To Save the Killer, He Sacrificed His Dad

Richard told me to send over my father-in-law’s photo so they could restore the features as quickly as possible.

I didn’t hesitate and sent George’s photo straight to the Funeral Home.

As the staff were lifting the body onto the vehicle, a piece of metal clinked to the floor.

Following the sound, Richard’s eyes went wide with rage.

“Olivia! Have you no shame? How dare you steal my dad’s medal?”

He snatched up the Military Medal, veins bulging at his temples.

I ignored him, took the medal back, and handed it to the funeral staff, instructing them to pin it to George’s chest once his appearance was restored.

Furious, Richard slapped me across the face with his injured hand.

“Bitch! My dad treated you well, and you steal his most precious thing to give to your short-lived old man?”

“Who do you think your dad is, that he deserves to wear this?”

My cheeks burned hot and swelled; my speech came out slurred.

“The man who died is your dad. Why wouldn’t he deserve it?”

Richard didn’t—or wouldn’t—understand.

“Bullshit! Just because I call him ‘Dad’ doesn’t put him on the same level as my father!”

He wrested the medal away and, still seething, had Legal draw up divorce papers on the spot.

“Olivia, sign it! I don’t want anything more to do with a woman like you.”

“And don’t think you can run crying to my father—I’ll have him sent overseas so you can’t bother him!”

The sting on my face was nothing next to the pain in my chest.

He wanted me to walk away with nothing.

I refused. He cheated first, and he betrayed all the support my family had given him—why should I leave penniless?

Just then, the Hospital called.

“Mr. Johnson, when is your father coming back for treatment? He’s missed his window, and he’s not answering his phone.”

Richard froze, then seemed to realize something.

“What do you mean? Hasn’t my father been inpatient this whole time?”

When the nurse said George had left with me, Richard hurled his phone at the wall.

“Well played, Olivia—so calculating! I’m warning you: once my father sees your true colors, he won’t be fooled by a woman like you!”

He reached for his phone to call George.

But the fire had already burned the phone dead.

Unable to get through, Richard looked ready to strangle me.

“Where did you take my father? He’s ill—why are you doing this to him?”

In his mind, because my own father had died, I must have “kidnapped” his father to extort him.

“Olivia, what will it take for you to let my dad go?”

Watching this “devoted son” grit his teeth, I answered coolly:

“The divorce papers. You leave with nothing.”

Richard blinked, then roared:

“I knew it! You want me stripped bare? Won’t you choke on that?”

I didn’t ask for his precious company shares—only the real estate and liquid assets that should already be mine.

Seeing I wasn’t taking equity, he hurried to sign.

“You can have what you want. Now where is my father?”

I nodded.

He pressed, “Where is he?”

I tucked the divorce papers away and slowly pointed to George’s body.

“Right there.”

Veins jumped in Richard’s forehead; he lunged at me with fists and feet.

As I coughed blood again under the blows, the receptionist, Lucy, rushed in and pulled him off me.

“Mr. Johnson, Mrs. Johnson’s father never incited those families. They came to help you, sincerely. I—and the cleaning staff—saw with our own eyes that it was Assistant Bella who spoke to the families…”