Sky‑High Wife, Sky‑High Sin

Thanks to Everett, my right ear throbbed with relentless, excruciating pain.

With a somber expression, the doctor told me my eardrum was perforated and that I could lose my hearing permanently. I nodded mechanically.

The career I had once been so proud of was over. Still, there was no time to grieve. I rushed to the VIP ward to pick up my father, Anthony Schwarz.

He sat silently in his wheelchair, his figure gaunt and painfully thin. The moment he saw me enter, a faint light stirred in his clouded eyes.

I crouched down and grasped his hand firmly. "Dad, I'm here. Let's go home."

…

The airport entrance was crowded with people. The bustling atmosphere seemed to lift my father's spirits as he sat in his wheelchair.

He suddenly took my hand in his, his emotions running high. "Jack… about the birthmark on you… you're actually Wright Group's–"

I leaned forward, straining to catch his words.

"Jacob Schwarz!" Charlotte's icy voice interrupted our conversation.

Without even sparing my father a glance, she pulled me aside and shoved a document into my face.

"I haven't approved your resignation. I've also spoken to the Federal Aviation Administration. Without my consent, you're not going anywhere."

Her tone was cold, allowing no room for argument.

"Charlotte, do you really have to go this far?" I asked, my voice trembling with anger.

"Go this far?" Charlotte sneered. "You're the one who crossed the line first! Jacob, I'm warning you—don't ever test my limits again. Be good and come back with me. Once you've had your ear treated, return to the control tower and report for duty."

With a condescending tone, she added, "As for your father, I'll arrange the best medical transport and have him admitted to my family's private hospital."

"I'm not agreeing to that," I replied, my voice sharp and cold.

Amid our heated exchange, my father became visibly agitated in his wheelchair. He pointed toward Everett in the distance. Struggling to rise, he let out shallow, ragged groans.

Suddenly, the sharp screech of tires cut across the air. A fully loaded baggage vehicle came racing straight toward us at full speed.

"Dad!" I screamed. But by the time I reached him, it was already too late.

A loud bang echoed. The sound of that impact broke my world apart in an instant.

I could only watch in horror as my father, still in his wheelchair, was violently flung onto the hard marble floor. Blood ran freely from the back of his head.

In that instant, time itself seemed to stand still. I rushed forward like a madman. I pulled my father close, feeling the cold spreading through him. My entire body stiffened in place.

Standing in the crowd, Everett removed his sunglasses, a cold, vicious smile spreading across his face.

At that moment, it struck me—this wasn't an accident. It was a calculated act of murder.