My Husband Gifted Me A Silk Dress That Nearly Killed His Sister. He Blamed Me For Her “Allergy,” But I Found Drugs In Her Tea. What Is He Trying To Hide?

Matthew nodded, avoiding my gaze. “My parents had to use a lot of money and connections to fix it.” “They gave the victim’s family a large sum of money and somehow the case was closed without finding the culprit.” “But for Clara, the shock was too great. From that day on, she has lived tormented by guilt and fear.” “She has nightmares every night and her health keeps deteriorating. That’s the reason she has to live with so much special care.” “Her illness isn’t an allergy; it’s an illness of the soul.”

Hearing the story, I felt silent. A part of me felt pity for Clara, a girl who had to endure such a great tragedy at such a young age.

But another part of me felt a growing unease. Matthew’s story seemed logical; it explained why Clara behaved so strangely.

But if that was all, why did my mother-in-law have to secretly give her that strange herbal tea everyday? If it was just psychological trauma, why did they have to lock her in a room with bars on the windows?

And most importantly, what did all this have to do with the jade green dress? Why could a simple dress make Clara so gravely ill to the point of nearly dying and make Matthew scream that I had killed his sister?

I looked at Matthew. My gaze was no longer one of fear like in the early days, but of scrutiny, of analysis.

I knew the story he had just told was not the whole truth. It was just the tip of a gigantic iceberg.

I took a deep breath, trying to keep my voice calm. “And what about the dress?” “What about that jade green dress? Why could it put Clara in that state?”

Matthew was silent for a long time. He ran a hand through his already disheveled hair, his face etched with deep anguish.

It seemed that having to remember this was a torture for him. Finally he spoke, his voice distant as if coming from a painful memory. “Why? Because on the day of the accident, the girl Lucy was wearing a dress exactly like it.”

My body went cold. It was a chilling coincidence.

I could imagine the scene: a rainy afternoon, a young woman in a jade green dress pedalling down the road, and then a car hurtling towards her. It was all horrible.

Matthew continued, his voice trembling as if he himself were reliving that terrifying moment. “After Lucy’s death, her family came to our house to cause a scene.” “They didn’t believe it was a simple accident. They didn’t accept the compensation.” “Lucy’s mother, in her immense grief over losing her daughter, stood in front of our gate and cursed us.”

“She said that if her daughter had died unjustly in that green dress, the daughter of this house would have to live her whole life tormented by it.” “She cursed Clara, saying that every time she saw or wore a dress of a similar color and style, her daughter’s spirit would return to claim her life and the tragedy would repeat itself.” “She would have to live in fear, in remorse, for the rest of her life.”

I held my breath as I listened. A curse.

A curse uttered by a mother who had lost her child. It sounded irrational, superstitious.

But for Clara in that moment—a terrified, guilt-ridden girl—it was no different from a death sentence hanging over her head.

Matthew sighed. “At first, my parents didn’t believe it either.” “They thought it was just words spoken in a moment of anger.” “But then strange things started to happen.”

“Once, a relative who knew nothing about the story gave Clara a nightgown, also jade green.” “That night the girl had convulsions and screamed that she saw Lucy coming back, covered in blood, standing at the foot of her bed staring at her.” “Since then the whole family has been terrified. Anything jade green is forbidden in this house.” “And Clara—she believes the curse is real. For her, that dress is no longer a piece of clothing; it’s the embodiment of guilt, of death.”

Hearing this, I began to understand. I understood Clara’s reaction, the panic of my mother-in-law and Matthew when they saw me in that dress.

In their eyes, I wasn’t wearing a gift, but a deadly curse. I was awakening the demon in Clara’s soul.

But then another question—a cold question—pierced my mind. I looked directly into Matthew’s eyes. My voice no longer trembled; it was strangely sharp. “Then why did you buy it?” “You knew perfectly well it was a forbidden object. You knew it would hurt Clara.” “Why did you deliberately buy it and send it to me as a gift?”

My question was like a knife that hit the bullseye of Matthew’s heart. He flinched, his gaze evasive, stammering. “I… I just…”

I pressed, taking another step forward. “You wanted to test it, didn’t you?” “You wanted to see if the curse was real, to see if after almost ten years it still had an effect.” “And you didn’t hesitate to use your own wife, the woman who sleeps with you, as a guinea pig for that cruel test, did you?”

Matthew hung his head. His shoulders trembled.

His silence was the most painful confession. I started to laugh, a bitter, sarcastic laugh.

My tears flowed not from self-pity, but from rage. I understood everything.

I understood why he had screamed, “You’ve killed my sister.” It wasn’t because he feared for Clara’s life, but because he was scared.

He was scared because his test had been a terrible success. He was scared because he himself had pushed his sister into a panic, and scared because his true face had been exposed.

I backed away, looking at the man huddled before me, the husband I once loved and trusted. It turned out that behind that kind and gentle facade hid a terrifying selfishness and cruelty.

He loved his sister, but that love was so twisted that he was willing to sacrifice his own wife to satisfy a wicked curiosity. Matthew looked up, his voice choked. “I’m sorry, Sophia.” “I didn’t mean for it to happen. I just thought it had been a long time, that it was all in the past. I didn’t expect it to be so serious.”

I laughed with contempt. “You didn’t expect? Or you deliberately chose not to think about the consequences?” “In your eyes I was just a pawn, a tool for you to test an absurd curse, wasn’t I?”

I turned away, not wanting to hear another word. The story he told might explain everything, but at the same time it killed everything that remained in me for this marriage: the love, the trust. It was all shattered.

But as I went into my room and slammed the door, another sense of unease took hold of me. Everything seemed to fit, but why did I still feel that something was wrong?

If it was simply a psychological curse, why did Clara’s reaction resemble a real illness with convulsions and foaming at the mouth? And the unknown man who called me—why did he speak of punishment?

“Punishment” is a word that sounds much heavier and more legal than a simple curse. Was it possible that the story Matthew had just told was still not the whole truth?

A Father’s Decadelong Search

The bedroom door slammed shut behind me, but it couldn’t stop Matthew’s words from drilling into my mind, as cruel as they were absurd. I collapsed onto the edge of the bed, trembling from head to toe as tears streamed down my cheeks.

But this time they weren’t tears of frustration or self-pity, but of a complete breakdown. The man to whom I had once given my heart, whom I had always trusted despite enduring so much bitterness from my mother-in-law, turned out to be capable of using me as a test subject for a wicked experiment.