My Husband Chose His True Love's Dog Over My Life

Unfortunately, I overestimated my husband.

He didn't recognize the engagement ring.

Of course; it was Valentine's Day when he tossed it to me after I annoyed him about it—just a cheap ring from a dollar store.

He probably didn't even glance at it when he bought it.

Yet, even if it wasn't worth much, it was still the first gift he ever gave me.

I wiped it clean every day like crazy, carefully wearing it, unwilling to take it off for even a second.

Suddenly, Thatcher walked over to the cops, and after getting their permission, he picked up the ring with tweezers for a closer look.

"This isn't gold; it's made of iron," he stated. "My wife loves jewelry, and I've studied various metals—I wouldn't mistake that."

I looked at him for a second, my brows knitting together.

On my birthday, I dressed up beautifully, wearing a family heirloom diamond bracelet.

But he called me a vase—pretty but useless.

After that day, to please him, I suppressed my desire to adorn myself and never wore jewelry again.

So why was he saying his wife loved jewelry?

Then it hit me.

Right, he was talking about his first love—Veronica Pendleton.

In his eyes, I was probably just a hindrance to their love story.

"The victim probably had poor financial means," he suggested.

That suddenly made me laugh in disbelief. But then an overwhelming pain consumed me, and tears streamed down my face.

Damn, he's hilarious!

Thatcher Cunningham was the richest man in Oakridge City, sitting on billions.

Yet he only gave me a two-dollar engagement ring!

I guess, to him, I was only worth two bucks…

Oh! No, it's not even worth two bucks.

I had to practically beg him to give me that ring.

Just then, the police dug up some new evidence.

"We've collected fragments of kidney tissue from the victim, suggesting severe kidney disease."

Thatcher's assistant looked surprised and asked, "Isn't Jasmine suffering from kidney issues? And she's been missing for five years, right?"

Hearing my name sent a jolt through me, and I couldn't help but turn to Thatcher.

My heart raced with tension and a glimmer of anticipation.

"We were married for five years. Did you really not have a single assistant who cared about me?" I cried.

But he just wore a face full of disgust.

"Don't mention that bitch to me! Her parents and sister died because of her, and she had the nerve to travel the world without apologizing to Veronica! Just hearing that shameless woman's name makes me sick!"

W-What? Mom and Dad... and my sister... Are they all dead? No, they were perfectly healthy...

Could it be that... Thatcher pushed them to their deaths just to get to me?!

A wave of shock instantly crashed over me, and an unusually sharp voice drifted out of my throat.

I charged at Thatcher, grabbing his shoulders, and demanding answers.

But the moment I reached him, my hands went right through his body, like I was grabbing at thin air.

His company had been on the brink once, and it was my parents who sold off their own company's assets to bail him out.

My younger sister had just graduated from a prestigious university, ready to take on the world.

So, was it just his first love that mattered?

Were my life and my family's lives worth nothing to him?

The realization made my blood feel like it was freezing.

How could I have been so blind to fall for such a son of a bitch!

Because of me, my poor family paid the price!

Just then, Thatcher instructed his assistant.

"I have nothing to do with the victim. I gotta go. You can stay here with them."

His voice sounded devoid of any emotion.

He treated his stuff and me the same way.

But whenever Veronica came up, some kind of softness would creep into his eyes, completely at odds with his blank face—like spring breaking through winter's chill.

"Veronica still got cold," he explained, excusing himself. "I need to go home early today to accompany her."