My Husband Arranged My Attack For His Mistress

While on my way to visit my mother for the last time, I was ambushed and robbed in an alley. When I tried to fight back, the attacker beat me severely. By the time I was rescued, I was barely hanging on. My husband, Devon Riley, missed my call for help because he was in a meeting, and he was heartbroken. He swore he'd never leave my side again. Meanwhile, my son, Jake, dropped to his knees, begging his mentor to come out of retirement to save me.

In the hospital room, I overheard Jake speaking quietly: "Dad, do you think it was going too far to hire someone to rob Mom just so Aunt Cleo could see Grandma one last time? Mom and Grandma have always been so close. If she finds out what really happened..."

Devon sighed and replied, "Cleo's someone I've never been able to let go of, especially since your grandma was his mother too. Your mom has always treated him poorly. That's why I took such drastic measures. As for your mom, I'll spend the rest of the time making things right."

That conversation made me tremble. Under these circumstances, there was no reason for me to stay in this family any longer.

The emotional chaos sent the heart monitor beeping wildly, drawing Devon and Jake's attention. When they realized I was awake, they looked panicked for a moment. But Devon quickly pulled himself together, his eyes brimming with tears as he said, "Honey, you're awake. I don’t know what I’d do without you."

With a furious expression, Jake said, "Mom, don't worry. Whatever it takes, I'll find those thugs and make them pay." To outsiders, our worried faces might look like those of a happy family, but their deeds cut my heart like a knife.

Suddenly, Devon seemed to snap into action and called for the doctor to check on me. The doctor entered, examined me with efficiency, and sighed, "The patient's left hand will never be able to handle heavy tasks again, and her injuries will take a long time to heal. Who could do something so vicious?"

I looked at Devon and Jake, echoing the doctor, "Yes, who could be so cruel?" They seemed hurt by the doctor's words, but their eyes betrayed a flicker of guilt.

After the doctor left, Devon tucked in my blanket, speaking softly, "Honey, just focus on recovering. Don't worry about anything else." Despite their apparent concern, I felt a chill run through me.

Neither of them mentioned my mother since I woke up, but clinging to a shred of hope, I asked, "How is my mom?"

Devon hesitated, looking away for a moment, then met my eyes with sadness. "Your mom passed away on the same day you were hurt."

I pressed on, stubbornly, "What about the funeral...?"

Before Devon could answer, Jake jumped in, "Grandma's passing was on such a special day. I made sure to arrange the funeral myself."

Listening to their lies, any hope I had faded away. I turned my head and closed my eyes, my voice heavy with disappointment. "Fine, I understand."

Seeing my distress, Devon gently said, "Honey, focus on getting better. Your mom wouldn't want you to harm your health over this." Jake added, "Mom, even though Grandma's gone, you still have Dad and me. You need to take care of yourself for us."

I wanted to challenge them, to ask how they could claim to care for me while doing what they did for someone else. But eventually, the medication pulled me into a fitful sleep. In a haze, I overheard Jake speaking to Devon again, "Dad, wouldn't it be too heartless if Mom found out Aunt Cleo took Grandma's ashes?"

Devon was silent for a long time before he replied, resigned, "I can't refuse Cleo's requests. Besides, if we don’t say anything, how would your mom know those aren't Grandma’s ashes? People used to build memorials just to have something to cling to—it’s fine."

Hearing their words, tears rolled down my cheeks. Devon quickly noticed and gently shook me awake, concerned, "Honey, what's wrong? Did you have a nightmare?"

I avoided his gaze, whispering, "I dreamt of my mom. She said she didn’t know where she was."

Devon was taken aback, while Jake quickly tried to reassure me, "Mom, you're just projecting your thoughts into dreams. You know dreams aren't real."

I looked at them and slowly asked, "Really?" Without waiting for a response, I answered myself, "Maybe they aren’t."

Devon and Jake looked visibly worried about my mental state, but I didn’t want to see their deceitful faces anymore. I closed my eyes again. After what felt like an eternity, I heard Jake's voice filled with excitement, "Dad, Aunt Cleo is here."