4:57 AM: The revenge of the dead wife

**Vanessa’s POV** “Did you cut the brakes perfectly?” My husband's voice sounded different when he was planning my murder. “Ethan, I'd spent one week watching YouTube videos on how to cut car brakes…so relax, hm!" That last one was more than an assurance. “By morning, no piece of Vanessa will be found, and of course! No one will come for us. It will be an accident,” Ariana’s voice dripped with satisfaction from the tape. “What?” I heard myself exclaim. I tried to hold the steering wheel tighter, but my hands betrayed me; my fingers kept trembling badly on the steering wheel. “Ann…and then,” Ariana continued. “All that belongs to her becomes ours. She really was blinded by love not to see our moves and think her money can separate us. Seriously, I…” “Just two days ago, she signed one of her late father's estates with my name,” Ethan cut in. “That wife of yours…so vulnerable,” Ariana’s voice was filled with mockery. “Okay…we can go now before someone finds us here,” Ethan replied to her. What seemed like a muffled sound was emitting from the tape,they were hugging each other. Then I heard footsteps, and a door clicked shut. The tape didn't make further sounds afterward. My husband and Ariana had gone into my late grandmother's room to make their plan. Everyone in Logan's mansion believed that the room was long forgotten. The last time I was there was with Cici, my four-year-old daughter, for documents she had turned it into while playing with them. I took it this morning for records of a business meeting by Grandma. But instead, I got this… That was the voice of the man I had trusted for five years. My blood ran cold through my veins,My vision blurred,tears stood in my eyes; I could barely see through the car windshield. I refused to blink. I thought of calling the emergency number for help, but my phone fell from my shaking hands. I thought of jumping out of the car; that might end with me regretting it. The memories of my late parents and my grandma flooded in; was I going to join them soon? I thought of Cici, my little daughter, the only reason why I had to fight for my life. I brushed off my tears with my left hand, the right hand still on the steering wheel. I pressed my legs harder on my car brake. Now with both hands on the steering wheel, I moved it to my left toward a public car park. But no, whatever they did to my brakes was well done. My car kept moving at great speed and out of my control. “No!” a raw, terrified sound tore through my throat, but it wasn't just my voice. An impending blue BMW,a scream from a lady overspeeding in my direction. Was someone after her? I couldn't tell. Not at all. Our vehicles collided:her car tumbled toward the left; mine somersaulted thrice and landed on the right side of the road… *** Feet were trotting in and out of the hospital ward. I forced my eyes to open, but it hurt badly. “It's critical…they both had severe injuries,” the speaker stepped closer. “It might take time for them to regain consciousness. Once they do, they may have to undergo surgery to replace the damaged parts.” They stepped closer to where I lay. I couldn't distinguish between the figures I was looking at. As I struggled between waking up and unconsciousness, the images were so blurred. All in white. “Hi, how do you feel? I am Dr. Kelvin, and by the way, these are my colleagues,” a man in white with his hands fixed in his pockets smiled at me. I couldn't say a word. I tried to move my eyes, but it hurt. The rhythm of the monitor connected to the lady whose bed was beside mine changed its beeping. “Great news,” Dr. Kelvin moved to her and bent toward her. “Mia! Honey, we will get your leg done, and you will be fine. In less than one hour, we will have no choice but to amputate your legs.” Her widened eyes locked onto his, terrified, but she never said a word. Mia, that was the lady my vehicle collided with. They must have gone through her car documents to identify her. I looked at Mia,her nose well-aligned with her face. She was down to earth, so pretty. I tried to touch my face, and what I observed was like horror… My face was filled with jagged injuries. Is that why it hurt so badly? “My face, oh my God… can I…” “We are in search of a face donor for you, but if we can't find one, that will be dangerous,” Dr. Kelvin cut in. “My legs will be amputated.” Her soft, tiny voice was finally heard. “If I don't survive it, I will be her face donor. I—I can't face my home,” Mia's lips curved downward, her eyeballs steady on me. “What are you talking about?” I was still looking at her. “I failed them,” she pulled her face away from mine. Maybe she never wanted to talk about it. “Any family?” one of the nurses asked Mia. “Yeah, a husband, a mother, and a sister, but this is my decision,” the last part sounded like a reminder. “Any family? A husband, a sister, or…” “Just a four-year-old daughter,” I replied to the nurse; the lie slid out easily. “Okay then, we will get ready,” Dr. Kelvin's voice cut through the air before they left the ward. Twelve minutes later. We were both taken into separate wards where we were being interrogated about our personal lives. Then we met again in the theater. They were a team of doctors performing the surgery on us. *** The magnesium light on the ceiling of the hospital ward pressed against my lashes. I lifted it gently; standing before me was Dr. Kelvin. “Hi, good morning…” “Where is she?” I stepped aside from the polite greetings. “She didn't survive it, but… then she gave you something that wasn't damaged—her face.” “I want my face back!” “They had jagged and severe injuries, honey! This is what we can do.” He took off his stethoscope from his neck and sat beside me. “This is the most successful face transplant I have ever seen in my lifetime, so perfect like it was all yours.” “Did she leave any words?” My eyes were watery. “No! No… Don't do that, girl; your muscles and vessels are still adapting.” I gripped my blanket tightly with my right hand; I wanted to press my lips in, but it hurt. Or should I say I wanted to press Mia's lips. “Listen, a man came here some hours ago; he claimed that his wife was involved in the accident. Because you said you had no husband, he also identified Mia's body as his wife…” He looked at the IV bag connected to my left arm and nodded like someone whose inspection was correct before drifting his glance to me again and continuing. “Mia's body was released to him, and besides, no identification card of yours was found—just a damaged tape and phone still in police custody.” “I am Vanessa Logan,” I replied to him. “That's him, Mia's husband,” he pointed at the transparent hospital glass door. I looked through it. That was Ethan, wearing a red T-shirt I bought for him on his thirtieth birthday. He was dabbing his watery eyes with a lint-free handkerchief. Standing next to him was Ariana, dressed in a pink skinny gown, doing what seemed like a movie scene;she was consoling him. It took Ariana one week to learn how to cut brakes; how long did it take Ethan to learn this deceit act? I scanned the ward; it was just Dr. Kelvin and me. “That's my husband.” “What?” My words cut him like ice; his pupils dilated. “I thought you said…” “I lied,” I cut in. “He did this to me; that's his mistress beside him. He married me for my wealth; he used me.” Dr. Kelvin was just moping at me, still in shock. “Please, don't tell anyone about this!” I gripped the long sleeve of his lab coat. He nodded, speechless. “While they mourn the woman they believe is dead, I'll return wearing another woman's face—a face they will never recognize.”