My Husband Wants To Kill Me

Chapter 3 A Five-Year Deception

Was it all about my family's money from the start?

Did Eddy approach me five years ago with dollar signs in his eyes, knowing full well how much he'd inherit if I were to die?

My hands shook as I held his phone, carefully pushing the bedroom door open to return it to its place.

The moonlight streaming through the window cast shadows across his sleeping form. My chest heaved with suppressed rage—I wanted to grab a knife and end him right there to avenge my unborn child!

But he was so tall. Where would I strike to be lethal?

His chest?

No, that would be too risky. If I missed his heart, I'd only benefit this scoundrel.

The carotid artery would be better! I found myself unwittingly miming the motion.

'No! Murder is a crime, and I'd end up in prison, leaving my wealth in unknown hands.'

'Calm down! Take a deep breath,' I said to myself.

I shuffled my numb legs back to my side of the bed, lying down while repeatedly persuading myself to calm down. I forced myself not to look at the repulsive man next to me, trying to process the overwhelming flood of information from the night.

I couldn't sacrifice myself to punish him, but they must pay a price!

I resolved to start gathering evidence the next day—evidence of his schemes against me and the death of my child.

I would divorce him and see them both in prison!

*****

But first, let me introduce myself properly, as I was the direct motive behind Eddy's murderous intent.

I was born in Los Angeles.

My father had returned young to inherit my grandfather's extensive glass manufacturing business.

After several uninspiring years in manufacturing, he found its future unpromising and stumbled into real estate, using the factory land as his starting capital. As Los Angeles rapidly ascended as a commercial powerhouse on the West Coast, the value of that land soared.

By the time I was born, the factory warehouses had been mostly demolished. When I was three, a skyscraper sprang up in their place. The first five floors housed Marriot Plaza, the largest shopping center in Los Angeles at the time, topped by Plaza Hotel apartments. Because I was the landlord's daughter, I grew up with the nickname "Plaza Princess."

Atop the Plaza Hotel, in a sprawling penthouse overlooking half of Los Angeles, was where I now lived with Eddy.

My death wouldn't just touch my investments and cash; this apartment alone would elevate him to the ranks of Los Angeles' elite.

The thought that the gift from my parents could one day belong to that deceitful pair filled me with heart-wrenching pain.

*****

I met Eddy at New York University, where I studied art and he studied finance.

New York, a melting pot of wealth from across the U.S., was a stark contrast to my humble origins.

Five years ago, Eddy worked at a café near our school.

When my friend Sally invited me to go there together, I didn't care much about it. The café was far from our campus, and the coffee was mediocre at best.

But Sally said excitedly, "You wouldn't believe it! Every time he hands me a coffee, I just want to rip his shirt off and see if his abs are as sculpted as his jawline!"

I rolled my eyes. "I never knew you could climax by having coffee."

Yet, when I met Eddy, I had to admit that those wildest fantasies fluttered through my own mind too.

Soon, that café became our version of Central Park Café, a daily hangout spot, and Eddy was always there, seemingly always working.

Curiosity got the better of me one day. Why was he, almost a graduate, always there every time I visited? Wasn't he buried in thesis work or early job starts?

Then Sally pointed out something odd one day, staring at her cup. "Why is your latte art always a heart while mine is a Christmas tree?"

I glanced at her cup where the foam had already dissolved. "Really? I thought a heart was standard."

Her eyes widened, and so was her mouth, as if she'd stumbled upon a secret.

"Every time? Are you sure? I've never gotten a heart. That's not the standard."

She leaned in, grinning conspiratorially. "Could it be a special sign for you? Maybe he's sending you a message!"

I scoffed.

"A sign? Why so secretive? Can't he just say whatever he has to say?"

Though I dismissed her, part of me fluttered with the notion. So, I took my cup and walked around the café, eventually stopping by the counter to chat with Eddy, casually observing him work.

After 20 minutes, four coffees, and not a single heart-shaped foam in sight for anyone else, I confronted him as a lull fell over the café.

"Do you like me?" I asked after finishing my coffee.

He looked startled, his ears turning a slight red. Looking up at me, he suddenly smiled and wiped a dab of foam from my lip.

"Was it that hard to notice?" he quipped.

*****

Yeah, so hard to notice, indeed... How could I fail to find out?

Standing in the darkness, I couldn't help but silently sneer in sorrow.

'How did I not see this five-year deception coming? How did I not see through you, you despicable, cunning murderer?!'