The Wife He Buried Alive

"You were never this aggressive before, Donna. Now you're pushing people, hitting them. Seems I've been spoiling you too much."

He yanked her to her feet, his tone severe. "You've been pregnant before. You know what a pregnant woman should eat. This is your punishment—make a nutritious meal for Nancy."

A searing pain shot through Donna, as if her skin were being stripped from her back. She stared at him in disbelief. "Roger, I’m your wife!"

Tears streamed down her face.

Perhaps it was the raw anguish in her voice, or the sheer wretchedness of her appearance, but a flicker of hesitation crossed Roger’s eyes. Then his gaze landed on the red handprint on Nancy’s cheek, and the words died in his throat.

"Donna, you know how I am. It’s not personal—it’s about what you did. Whoever makes a mistake faces the consequences."

Donna trembled violently, barely able to stay upright.

*It’s not personal? And what about Terry? When you strangled Terry with your own hands, why didn’t you think about your own flesh and blood!*

Two servants seized Donna, whose strength had completely drained, and hauled her toward the kitchen. They forced a hot pan into her hands.

The moment she gripped it, the handle snapped. Boiling oil splashed directly toward her abdomen.

She had no time to dodge. She could only shield her belly with her hands, taking the scalding oil on their backs.

The oil seared her skin, raising angry, blood-filled blisters. Donna’s scream of pain went ignored.

Warm laughter and cheerful chatter seeped through the kitchen door crack. She could even see Roger feeding Nancy spoonfuls of truffle soup.

Nancy sat at the center, smiling sweetly at her, mouthing a silent word:

*"Serves you right."*

She was getting revenge for that slap.

Sweat blurred Donna’s vision. *I can’t collapse. I have to hold on until the day I leave. Only then can I protect the child in my womb.*

The meal was served. Nancy took one bite and immediately spat it out, her voice trembling with accusation. "I know Sister-in-law doesn't like me, but how could you harm the baby? I'm allergic to eggs."

But the kitchen had contained only eggs.

Clutching her stomach, tears welling in her eyes, Nancy whimpered, "Roger, my stomach hurts so much..."

Roger shot to his feet, scooped Nancy into his arms, and rushed for the door. "Get the hospital director to prepare a room—now!"

Donna opened her mouth to explain, but Christine grabbed her blistered hand and flung her to the floor.

"Donna! Was the lesson earlier not enough? What on earth are you trying to do!"

As the first slap landed, the priest’s chant for the dead began to echo in Donna’s ears.

Her cheeks swelled from the blows; the hard beads of Christine’s bracelet cut into her skin with each slap. The metallic taste of blood flooded her senses.

Clutching her abdomen, staking her last shred of hope, Donna choked out, "Roger…"

Roger’s steps faltered. He didn’t turn back. His voice was ice.

"Donna, this time, you’ve gone too far."

The final note of the death chant faded. The last slap fell with brutal force.