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?
I looked at him and nodded slightly, saying nothing. When I reached the bedroom and closed the door, I felt my strength leave me. I leaned against the door and slid down until I was sitting on the floor.
In a single morning, everything had been turned upside down. His plan to kill me had not been executed because he himself had been declared dead by a substitute. I understood that what I knew was only the tip of the iceberg. Behind Liam, behind the woman on the phone, there was another hand—more discreet, more cruel, and willing to kill to achieve its goal.
The phone vibrated in my pocket. It was Chloe.
“I listened to the file you sent me, Emily. Where are you? Did something happen?” she asked.
I swallowed, my voice barely a whisper.
“I’m not dead yet, but everything is a mess. I’ll call you tonight and tell you everything,” I wrote.
“Be very careful, Emily. What you sent me is no joke,” she replied.
I hung up, put the phone away, and went into the bathroom. In the mirror, it was still me, but my gaze was different. It was no longer that of a gullible, submissive, and scared woman. Now, in my eyes, there was a vigilance that never rested.
I had just changed when I heard a knock on the door. It was my mother-in-law’s voice.
“Emily,” she said.
I opened the door. She stood there with swollen eyes and a cup of hot tea in her hand.
“Drink this, dear. You haven’t eaten anything all day,” she said.
I took the cup, saying in a low voice,
“Thanks, Mom,” I said.
She looked at me for a long time and suddenly burst into tears.
“Emily, I almost lost my son. I thought, I really thought Liam was dead,” she said.
I stood motionless, the liquid in the cup trembling with my hand.
“Mom, if the person in the accident today had been me, what would you think?” I asked.
The question slipped out, surprising myself. Eleanor froze for a second, then shook her head.
“What are you saying? Liam and you are husband and wife. It’s a tragedy I dare not even think about,” she said.
Her answer was ambiguous. I understood that in her heart, her son would always be the center. I, though I had been her daughter-in-law for 5 years, would always be on the periphery. She put a hand on my shoulder.
“Now get some rest. These days are going to be very complicated for the family,” she said.
She turned and left. I watched her go with a sense of emptiness.
The Substitute Victim and the Lone Sharks
Dinner was served, but almost no one ate. My father-in-law took a couple of bites and put down his cutlery. My mother-in-law was absent-minded, sighing from time to time. Liam kept his eyes on his phone, constantly receiving and making calls.
I noticed that every time the phone rang, his expression tensed. When he thought no one was watching, he would go out onto the balcony and talk for a long time. Around 9, he came back to the room. As soon as he closed the door, he approached me. Instinctively, I took a step back.
“Emily, were you very scared today?” he asked in a deep voice, trying to show concern.
I looked at him, struggling to remain calm.
“Anyone would be scared to hear their husband has died,” I said.
He sighed, putting a hand to his forehead.
“I never thought the day would come when I would receive the news of my own death, Emily. It seems someone is after me,” he said.
A bitter smile formed in my mind. It was not that someone was after him; it was that he himself had started this game. But aloud, I only said,
“I just hope everything is cleared up soon. I’m very tired,” I said.
Liam looked at me. His eyes darkened for an instant, and then he nodded.
“Rest,” he said.
That night, I did not sleep. The wind whispered in the garden, and the chirping of insects increased my anxiety. Through the window, I saw that the light on his office balcony was still on. He was awake again. Around 1 a.m., my phone vibrated softly. It was a message from an unknown number.
“If you want to know who died in your husband’s place, tomorrow at 7:00 a.m. at the coffee shop across from the hospital, come alone. Don’t tell anyone,” it read.
My heart sank. I read the message several times. In my mind, the face of the woman from the call appeared, but my gut told me that the person who sent the message was not her. I looked towards Liam. The light from the balcony cast a thin line into the room. He was still absorbed in his secret calls, unaware that another door to this story was about to open.
I deleted the message, put the phone away, and closed my eyes. I no longer felt a vague fear, but a cold expectation. I knew that starting tomorrow, I would not only be the prey; I would also begin to hunt.
The next morning, I woke up at 5, when the sky was still covered in mist and the air in the room was unusually cold. Beside me, Liam was still sleeping with his back to me. His face in the dim light looked peaceful, as if the terrible news of his death had never happened. If it were not for the message on my phone, I would have wondered if everything yesterday was real or just a nightmare.
I got out of bed silently, my steps stealthy so as not to wake him. In the bathroom, I washed my face for a long time to keep myself awake. The unknown message appeared on the screen again: “7, alone at the coffee shop across from the hospital.” Not a word more. Whoever sent it knew my schedule. They knew I was near the hospital.
I clutched the phone. If I did not go, I might never know who died in Liam’s place. If I went, I was not sure I would come back in one piece. I put on simple clothes, a light jacket, and left with my purse. In the kitchen, my mother-in-law was already up, making tea. When she saw me, she looked up.
“Where are you going so early?” she asked.
I tilted my head, my voice soft.
“I’m going to buy something for breakfast,” I said.
She nodded without asking further questions. Probably, in her mind, there was only room for worry about her son. I left the house in the pale dawn light, my heart beating faster with every step.
The coffee shop was right across from the hospital. It was small and almost empty. I chose a table in a secluded corner with my back to the glass window. The wall clock read 7:00 sharp. I had barely sat down when a middle-aged man sat across from me. He must have been over 50. He was thin, with tanned skin and a sharp but weary gaze. He did not order anything, just looked at me intently.
“You’re Emily?” he asked.
I nodded, unable to hide my suspicion.
“You’re the one who sent me the message?” I asked.
He slowly took a photograph from his jacket pocket and slid it towards me. I looked at it and felt my heart stop. In the photo was a young man with a burned face, but I instantly recognized the shirt he was wearing. It was the same one Liam had once worn to a business dinner.
“The man who died yesterday was my nephew,” he said in a hoarse voice.
“His name was Ryan,” he said.
I was speechless.
“Why was your nephew wearing my husband’s clothes? Why was he driving a car in his name?” I asked, my voice trembling.
He gave a sad smile.
“Because someone paid him to die in his place,” he said.
The words “die in his place” were like an icy stab to my chest. I pressed my lips together, trying to stay calm.
“Who was it?” I whispered.
He looked at me carefully and said slowly.
“Your own husband,” he said.
I felt like I was collapsing. Although I was prepared for anything, hearing it from someone else was like having my heart torn out.
“What are you saying?” I whispered.
“Liam met with my nephew last week. He had a lot of debt. The loan sharks had him cornered. Liam promised to pay off all his debts in exchange for a job: to dress like the photo on the driver’s license, drive a car in Liam’s name, and cause an accident on the mountain pass,” he said.
I shivered.
“Do you have proof?” I asked.
He sighed, took out his phone, and played a recording. Liam’s voice came through clearly, negotiating every detail with Ryan. I listened with my ears ringing and a lump in my throat.
“Why are you doing this?” I asked.
His eyes reddened.
