My Husband's Cruel Game Killed Me, Now He's Begging My Ghost

After we married, every time I swallowed some hurt, I would take this ring out and slip it on.

I'd tell myself:

those good times had been real, and whatever friction we had now, I only had to endure it and it would pass.

Fabian gave it a single glance, his face blank.

"Throw it all out."

"She's always used this junk to guilt-trip me, going on about all the hardship she suffered for my sake."

"Let's see what she has left to say after this."

With that, he picked up the box and, without a moment's hesitation, hurled it out the window.

I listened to the muffled thud below.

And instead I went completely calm.

So that was it. Those shared-hardship memories were, in my heart, a pardon written in gold, enough to smooth over countless cracks in a marriage.

In his, they were nothing but blackmail, a curse that had chained him down.

The love I had treasured like a jewel.

It had rotted through from the inside long ago.

After Fabian went into the guest bedroom.

Sherry found the suicide note under my pillow.

Once she understood that I'd already taken poison, meaning to die together with the creditor who had driven Fabian to his death.

She froze for a second.

She walked to the door several times, but in the end she folded that note up neat and careful and tucked it inside her own bra.

Sherry sat on the bed for two full hours.

Then she took out her phone, used AI to make a photo of me arm in arm with a Black man, and sent it to Fabian.

"Lorna says she's off on vacation with her new boyfriend, and wants us to wish her well."

"Since that's how it is, let's not wait for her, hmm?"

Fabian saw it and drove his fist through the mirror.

"Lorna Delgado, you've got some nerve!"

"You really thought I'd stay faithful to a slut like you?"

"I'll show you right now. I do just fine without you!"

He was crazed with fury, and right there announced in the family group chat that he'd get engaged to Sherry the next day.

I drifted in the air, and looking at the greenish rims of his eyes, I only felt how pathetic it was.

Even an enemy, hearing a call from the police station, would cooperate with the investigation.

But my husband, the man who'd shared my bed, couldn't even be bothered to confirm with the police whether I was dead.

Early the next morning.

The villa was packed with relatives coming to offer their congratulations.

His mother, Beth, couldn't stop smiling.

She led Sherry around by the hand, introducing her to everyone.

"This is Sherry, my new daughter-in-law."

"Look at that face, born lucky. So much better than that barren hen Lorna Delgado."

In the middle of all the congratulations, the front door was suddenly shoved open.

The creditor who'd once played his part in Fabian's little act came stumbling in.

He looked around the room, then crashed straight into Fabian.

"Fabian... something's happened! Your wife took poison and killed herself yesterday!"

"The cops hauled me in this morning to cooperate with their investigation!"

The creditor looked terrified out of his mind, clutching at Fabian, unable to get the words out straight.

Fabian's face went iron-gray, and he shoved him off.

"Lorna's making trouble, and now you're in on it with her?"

"A gold-digger like her, kill herself? You've got to be joking."

"You go tell Lorna."

"If she really knows she's in the wrong, then she can crawl back here right now, instead of pulling these underhanded stunts!"

With that, he lifted his glass.

Just as he was about to give the toast, a squad of officers pushed through the crowd toward him.

They flashed their badges, then pulled out a fresh autopsy report and slapped it in Fabian's face.

"Fabian Gilbert."

"Your wife, Lorna Delgado, died of poisoning at eleven o'clock last night in Suite 306 of the Grand Marquis Hotel."

"The cause of the suicide is not yet determined."

"You need to cooperate with our investigation immediately."