The Double Life of My Billionaire Husband

The sound of the gavel reverberated through the hushed courtroom, causing Lucille's heart to nearly stop. Her mind spun with a whirlwind of thoughts, desperately hoping that the jury would deliver a verdict of not guilty. She dug her nails into her flesh, clenching her fist tightly as she awaited the outcome.

"On the sole charge of the indictment, first-degree murder, we find the defendant, Lucille Powell, guilty."

The weight of those words felt like a soul departing from her body. The judge's voice melded with the cacophony of noise erupting from the audience in the courtroom.

"Lucille Powell, you are hereby sentenced to death with a one-month reprieve on the charge of murdering Mr. Richard Reed. Bailiff, take the defendant into custody."

All color drained from Lucille's face. She had known deep down that it would unfold this way, as she had no evidence to prove her innocence. Yet, she refused to resign herself to this fate. She mustered the strength to stand, a flicker of hope urging her to run and plead with the judge for reconsideration. But her body felt as light as a feather, and she weakly collapsed back into her chair. Despair enveloped her entire being, leaving her eyes hollow and devoid of life.

Two police officers hoisted her up, their firm grips causing the iron chains on her hands and feet to rattle. The sound pierced her ears with each step she took. The weight of her impending death sentence turned her legs to jelly, threatening to send her sprawling forward, but the vigilant officers caught her just in time, preventing her from collapsing.

As they exited the courthouse, Larica appeared, blocking Lucille's path with a twisted smile of satisfaction, relishing in her sister's plight. She leaned in close, her voice dripping with smugness and disdain.

"I told you, Lucy. There would be nothing left for me to snatch," Larica whispered in her ear, taunting her.

Lucille's gaze burned with hatred as she stared at her sister's repugnant expression. The acidic surge of anger swelled in her stomach, threatening to consume her.

"Grandpa's death has to be connected to you!" Lucille burst out. Her eyes were bloodshot as she glared at Larica.

The desire to strike her sister with all her might surged within her, but the restraints on her hands prevented any physical retaliation. She attempted to lunge at Larica with her body, but her sister quickly evaded her, causing Lucille to crash to the ground, her face hitting the pavement.

A hiss of pain escaped Lucille's lips, leaving a metallic taste in her mouth. Larica grinned, crouching down to her level.

"Just accept your fate. No matter what you say, it's already evident that you're seen as a criminal in everyone else's eyes," Larica jeered, her laughter echoing through the air. "They watched the video of you killing Grandpa Ricky. If we weren't sisters, I would press charges against you for physical assault, considering how you tried to harm me. But luckily for you, I'm merciful. Your death is already sealed."

"Sisters?" Lucille gnashed her teeth, her eyes burning with rage. She had treated Larica as her sister, but the same sentiment was clearly not reciprocated. What had she done to deserve this?

"A so-called sister who would eagerly tear apart her own sibling's throat," Lucille spat out, her words laced with spite. "You came here just to revel in my misery, didn't you? Do you despise me that much?"

Larica's eyes flickered with a trace of hatred, but she suppressed her emotions and offered a gentle smile. "Yes, I hate you. You enjoy pretending to sleep, don't you? Well, don't worry. After a month, you'll be sleeping forever."

Lucille's body stiffened at Larica's words. Despite years of trying to convince her otherwise, all her attempts to defend herself were disregarded. She took a deep breath and locked eyes with Larica. "I wasn't pretending. Why won't you believe me?"

Rolling her eyes, Larica raised an eyebrow and looked down at Lucille with condescension. "There's one thing you still don't know. Our parents went to the media, publicly disowning you. They made it clear that they don't have a daughter like you, a murderer. You're nothing but an orphan from this day forward, while I remain the only cherished daughter of the Powell family."

Larica observed Lucille's expression, finding satisfaction in her sister's crestfallen face. She smirked and walked away, leaving Lucille behind.

As Lucille watched Larica's figure recede, she could no longer hold back the tears she had suppressed. Larica's fiery red dress fluttered in the wind, resembling butterfly wings. Her demonic sister had freedom, while Lucille was forced to accept this cruel fate.

She clutched her chest, pounding it to alleviate the pain and suffocation weighing on her heart. "Why did they disown me?" she cried out internally, although she knew the answer deep down.

Throughout her upbringing, she had often heard that children were the most precious beings in a parent's heart. Parents couldn't bear to see their children in pain and would willingly endure the suffering themselves. But what about her? Since her grandmother's death, she had never felt the warmth of a true home.

"Now that I'm accused of murdering Grandpa, they severed all ties without hesitation. That's why they didn't come to support me. In their eyes, I'm just a disposable daughter, someone they can discard at any moment," she thought bitterly.

Tears streamed down her cheeks like cascading waterfalls. Yes, they were indeed her parents. They were forcing her to die.

Sniffling, she resolved. "Fine. If they want me dead, I'll grant their wish."

With tears clouding her vision, Lucille glanced around the room and noticed the pistol holstered on the police officer's waist. She gulped and reached out to grab it, but suddenly, a sharp, cold voice resounded in her mind, causing her to pause.

"You're a fool and a coward. Can't you muster the courage, even just once?"

His harsh words jolted her out of her stupor. She knew someone was framing her and wouldn't allow them to escape justice.

"That's right; I can't die yet. I'm not a murderer, and I haven't killed anyone!" Lucille clenched her fist, a surge of determination coursing through her.

Now confined in jail, stripped of her rights as a convicted criminal, Lucille sat on her bed in her prison uniform, her gaze fixed on the door, patiently awaiting the return of the mysterious man. She knew he would come back because he claimed to want her.

As night fell, Lucille struggled to keep her eyes open, succumbing to the embrace of drowsiness. When she woke up again, she found herself back in that dark room, relieved by the familiar scent that enveloped her.

"You're here," she calmly stated, as if speaking to an old friend.

"Have you made up your mind?"The man smiled and cut straight to the chase.