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The Doctor's Wife Novel Cover

The Doctor's Wife

After a surgical error, my husband supposedly took his own life. His death left me to face the lethal vengeance of a grieving family alone. As I died, I discovered the truth: he was alive, living in luxury with a mistress and a new family. Now, I have woken up on the very day he faked his demise. This fantasy novel follows my journey of revenge in a world of billionaire secrets and action as I confront the man who sacrificed my life for his own wealth.
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Chapter 4

I approached Christopher’s supposedly lifeless body and lifted the white sheet covering him, forcing out a couple of tears for good measure.

"Christopher, I’m sure your spirit would agree with this. Isn't that right?" I asked aloud. "All we need is a fingerprint here, and this contract will take effect. The patient’s family will forgive you."

Having said that, I grabbed his hand firmly.

His hands stiffened, as though he had heard me, and he seemed to resist signing the contract. However, I forced his hand down without batting an eye until the contract was successfully signed.

I glanced at the terms on the document, suppressing the urge to smile, and handed it to the lawyer.

Emily, unable to stop me, put on a forced smile.

"Yuna, let’s finalize the death certificate quickly so Christopher can rest in peace," she urged.

I stared at the death certificate, but made no move to sign it.

I smirked inwardly. Even now, they were still trying to fake Christopher’s death so he could escape. If that’s the case, I hoped they wouldn't blame me for being ruthless.

I pulled out my phone and dialed a number. "Hello, is this the crematorium? Yes, my husband Christopher has just passed away. Please send someone to pick up the body."

Soon after I made the call, the crematorium staff arrived. Without hesitation, I signed the death certificate and handed it to them.

"Thank you so much. I’d like to have my husband buried as soon as possible, preferably today."

Cremations weren't typically done in the afternoon. After a little financial encouragement, however, they sped things up.

Emily's face turned chalk-white as they prepared to take Christopher’s body. She hurried forward to stop the staff.

"There’s no rush. Maybe we should wait until his mother wakes up before taking him to the crematorium. After all, this is her son. She should have the chance to be by his side," she reasoned.

The staff hesitated and looked to me for instructions. In response, I pried Emily's hand away.

"Don’t listen to her. She’s just my husband’s colleague. Go ahead and take him," I said coldly.

As Christopher was about to be loaded onto the vehicle, Emily panicked. By now, she desperately wanted to reveal the truth.

"Yuna!" she blurted. "I just saw Christopher’s hand move! Maybe there’s still hope! Let’s try to save him!"

I stopped in my tracks, turned to her, and threw the signed death certificate in her face.

"You gave me this death certificate, didn’t you? Now you’re telling me the deceased isn’t dead? I’m beginning to suspect you had something to do with Christopher’s death!" I snapped.

Hearing that, Emily’s face turned ashen. She hadn’t expected me to threaten an investigation into the surveillance footage.

Now that things had come to this, she changed her story and started weeping.

"I was wrong, Yuna! I lost my senses for a moment… After all, Christopher and I were colleagues. I just couldn’t accept the news of his cremation so soon. I wasn’t thinking straight. Please, let me go to the crematorium with you."

As I wasn’t sure how much anesthetic Emily had given Christopher, I decided not to waste any more time arguing with her.

"There’s no need. You’re an outsider. Seeing Christopher off is none of your business," I replied.

With that, I turned around and left the hospital. I took Christopher directly to the crematorium. As I departed, I noticed Emily frantically making a phone call. I couldn't be sure who she was calling.

Once Christopher was loaded onto the crematorium’s vehicle, a delighted grin spread across my face. My heart swelled with satisfaction.

I recalled his scathing remark from my previous life.

Upon seeing me in my paralyzed state, stuck in a wheelchair, his eyes flashed mockingly and he sneered in disdain.

"I thought you were some beggar. You’re filthy! Stay away from me," he spat.

Emily and their child stood beside him. The child threw a lollipop at my face with a disgusted expression.

"Eww! Mommy, this lady looks so ugly!" the child piped. "I don’t like her! You’re way prettier, Mommy!"

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