Once My Husband's Timer Reach Zero, I'll be Filthy Rich

The same hands that once broke my collarbone were now gently placing a bowl in front of me.

"Eat," Joseph said, his voice devoid of its usual disdain.

I hesitated, watching him closely before scooping up a spoonful. No poison. The texture was smooth, the flavor balanced. Even suited my taste. My grip tightened around the spoon. Something about this felt... off.

Halfway through eating, he reached out suddenly, his thumb brushing the corner of my lips. I flinched, instinctively pulling away, but his gaze remained steady. For the first time in three years, it wasn't cold or mocking. It was unreadable, almost gentle, like that of a normal husband.

A thought immediately popped into my head—was this a deathbed kindness?

Yes, that had to be it. He was about to die.

My hands trembled slightly. I set the spoon down and stood up, excusing myself before rushing back to the bedroom. I unlocked my phone, the screen still open to Ferrari's official website. My gaze fixed on the red Portofino M convertible page, lingering over my test-drive reservation: [Test drive successfully booked – Tomorrow, 10:00 AM]

A slow smile spread across my lips. Next week, a tropical island vacation. After that, wrapping up the inheritance process. And the first thing I'd do? Sponsor ten young, handsome men to take turns lulling me to sleep.

The life I wanted would begin today!

A sudden knock on the door pulled me back. I quickly composed myself before stepping out, only to see Joseph standing there, dressed in formal attire. His car keys lay forgotten on the side table.

"I'm not going," he said.

I frowned. "Not going where?"

"To see Cindy." His voice was casual, as if he hadn't just shattered every pattern he had established for the past three years. "I'll take you to the hospital instead."

My body stiffened. "What... did you just say?"

He glanced at me nonchalantly. "Didn't you say your collarbone still hurts from when I hit you the other day? Let's get it checked."

I was stunned. This wasn't normal.

Not only had he suddenly developed a conscience—he wanted to atone for his sins before dying?

I didn't refuse. Just nodded and obediently followed him into the car. The drive was eerily silent. Sitting quietly in the passenger seat, I watched as he personally opened the door for me upon arrival, handed me water and even dealt with the administration himself.

It felt like I had stepped into a different universe.

"Don't worry," he said as we sat waiting. "I'll stay with you the whole time today."

I chuckled lightly, my lips curling into something between amusement and disbelief. "Alright, darling."

I could hardly wait to see him die with my own eyes.

By noon, when we returned home, the maids looked at me like I was possessed—watching as I hummed a tune, setting the table with a grin like I had won the lottery.

Joseph actually cooked. Tomato-braised beef, stir-fried vegetables with garlic and even a dish he had never eaten before—egg tofu. That was my favorite.

Sitting across from each other at the dining table, I barely heard a word he was saying. My gaze fixated on the countdown above his head, watching as the numbers ticked down second by second.

[0 days, 0 hours, 0 minutes, 30 seconds]

My heart pounded against my ribs.

[0 days, 0 hours, 0 minutes, 5 seconds]

A slow exhale.

[0 days, 0 hours, 0 minutes, 3 seconds]

I gripped the edge of my chair.

[0 days, 0 hours, 0 minutes, 1 second]

I closed my eyes, silently whispering—thank god.

But when I opened them again, he was still chewing his beef.

And the countdown over his head? Gone. Completely vanished.

My breath hitched. My stomach twisted into a knot. This couldn't be right. According to everything I had read in those obscure forums, death predictions didn't just disappear. It was as if... as if he was no longer someone who was about to die. As if he had escaped death itself.

A cold sweat broke out along my spine. Stiffly, I stood up, my legs carrying me toward the bathroom as if on autopilot. Once inside, I turned on the mirror and stared at my reflection, my pulse hammering in my ears.

Then, I saw it.

A brand-new countdown had appeared above my head.

[0 days, 23 hours, 59 minutes, 46 seconds.]

I had less than a day.

My breath hitched. My fingers curled against the sink.

"What's wrong?" Joseph's voice came from behind me, slow and measured.

A chill ran down my spine.

Then—click.

The bathroom door locked.

A pair of ice-cold hands clamped tightly around my throat!