My husband’s Million-Dollar Murder Plot - Chapter 8

Chapter 8

I drove to the cemetery where my sister was buried, my heart heavy with grief and rage. Standing before her headstone, the kind smile etched into the stone brought tears to my eyes.

Dropping to my knees, I wept uncontrollably.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered through the sobs. “I’m so sorry I let those monsters near you!”

Memories of my sister flooded my mind–her warmth, her strength, her unwavering love for me. The loss felt as raw as the day I first learned of her death.

My phone buzzed, breaking me from my thoughts. It was my lawyer.

“Lillian, I have news. Victor has testified against Ruby Monroe in connection with your sister’s death five years ago. With the evidence he provided, Ruby has confessed. She admitted to orchestrating everything. Justice is finally within reach.”

I wiped my tears, gratitude mingling with sorrow.

“Thank you,” I said softly. “For everything. I’ll fight for my sister and live the life she couldn’t.”

Samuel, my boss, granted me an extended leave of absence upon hearing the news.

“We’re all here for you,” he said kindly. “Whatever you need, just let us know.”

On the day of the trial, I carried a photo of my sister into the courtroom. Ruby, seated at the defendant’s table, visibly tensed when she saw it. She spent the rest of the trial with her head bowed, avoiding my gaze.

The proceedings went smoothly.

Victor received three years for his crimes, while Ruby was sentenced to life in prison for premeditated murder. When the verdict was read, I left the courtroom without looking back.

Three years later, I had rebuilt my life in a new city. I thrived in my career and had found companionship in Elliot Hayes, a kind, thoughtful man who shared my love of intellectual conversations and ambitious projects.

We were on the cusp of marriage, both certain that we’d found the person meant for us. But on the night before our engagement party, I returned home to find the lights on.

Confused, 1 stepped inside, only to freeze in my tracks. Victor emerged from the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist.

“Darling,” he said with a smirk, “welcome home.”

He took a step toward me as though nothing had happened. I backed away, my heart racing, as I pulled out my phone.

“Get dressed and get out,” I said through clenched teeth. “Or I’m calling the police.”

Victor hesitated but complied, quickly throwing on his clothes.

“I heard you’re getting married,” he sneered. “I told you to wait for me. What, you couldn’t keep your legs closed long enough for me to get out of prison?”