I walked into the bedroom with a smile, only for my heart to sink as the bouquet slipped from my grasp, roses shedding petals in my sudden dismay.
Grace wasn’t there.
The room was empty, except for the TV blaring in the background.
Where could she have gone, especially in such a snowstorm? Concern gnawed at me. She was not confident behind the wheel. A frantic thought struck me. I needed to check if the car was still in the garage.
Just as I turned to leave the bedroom, an urgent news broadcast caught my attention.
A foreign car had skidded off the city bridge, driven by an inexperienced driver.
My heart raced.
Could it be Grace?
I had even transferred money to her card earlier for a new dress. Without a second thought, I dashed to my car and sped toward the bridge.
The roads were treacherous, and my car slid dangerously on turns, but I managed to keep control, relying on my years of driving experience.
Grace, however, had only recently started driving. Why had I encouraged her to drive today of all days?
With the bridge just two miles away, my car slid once more. I slammed on the brakes, but they failed.
Inexplicable.
Faced with a life-threatening decision, swerve and potentially roll the car, or crash head-on into another parked vehicle, I chose to swerve.
My car rolled several times before crashing into a tree. The last thing I remember was the sharp smell of gasoline, hinting at the imminent danger of a fire.
Now here I lay in the hospital, surrounded by the constant beeping of life-support machines, haunted by the realization that the girl from the news wasn’t Grace, but someone else.
My thoughts were a whirlwind of confusion and betrayal.
Grace had been seeing someone else all this time. Someone she valued more than anything.
And then there was the matter of the will. She had convinced me to draft it just a few months ago. At the time, it seemed insignificant, but now every detail took on a sinister hue.
As these thoughts tormented me, I made a decision to feign being in a coma, keeping my eyes tightly shut whenever Grace was near.
I could feel her gaze on me, cold and calculating. Her fingers itching to end my life by simply pressing a few buttons on the machines that kept me alive.
The danger felt palpable, as if death were breathing down my neck.
Just then, footsteps echoed in the corridor, causing Grace to retreat quickly. Dr. Merritt entered the room shortly after, discussing my case with a nurse.
“It’s just mind-boggling. She’s ready to bury him alive. You know why marry such vipers?” he commented.
Dr. Merritt approached my bed, noting aloud that some sensors seemed to be disabled.
“Probably a malfunction. We’ll need a specialist to check this. Though it usually takes time for a patient to come out of a coma, I’m sure he’ll survive against all odds. A miracle in such cases is quite possible,” he said optimistically.
The nurse Erica stayed behind to check the sensors. As she fiddled with them, I whispered quietly for water.
Startled, she jumped slightly, then quickly regained her composure.
“So you’ve woken up. Why didn’t you signal?” she asked.
Gathering what little strength I had left, I pleaded, “Please don’t tell anyone I’ve regained consciousness. Let it be our secret, at least for today.”
Although puzzled by my request, considering my wife’s strange behavior, Erica agreed to keep my secret.
“All right, I’ll do everything I can. But you still can’t drink. The most I can do is moisten your lips,” she whispered, touching a wet piece of cotton to my lips.
The relief, though minimal, was immensely comforting. As Erica set up an IV drip to nourish my body, tears of gratitude welled up in my eyes.
Her kindness in such a dire situation reinforced my resolve.
They won’t get my will and inheritance. I will recover and ensure Grace doesn’t get a penny in the divorce, I thought determinedly, swallowing the bitter lump in my throat.
With that, I drifted into a restless sleep, while Erica reported back to Dr. Merritt, who silently acknowledged her actions, choosing to keep my progress a secret from Grace.
“If I were in her shoes, I’d be praying for my husband’s recovery. But this witch only thinks about her inheritance,” he remarked, thankful for Erica’s vigilance.
Meanwhile, Grace had taken control of the restaurant, imposing her will with a fiery determination that left everyone under her gaze feeling small and insignificant.
Her aggressive approach was a stark contrast to my more compassionate style, and it wasn’t long before she began making drastic changes, including planning to install hidden surveillance cameras to monitor everyone’s every move.
Unaware of my gradual recovery, she continued her tyrannical rule, believing she had the upper hand. But I was determined to fight back, for my own sake and for the good of those who depended on me.
“She only has two of her own and two more from her husband’s first marriage,” the administrator added obligingly.
“They’re all mine. And as for what my husband left, let it remain on his conscience. He’s in prison now, caught stealing. He thought the kids would help him reduce his sentence, but I managed to get his rights reversed,” Emma muttered through tears.
But Grace remained unmoved. Honestly, what Grace needed right now was a scapegoat to show her power to everyone else, and Emma, who had the misfortune of being caught in the crossfire, became just that.
“So how about you, Fischer? Well, you’re fired. You can go wherever you want,” Grace concluded, gesturing toward the door.
Despair froze in my eyes.
But how could this be? Could she really dismiss me like some unwanted stray dog?
The administrator didn’t want to stay on the sidelines and contributed his two cents to the matter.
“Oh, and I almost forgot, Fischer. Don’t count on your salary. You understand, right? The money will go toward compensating the damages.”
The news was a devastating blow. Realizing that I had been deceived by everyone, I went outside and exposed my heated cheeks to the freezing wind.
Seeing this, Henry couldn’t help himself and approached.
“Oh dear, don’t cry. Don’t torment yourself, sunshine. You know Andrew is in favor right now. That’s why he’s doing whatever he pleases. And when Mr. Williams recovers, his reign will come to an end. And so that you don’t end up completely without money, I’ll allocate some from my pension for you. You can repay it whenever you can. No rush,” said the janitor, embracing me by the shoulders.
“Thank you, Henry, for your support and protection. You see, I was counting so much on this money, and then this happened. We’re struggling with the kids in a rented apartment, and the landlord keeps raising the rent, saying, ‘You receive child benefits, so you won’t become poor,’” I replied, choking back tears.
The elderly man shook his head, feeling sorry for me.
To say the least, such a good colleague. Calm, diligent, never speaks ill of anyone. I wash dishes up to my elbows in hot water, and that’s it. And this Andrew, the administrator, is a first-rate troublemaker.