3 Days Married, My Husband’s Body Was Torn

I stared at the silver handcuffs locked around my wrists, completely stunned. Officer Langford's eyes were icy. "The first two dropped dead, fine, coincidence. But the third hacked to pieces? That's a coincidence too? You want me to shove the surveillance footage right in your face?" I shot him a cold laugh. "Officer Langford, you can't c***k the case, so you're pinning it on me, miles away from the crime scene?" I was trembling with rage, my gaze nailed to him. He slammed a few printed surveillance screenshots onto the small hospital table, the paper skidding across the surface with a harsh, grating screech. I lowered my head. The night-vision mode bathed everything in a sickly, ghostly green glow, but the scene was crystal clear. A woman in a red silk nightgown, right there in my own home, wielding a boning knife. s***h after vicious s***h, she hacked at the man, Arthur, on the sofa. That red nightgown was the one I bought the day we got our marriage license. The woman's build, her hairstyle, even the tiny mole on the back of her neck, everything matched me perfectly. But I knew it wasn't me. Because the woman in the photo was gripping the knife with her right hand. And I'm a natural lefty. I didn't say a word. I just clutched my fractured ribs and sucked in a sharp, searing breath of agony. "Stella, drop the innocent act. You're the murderer." Officer Langford pulled out the silver cuffs and snapped them around my right wrist. The cold metal bit into my skin, sending a shiver through me. A voice so gentle it was sickening, floated from the doorway. "Officer Langford, please be gentle. Stella still has injuries." It was my mother-in-law, Linnea. She stepped inside, eyes glistening with tears, dressed in a modest gown patterned with faint floral motifs. She came to the bedside and stroked my pale cheek with a pitying touch. Those calloused hands were ice-cold. "I know Arthur has a quick temper. He wronged you." She sighed, her voice as soft as if she were soothing a child just waking up. "But that doesn't mean you can hack him to pieces over a little shove." I stared at her, utterly dumbfounded. "A little shove? "He stomped on my chest and snapped three of my ribs." Linnea gazed at me with pity, as if I were a raving lunatic. "Stella, have you forgotten to take your medicine again?" She turned to Officer Langford, her tone dripping with sincerity. "Officer Langford, Stella suffers from severe paranoid delusions. "Those injuries, she did that to herself, ramming a chair into herself during an episode." "You're lying through your teeth!" I thrashed wildly, the handcuffs clanging against the metal bed rail with a piercing screech. "See? She's having another episode." Linnea laid a gentle hand on my shoulder, but the pressure was savage, aimed right at the fractured third rib. A searing, bone-deep agony exploded through my body. Cold sweat erupted on my skin, my mouth gaped open in a silent scream, but no sound came out. She watched my face contort in pain, and a faint, almost imperceptible smirk played at the corner of her lips. "Stella, be a good girl. Go with the police officers. I will find you the best psychiatrist." The door swung open again, and my younger brother, Mike, stepped inside. "Mike!" I gasped, clinging to him like a drowning woman. "Tell them how Arthur beat me!" But he averted his gaze, pulling a thick medical file from his bag and handing it to Officer Langford with both hands. "Officer Langford, Stella really does have a mental illness. These are her psychiatric records from the hospital a few years back." I stared at him, my eyes locking onto his wrist. A brand-new Rolex Submariner gleamed there, the very same watch I'd seen on Arthur's nightstand just two days ago. "Mike, have you lost your mind?" I gritted my teeth, my voice trembling with rage. He kept his head down, his voice soft but clear as a bell. "Stella, just confess. Arthur was always so good to you, always doing charity work. If you take his life, shame will fall on our entire family." I stared at the three of them. Officer Langford's icy resolve. Linnea's cloying sweetness. Mike's naked greed. They wove an airtight net that snared me without mercy. The whole world was out to prove I was insane. The whole world was out to prove I was a murderer. I stopped struggling. The searing ache in my ribs kept my mind razor-sharp. I drew a long, steady breath and fixed my gaze on Linnea. "Linnea, is Arthur really dead?" I whispered. A flicker of panic, barely a flash, flickered in her eyes, then she smothered it beneath a mask of grief. "Stella, have you forgotten what you did?" She plucked a tissue from the box. Dabbed at the corners of her eyes, eyes that held no tears at all. "Take her away." Officer Langford gave a flat, dismissive wave. Two officers stepped forward and hauled me up from the hospital bed. I didn't resist. But as I passed Linnea, I caught the faint scent of herbal tea clinging to her. It was roasted dandelion root. Arthur drank that special tea every single day. And Linnea never touched the stuff. I lowered my lashes, burying the coldness deep in my eyes.