The Mystery of My Wife's (Faked) Death

I quickly spotted something suspicious. Pointing at the issuing institution on the death certificate, I said calmly, "Simon, the patient passed away in our hospital. The death certificate should have been issued by us. Even if you distrust this hospital, you'd at least need to consult another top-tier hospital or a certified medical institution. What exactly do you mean by bringing a death certificate from some random clinic?"

"And besides," I added, my tone unwavering, "the doctor in charge of last night's resuscitation wasn't me."

Before my words had fully landed, one of the doctors involved in last night's emergency stepped forward, snatching the certificate to examine it.

With just a glance, he bristled with indignation. "Death due to delayed resuscitation? Absolute nonsense!" he exclaimed. "When the patient arrived last night, she was already at death's door. How is this our fault? This is nothing but an attempt to slander the hospital!"

Simon's face remained unflustered, as though he had foreseen this. Avoiding the issue of the certificate entirely, he redirected the accusation.

Pointing a trembling finger at me, he bellowed, "Of course she died due to delayed resuscitation! The nurse called Dr. Kingsley last night, and he outright refused to intervene! I even went to his office, pleading with him to save her. He wouldn't budge! The nurses here can back me up on that!"

His voice rose to a crescendo as he turned to the gathered staff. "A mother and child—both gone! Can any of you vouch that Ben didn't deliberately avoid saving them?"

The room fell into an uneasy silence. The gravity of the situation—the loss of life—hung heavy in the air, and no one dared to voice their support for me.

Sensing victory, Simon smirked, a flicker of triumph in his eyes.

"Seize him!" he barked to his entourage. "This devil doesn't deserve to walk free. We demand justice for Clara and her child!"

I remained calm. "Hold on. Everything you've just said doesn't constitute evidence against me."

Fixing him with a steady gaze, I continued, "The police will be here any moment now. When they arrive, I'll exercise my rights as her husband to request an autopsy. Also, Simon, I'd like to know—who gave you permission to remove my wife's body without authorization last night?"

Before Simon could stammer a response, a voice, raspy with age but firm, cut through the crowd. "I did."

Everyone turned as my father-in-law and mother-in-law were escorted in by the police. The old man shrugged off the officer's support, stormed toward me, and slapped me across the face with all his strength.

The sharp crack echoed in the room, and the sting was immediate. I could feel the imprint of his hand burning into my cheek.

"Ben!" he roared, his voice trembling with rage. "We treated you like family, and this is how you repay us?"

His chest heaved as he continued his tirade. "You refused to save them because you were drunk! We tolerated your drinking habits for so long, but to think you'd let Clara and her unborn child die because of it!"

Turning to the police, he donned an air of righteous despair. "Officers, I want to report my son-in-law for practicing medicine under the influence. Check his office drawers—you'll find the bottles there."

It was a script I had heard before, word for word, from my previous life. As his accusations rang out, I pressed my tongue against the inside of my cheek where the slap had landed, my fists instinctively clenching and then relaxing.

So this is the man I treated like a father all along.

Aside from Simon and his supporters, all eyes turned to me—shock written across their faces.

The police officers moved quickly. From my desk drawer, they retrieved an empty bottle of liquor.

The moment the bottle emerged, the room's atmosphere shifted. The disbelief in their eyes gave way to disdain and anger.

The doctors who had been standing up for me moments ago now backed away, putting distance between themselves and my scandal-tainted figure.

Simon, triumphant, couldn't resist sneering. "Ben, the evidence is right here. What's your defense now?"

I allowed myself a faint, sardonic laugh. Looking him straight in the eye, I raised my hand and pointed first at my father-in-law, then at Simon.

"Officers," I said, my voice steady but sharp, "I'd like to report these two for framing me."