towards a new life.

But the truth was, I had immediately used my connections to contact a top oncology specialist in Italy, determined to take Percival there for treatment as soon as possible.

As for the doctor I was supposedly "close with," we had only met once at a dinner party.

And Calista had gone to such great lengths to gather all this "evidence."

She had been planning to frame me, to send me to my death, from the very beginning.

My heart sank.

I thought painfully of the torturer who had tormented me for six months.

He always blindfolded me, his abuse methodical, as if following instructions.

No matter how I begged him, even kneeling and kowtowing, pleading for him to let me go.

He was unmoved, sneering that what he stood to gain was far more than anything I could offer.

But he never revealed what the reward was.

Later, when he grew tired of me, he tied me to a spinning wheel and used me as a target for throwing knives.

His mood worsened, he drank more heavily, and he beat me more violently.

He would always snarl and call me a waste of money, trying to force me to call Percival for ransom.

But Percival's phone was always unreachable. Every time I failed to get through, he would torture me viciously.

But I still held onto a sliver of hope. I believed Percival would come for me.

I believed he must be trying every possible way to find me.

Until the day I died, when I saw the Percival I hadn't seen in six months say…

He didn't love me anymore.

All my strength left me, and I died in agony.

And now, a thought flashed through my mind.

That torturer, he might be connected to Calista!

Calista hired him to torture me but then refused to pay.

That's why he tried to force me to get money from Percival, and then, in a fit of rage, killed me.

Finally, tears streamed down my face as I shook Percival's shoulders frantically.

Trying to make him hear my accusation:

"It was Calista who hurt me! It was she who had me killed!"

"She's lying to you! I didn't abandon you, I didn't!"

But my fingertips passed uselessly through his shoulders. I could only watch helplessly as he nodded.

"I knew it. How could someone who wishes death on others possibly die herself?"

"She's probably in Europe somewhere, waiting for me to die."

"I understand. Our engagement party is in three days. I'll get ready."

The man hung up the phone in silence and viciously crushed the cigar.

Then he sped off in his car, driving like a madman.

I followed him desperately from behind, feeling my soul weaken bit by bit.

Once again, he had abandoned the truth.

He turned and chose someone else.

I cried out in anguish, watching powerlessly as he rushed towards his new life.

Percival, I won't be here to see the day you discover the truth.

And for the rest of your life, I will no longer be a part of it.

Percival went home and, as if out of guilt, made love to Calista again and again.

He turned off all his phones, seemingly determined to die in Calista's arms.

And I could only watch in agony and despair as they tumbled together, professing their love.

Three days later, at a top hotel in Chicago.

Calista, dressed in her engagement gown, waited shyly for the ceremony to begin.

She looked so beautiful. More beautiful than I did on my wedding day.

I blinked, trying to keep the tears from falling.

At noon, Percival, his face full of affection, walked towards her with a bouquet of flowers.

Calista eagerly threw herself into his arms, like a victorious princess.

She linked her arm with his and walked down the aisle.

By the time I arrived at the venue, breathless, their engagement party had already begun.

Percival only had eyes for her, as if from that moment on, she would be his only star.

There would be no trace of me left.

As the couple exchanged rings and the crowd was about to cheer for the ceremony's completion.

The doors burst open and FBI agents swarmed in, guns raised, shouting:

"FBI! Hands where I can see them! You are both suspects in the murder of Liliana Tremaine. We have sufficient evidence to bring you in!"