My Husband Planned A Romantic Anniversary Trip To The Blue Mountains. Then I Overheard Him At 3:10 Am Planning My “accidental” Death. How Do I Survive This Drive?

A House of Over 7,500 Square Feet

I woke up in the early hours to use the washroom and accidentally overheard my husband whispering messages to his mistress.

“Don’t worry darling, tomorrow this 7,500 ft house will be all yours,” he said.

At lunchtime, my mother-in-law received a call from the hospital. Her son had been in a car accident. My mother-in-law and father-in-law were frozen on the spot. If I had not heard it with my own ears, I probably would have believed to my dying day that my husband was a decent man.

But that night, in the deathly silence of our home—a house of over 7,500 square ft—I heard his voice.

“Don’t worry my love, I’ll make sure she dies. The house and all the money in the bank. As soon as I take care of her, it will all be for you,” who was saying that was my husband.

My name is Emily. I was 32 years old and worked as an accountant in a small firm in the city. My husband Liam, three years my senior, had his own company. His business was doing reasonably well. We had been married for five years and lived with his parents in a large, custom-built home in the suburbs of Toronto, complete with a spacious garden, a swimming pool, and a two-car garage.

Anyone looking at us from the outside would say I had hit the jackpot. I had married a successful man from a wealthy family. My father-in-law Arthur was a stern man of few words, but each one carried the weight of a hammer. My mother-in-law Eleanor was a petite woman, but her tongue was anything but, always complaining about the children.

In five years of marriage, the only thing that made me bow my head before her was the subject of children. We had no children. Eleanor would often hint,

“What kind of a woman are you? 5 years married and not a single child. At this rate, the family will have no heir. You should get that checked, Emily,” she said.

I could only clench my teeth, smile, and cry silently at night, hugging my pillow. I had tried countless treatments and visited one hospital after another, and the result was always the same: no problem observed. Of course, continue with the follow-up. I blamed myself entirely, not daring to think that the problem might not be with me.

In that house, the person I feared the most was my father-in-law. The one who exhausted me the most was my mother-in-law. And the one I trusted the most was my husband Liam, or so I thought.

That night, I was sleeping when thirst woke me. I reached my hand to the other side of the bed and found only a cold emptiness. The sheets on Liam’s side were smooth with no trace of warmth. I rubbed my eyes and looked at the glowing clock on the bedside table: 3:10 a.m.

The house was plunged into darkness. The only sound was the constant hum of the air conditioning. I pushed back the covers, slipped on my slippers, and went down to the kitchen for a glass of water.

The second-floor hallway was long and dark, with a yellowish nightlight in one corner casting a faint glow. As I passed Liam’s office, I saw a thin line of bluish light seeping from under the door. Was he still working? That was my first thought. His company had a big project lately, and he often complained of being tired. Seeing him stay up late, I could only tell him to rest and not to get sick.

I was about to raise my hand to knock on the door with the words ready on my lips,

“Honey, come down for some water and get some rest,” I thought.

But my hand never touched the doorknob when from inside his familiar deep voice resonated, but with a honeyed tone he had never used with me.

“Don’t worry my love, tomorrow it will all be sorted out. From tomorrow on, there will be no one standing in our way,” he said.

I stopped dead in my tracks, my hand frozen in midair. My love? Who was he calling my love? My heart pounded, and a chill ran down my spine to the nape of my neck. I swallowed hard, held my breath, and slowly pressed my ear to the cold wood of the door.

Liam’s voice came again, this time lower, with a hint of satisfaction.

“I have it all figured out. On that mountain pass on the way to the Blue Mountains, if it rains a little, the car will skid easily. The police will think it was an accident from losing control. No one will suspect a thing,” he said.

I felt my hands and feet go numb. The Blue Mountains, a mountain pass, an accident. Tomorrow was our fifth wedding anniversary. He had told me he was taking me to a luxury spa hotel in the mountains, a place overlooking the pine forests, to make up for the years of sadness over not having children.

I, happy to the point of tears, had packed coats and scarves and had even told my mother-in-law,

“Mom, we’re going away for a couple of days. Take care of yourselves and don’t forget to take your medicine,” I had said.

It turned out that anniversary celebration was actually my planned funeral. Inside, a woman’s voice came through the phone speaker, low but clear, with a touch of coquettishness.

“But what if she doesn’t die? I’m so scared, Liam. I don’t want to go to jail,” she said.

Liam chuckled. It was the same laugh he had until now only used in business meetings, but now it sounded incredibly sweet.

“You silly thing, I’ve checked everything. In that ravine, if the car goes over, it will be totaled. Impossible to survive. Once she’s dead, the 7,500 ft house and the millions of dollars in the account that are in my name, I’ll transfer it all to you. You just have to wait quietly to be my wife. You promised me, right? Don’t you dare trick me,” he said.

The woman on the other end of the phone giggled foolishly. Every word—the house, the millions, all for you—was like an ice knife piercing my heart. It turned out that to my husband, I was just “she.” The house I cleaned with such care, scrubbing every tile and tending to every plant, was just a number on a piece of paper. Five years as a daughter-in-law enduring scorn, only to end up as the target of a perfect plan to be pushed off a cliff.

I covered my mouth tightly, afraid I would let out a scream. I felt my back pressed against the door. Inside, Liam whispered again.

“Tomorrow I’ll give her a mild sedative. On the mountain pass, she’ll be half asleep. If anything happens, it will seem even more like an accident. You just remember, don’t leave any trace on the phone. Understood? Be a good girl at home and wait for me to bring you the papers to sign,” he said.

I could not listen anymore. If I did, I would break down right there. My knees suddenly gave way and I slid down the cold wall, sitting on the hallway carpet. The carpet was soft, but it felt as if I were sitting on sharp blades.

In my mind, images swirled: our wedding day at the luxury hotel, him holding my hand looking into my eyes and saying,

“I will never leave you,” he had said.

The times my stomach ached from the treatments and he would make me a glass of warm water, saying,

“Just one last push darling, we’ll have a child soon,” he had said.

The nights I waited for him until the early hours and he would hug me, apologizing,

“I had a business dinner, don’t be mad,” he would say.

Was all of that real or just a long play? In this house, the person I had always hated and feared the most was my mother-in-law Eleanor because of her hints, because of her inquisitive gaze at my belly. I often thought secretly,

“If I ever have to leave this house, it will be because of you,” I thought.

But it turned out that the person who wanted to erase me from this world was the one I slept with every night and had breakfast with every morning.

The Anniversary Plot in the Blue Mountains

I do not know how long I sat in the hallway. The hum of the air conditioning and the ticking of the wall clock seemed to amplify in the night, stabbing at my ears. In the office, the light stayed on for a while longer and then went out with a click. I heard the scrape of a chair and familiar footsteps approaching the door.

Like a drowning person who suddenly reacts, I scrambled back to the bedroom. My movements were clumsy; I nearly fell several times, but I managed to get to the bed, crawl under the covers, and turn my back to the door.

The bedroom door opened with a soft click. I heard Liam’s footsteps, slow and calm as always. The mattress dipped beside me. The smell of tobacco mixed with his usual cologne drew near my back. His arm reached out, preparing to hold me as usual. My entire body tensed; every muscle trembled slightly.

“Emily, are you still awake?” his voice was soft, a little hoarse.

I forced myself to swallow the lump in my throat, trying to mimic a sleepy voice.

“I was thirsty. I got up to use the washroom. I’m going back to sleep now. You should sleep too,” I said.

Liam was silent for a moment, then he withdrew his arm.

“Yes, we’re leaving early tomorrow. Sleep,” he said.

He turned over, his back to me. A few minutes later, his breathing became regular and deep, as if he were truly asleep. I, on the other hand, had my eyes wide open in the darkness, staring at the faint light filtering through the crack in the curtains.