My Wife’s Lover Framed Me for His Crime

Evan sneered at me, his smile sharp and malicious. "Francine said it herself, Carson. I'm much better than you. In work, in bed, all of it. She regrets marrying you, and even more, she regrets not meeting me sooner. This trip to the Maldives? That's the honeymoon she promised me. Don't worry. I'll take better care of her than you ever did. Maybe even get her pregnant with our kid!"

That was it—the final straw.

I raised my fist, prepared to hit, but suddenly I felt a cold object in my hand.

Unaware, Evan had secretly concealed a small knife there. Before I could realize what was happening, he seized my wrist, pulled my arm toward his stomach, and pushed the knife in.

"Ahhh!" Evan screamed, the sound tearing through the air, and blood soaked his white shirt instantly.

I froze, unable to grasp what had just occurred.

Then, I heard rushed footsteps.

“Evan!”

Francine burst into the room. Her eyes went wide, and she paled the moment she saw the scene.

Without hesitation, she hurried to his side, hands trembling as she pressed them against his wound.

Francine turned to me, fury in her eyes, and shouted, "Carson, have you lost your mind? It's one thing to get divorced, but why did you have to hurt Evan, too?"

Shaken up, I stuttered, "I didn't..."

My hand instinctively dropped the knife, and it clattered to the floor.

"Still trying to argue?" Francine's voice sliced through the air, harsh and full of anger. "I saw you stab him with my own eyes! You maniac!"

Evan, pale and weak, leaned into her, but he didn't stop adding fuel to the fire.

"Francine, don't blame Carson. It's my fault," he said feebly. "I shouldn't have come to take your things. He saw it, got so angry, and did something foolish. Don't blame him, please."

"Shut up!" I roared. "Francine, listen to me! I didn't hurt him. He stabbed himself!"

I kept explaining, but it was already too late.

With a face frozen in disbelief, Francine grabbed her phone and immediately contacted the authorities.

"I'm calling the police! Someone's been stabbed here! And it's attempted murder!"

The police arrived swiftly, forcing me to the ground, their cold handcuffs digging into my wrists.

Francine stood to the side, her eyes full of hatred as she looked down at me.

Suddenly, memories from my third year of college flooded back.

I had been falsely accused of stealing something from the dorm. Everyone looked at me with suspicion, and some whispered behind my back.

But Francine had stood by me.

"I believe Carson. He's not that kind of person."

Francine stayed up all night reviewing surveillance footage for evidence. She even argued with the counselor to clear my name. Ultimately, the truth revealed that another student had stolen the item.

At that moment, she smiled.

It was brighter than any sun.

I pulled Francine into a tight hug, swearing that I would cherish her for the rest of my life.

But now? The same kind of accusation, but she was on the other side.

Her eyes—eyes that once held nothing but trust—were now cold, filled only with hatred.

"Carson, I didn't expect you to be so extreme and actually to hurt Evan!" Her voice was laced with disappointment and disgust. "I'll hire the best lawyer, and you'll pay the price for this. You'll rot in jail!"

As they shoved me into the police car, I saw Evan being lifted into the ambulance.

Francine followed closely behind him. She didn't even spare me a glance.

And at that moment, my heart felt like it had died and was completely lifeless.

I turned to the officer beside me and asked, "Excuse me, may I call my family?"