I Faked An Injury To Escape My Abusive Billionaire Husband. But The Er Doctor Just Revealed A Dark Secret About My Husband’s First Wife. How Do I Go Back To That House Now?
Rebecca’s Riddle
This new task felt much heavier than just pretending to be sick. I had to become a detective in the villain’s lair.
“What? What should I look for doctor? That house is enormous,” I asked in despair.
Dr. Miles thought for a moment. “Rebecca loved to write. She kept a diary, wrote letters, wrote anything. And she had a strange habit. She liked to hide valuable things in places that are most often seen but never noticed. A place that’s bright but dark.”,
“Bright but dark?” I repeated confused. “What kind of riddle is that?”
“I don’t fully understand it myself Mrs. Davenport. Those were her last words to me on the phone: ‘Brother, if I’m gone, look in the place that is brightest but also darkest to Preston.'”
Doctor Miles glanced at his watch. “Our time is up. We have to go back upstairs before Preston gets suspicious. Remember Mrs. Davenport, your main mission when you go home is to find what Rebecca left behind. It’s the only key to putting Preston in prison for life.”
The journey back to my room felt completely different. I had gone down as a frightened victim. Now I was returning as a secret agent on a mission. My heart pounded not with fear but with adrenaline.
When the elevator doors opened on the fifth floor I saw Preston standing in front of my room impatiently tapping his foot. His face was sour. The moment he saw us he pounced.
“That took forever. You said an hour. It’s been almost two. What were you two doing down there?”
“The queue was long sir. There was an emergency trauma case from an accident,” Dr. Miles replied calmly without batting an eye.
Preston grunted then looked at me suspiciously, his eyes scanning my face as if searching for signs of betrayal.
“You didn’t say anything you shouldn’t have down there did you?” he whispered sharply as the nurses transferred me back to the bed.
I shook my head weakly putting on an innocent clueless expression. “What would I say Preston? I was asleep the whole time. It was so dizzying.”
Preston stared at me for a long moment then finally sighed in relief. He had no idea that behind this clueless wife’s face was a brain plotting the complete destruction of his perfect life. The cold war between us had just escalated.
The afternoon sun had not yet set but the atmosphere in the hospital room was already as gloomy as a stormy sky. As promised—or more accurately threatened—by Preston that morning, his VIP guest had indeed arrived,.
His name was Mr. Harington, a business associate with a protruding belly and a laugh so boisterous it made the window panes vibrate. He came bearing a fruit basket of absurd proportions filled with imported fruits that probably cost as much as a factory worker’s monthly salary.
Preston greeted him with a sickeningly obsequious style. He bowed respectfully, shook his hand firmly, and plastered the friendliest smile in the world on his face. The mask of the devoted husband and successful businessman was perfectly attached without a single crack.
“Oh Mrs. Davenport, I hope you get well soon. I was so shocked to hear you had a fall. You’re lucky to have such a vigilant husband like Mr. Davenport here.” Mr. Harrington said innocently.
I could only manage a thin fake smile that felt stiff on my cheeks. I wanted to throw up hearing that praise. If only Mr. Harrington knew that this “vigilant husband” was the reason I was here.
He probably would have choked on a grape seed. Preston immediately chimed in with a feigned humility.
“Oh it’s nothing sir. She’s my beloved wife after all. I can’t bear to see her with even a little scratch. That’s why I requested the best room so my wife can rest peacefully. The money doesn’t matter as long as my wife is healthy.” He said this while gently stroking my head, the same hand that had dragged me across the floor yesterday. He was truly a world-class actor.
After Mr. Harrington left, the smile vanished from Preston’s face faster than money from a wallet at the end of the month. He immediately sank into the sofa, loosened his tie aggressively, and exhaled a long breath as if he had just finished a heavy workout.
“All that small talk is exhausting,” he grumbled.
He looked at me sharply. “You did well today not talking too much. That’s how a prominent man’s wife should be. Graceful and obedient. Don’t embarrass your husband.”
I just stayed silent staring at the ceiling. In my mind I noted another reason why I had to put this man behind bars. He treated his wife as just another accessory for his career like a flower vase or a wall painting,.
Suddenly Preston shot up and began pacing the room as restless as a worm on a hot plate.
“I don’t like this place,” he said abruptly breaking the silence. “The air is stale. The nurses come in too often. And that doctor, his eyes are strange.”
He stopped pacing and looked at me. My gut immediately clenched. My survival instincts flared red. A paranoid Preston was the most dangerous Preston.
He felt threatened. And when he felt threatened he would seize control by force.
“We’re going home tomorrow morning,” he decided unilaterally.
My heart nearly leaped out of my chest. “But Preston, Dr. Miles said I need to be here for 3 days. My head still spins when I get up,” I argued trying to sound weak and pitiful.
Dr. Miles’s plan would be ruined if I went home tomorrow. I needed more time here to strategize or at least to enjoy a moment of life without fear.
“To hell with that doctor,” Preston hissed. “He’s a know-it-all. I saw the way he looked at me. He has no respect. I don’t want you being treated by someone with a personal vendetta. Tomorrow morning I’ll handle the paperwork. We’re going home. Period.”
