Rain tapped softly against the tall windows of the Adams mansion. Inside everything looked like a dream. Crystal lights hanging from the ceiling.

Marble floors so shiny you could see your reflection. Gold picture frames on the walls. Soft leather chairs that cost more than most people’s cars.

But that night in that beautiful house, Desmond Adams felt like the poorest man in the world. He sat in his office on the second floor, staring at a cup of coffee that had gone cold hours ago. He was 45 years old.

Strong shoulders. Kind eyes. A calm face that rarely showed emotion.

People called him smart. Powerful. A man who could solve any problem.

But tonight he couldn’t solve the problem in his own heart. Does Monica really love me? The question burned inside him like a fire that wouldn’t go out. Monica.

His wife. 35 years old, with a smile that could light up any room. When they got married 7 years ago everyone talked.

Some people whispered that she only wanted his money. Others said she was too young, too pretty, too interested in expensive things. But Monica had always said the right words.

I love you Desmond, she would say touching his face gently. Not your money. Not your house.

Just you. And Desmond had believed her. Oh how badly he had wanted to believe her.

He remembered their wedding day like it was yesterday. Monica had worn a white dress that sparkled like diamonds. She had cried real tears or so he thought, and promised in front of 200 guests, I will stand by you forever.

Rich or poor. Happy or sad. You are my world Desmond.

My everything. The guests had cheered. Desmond’s heart had been so full of joy he thought it might burst.

But now 7 years later that joy felt like a distant memory. Things had changed. Slowly at first like seasons changing from summer to winter.

Monica stopped holding his hand when they walked together. She no longer asked about his day. Her eyes lit up only when he bought her jewelry or designer clothes.

And lately she spent more time on her phone than talking to him. Last Tuesday, Desmond had heard something that made his blood run cold. He had come home early from work.

Monica didn’t know he was there. He heard her voice coming from the living room. She was on the phone laughing.

A sound he rarely heard anymore when he was around. Girl I’m telling you I can’t take it much longer, Monica had said. Her voice sounded annoyed and tired.

He’s so boring these days. Always working always being careful with money. Where’s the fun? Where’s the excitement? Sometimes I wonder why I’m even still here.

Desmond had frozen in the hallway, his briefcase heavy in his hand. Monica had continued, not knowing he could hear every word. And he’s always watching me like he doesn’t trust me.

It’s exhausting. I just want to live my life you know? Those words had cut deeper than any knife. But Desmond had said nothing.

He had walked quietly back outside waited 10 minutes then came in again. This time making noise so Monica would know he was home. When he entered the living room Monica’s face had changed completely.

Suddenly she was smiling sweet asking about his day like she actually cared. It was like watching an actress put on a That night, Desmond couldn’t sleep. He lay in bed next to his wife, wondering if everything between them was just a performance.

Wondering if she had ever truly loved him at all. Then three days ago something happened that changed everything. It was a Thursday morning.

Bright and sunny. Monica had been getting ready for lunch with her friends. She left her phone on the kitchen counter while she went upstairs to change her outfit for the third time.

Desmond wasn’t He really wasn’t. But the phone lit up with a new message and his eyes caught it by accident. The message said, once he’s gone we’ll have everything to ourselves.

Just be patient. Desmond’s heart had stopped beating. For a moment he forgot how to breathe.

He picked up the phone with shaking hands and read the message again. Once he’s gone we’ll have everything to ourselves. Gone? Gone where? And who was we? The message was from someone saved in Monica’s phone as just No real name.

No photo. Just two letters. Desmond’s mind raced with terrible questions.

Was Monica planning to leave him? Was she having an affair? Or, and this thought made him feel sick, was she planning something even worse? He heard footsteps on the stairs. Monica was coming back. Quickly, Desmond put the phone down exactly where it had been and walked away, his heart pounding like a drum.

For the rest of that day he couldn’t think about anything else. The message played over and over in his mind like a song he couldn’t stop hearing. Once he’s gone.

That night, Desmond did something he had never done before. He called his younger sister Grace and asked her to come over immediately. It was urgent he said.

He needed help. Grace arrived within 30 minutes. She was 38 years old, sharp as a knife, with eyes that could see through lies like windows.

She worked as a lawyer and had always been protective of her big brother. From the very beginning, Grace had never trusted Monica. Something about her doesn’t feel real, Grace had told him before the wedding.

Her smiles are too perfect. Her words are too sweet. Real people have flaws, Desmond.

She’s hiding something. But Desmond had been in love. He hadn’t wanted to hear it.

He had told Grace she was just being overprotective, jealous even. Now, sitting in his office with rain drumming against the windows, Desmond wished he had listened to his sister. Grace sat across from him reading the message on his phone.

Her face grew darker with every second. Who is E.M., she asked, her voice tight with anger. I don’t know, Desmond admitted.

He sounded defeated, broken. Grace looked up at her brother. Desmond this is serious.

Once he’s gone we’ll have everything to ourselves. That’s not just an affair. That sounds like, like they’re planning something.

I know. Desmond’s voice was barely a whisper. Have you asked her about it? No.

If I confront her she’ll just lie. She’ll delete everything. And I’ll never know the truth.

Desmond put his head in his hands. Grace I feel like I’m going crazy. I don’t know what’s real anymore….

Does she love me? Has she ever loved me? Or have I been a fool this whole time? Grace was quiet for a long moment. Then she said something that would change both their lives forever. Then test her.

Desmond looked up. What? Test her, Grace repeated leaning forward. If you want to know the truth, the real truth, then you need to create a situation where Monica can’t lie anymore.

Where she has to show her true self. How do I do that? Grace’s eyes were serious and sad. Give her what she seems to want.

Take yourself out of the picture. Make her think you’re gone. Then watch what she does.

Desmond stared at his sister like she had just spoken in a foreign language. You mean, fake my death? Yes. The word hung in the air between them like smoke.

That’s crazy, Desmond said. So is plotting to get rid of your husband, Grace shot back pointing at the phone. Listen to yourself Desmond.

You’re already thinking the worst. You already suspect she wants you gone. This message proves you’re not imagining things.

So why not find out the truth once and for all? Desmond stood up and walked to the window. Outside the rain was falling harder now washing everything clean. He wished it could wash away his doubts and fears too.

If Monica truly loves you, Grace continued gently, then she’ll be heartbroken. She’ll mourn you. She’ll protect your name and honor your memory.

She’ll stay faithful to who you were. And if she doesn’t love me, then she’ll show you exactly who she really is. Desmond closed his eyes.

The idea was extreme. Dangerous even. What if something went wrong? What if people got hurt? But then he remembered Monica’s cold eyes.

Her constant need for money. Her phone conversations filled with complaints about him. That mysterious message.

Once he’s gone, he needed to know the truth. Even if it destroyed him. If I do this, Desmond said slowly, I’ll need help.

I can’t just disappear without a solid plan. I’ll help you with everything, Grace promised. And we should bring in Dr. Paul.

He’s your doctor. He can make it look convincing. Dr. Paul Thompson had been Desmond’s physician for 15 years.

More than that, he was a trusted friend. A man of honor and discretion. If anyone could help make this work, it was Paul.

Desmond turned from the window and looked at his sister. This was the biggest decision of his entire life. Once he started down this road, there would be no turning back.

Okay, he finally whispered. Let’s do it. Let’s find out who my wife really is.

Grace stood and hugged her brother tightly. I’m sorry, Desmond. I’m sorry it has to be this way.

Me too. At that exact moment, they heard Monica’s laughter floating up from downstairs. She was on the phone again her voice light and musical.

She sounded happy, carefree, like a woman without a single problem in the world. She sounded like a woman with secrets. And Desmond was about to uncover every single one.

The test was about to begin. A test that would expose the truth, shatter lies and change everything forever. Nobody, not Monica, not Desmond, not even Grace, could imagine what was about to happen next.

The next morning, Desmond woke up with a heavy feeling in his chest. He had barely slept. All night long he kept thinking about what he was about to do.

Fake his own death. Just thinking those words made him feel strange. Normal people didn’t do things like this.

Normal people talked to their wives. They went to marriage counseling. They worked things out.

But this wasn’t a normal situation. And Desmond needed answers that talking couldn’t give him. Monica was still asleep beside him, her face peaceful and beautiful.

Looking at her now, it was hard to believe she could be planning anything bad. She looked innocent. Sweet.

Like the woman he had fallen in love with all those years ago. But Desmond knew better now. He had learned that people could wear masks.

They could smile on the outside while plotting on the inside. He got out of bed quietly and went downstairs. The mansion felt too big and too empty, even though it was filled with expensive furniture and beautiful things.

Jason the driver was already awake in the kitchen making coffee. Good morning sir, Jason said with a warm smile. You’re up early.

Couldn’t sleep, Desmond replied honestly. Jason looked at him with concern. Is everything okay Mr. Adams? Desmond wanted to tell him everything.

Jason had been loyal for years. He was more than just a driver, he was a friend. But Desmond couldn’t involve him.

Not yet. The fewer people who knew about the plan the better. Everything’s fine Jason.

Just work stress, Desmond lied. Jason didn’t look convinced, but he nodded and poured Desmond a cup of hot coffee. An hour later, Grace arrived at the mansion.

She came through the back entrance so Monica wouldn’t see her. They had agreed to keep their meeting secret from now on. Desmond met her in his office and closed the door.

I brought someone, Grace said. Behind her Dr. Paul Thompson walked in. He was 50 years old with gray hair and kind eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses.

He had been Desmond’s doctor since Desmond was 30. More importantly he was someone Desmond trusted completely. Desmond, Dr. Paul said shaking his hand.

Grace told me everything. Are you sure you want to do this? Desmond took a deep breath. I need to know the truth Paul.

I can’t live like this anymore always wondering always suspicious. If Monica loves me this will prove it. If she doesn’t.

He couldn’t finish the sentence. Dr. Paul sat down looking serious. All right.

If we’re going to do this we need to do it perfectly. One mistake and the whole thing falls apart. Grace pulled out a notebook.

I’ve been thinking about it all night. Here’s what we need to do. For the next two hours the three of them planned every single detail.

The plan was this. Desmond would go on a business trip. Something he did often so Monica wouldn’t suspect anything.

He would drive himself which was unusual but he would tell Monica that Jason needed time off for a family emergency. On the highway about two hours outside the city Desmond would stage a car accident. Dr. Paul would help make it look real.

They would use a remote location where there were no security cameras. The car would catch fire. Not a real fire but enough smoke and damage to make it look convincing.

Desmond would leave his wedding ring in the car partially melted so the police could identify his body but there would be no body. Desmond would escape before anyone arrived. Dr. Paul would create fake medical reports saying the body was burned beyond recognition and that dental records confirmed it was Desmond Adams.

It sounded like something from a movie. Crazy. Impossible.

Dangerous. But it could work. Where will you stay while you’re dead? Dr. Paul asked.

I own a small apartment downtown under a different name. Desmond explained. I bought it years ago as an investment.

Nobody knows about it. Not even Monica. I can hide there and watch everything that happens.

How will you watch? Grace asked. Desmond pulled out his phone and showed them. I installed security cameras all around this house six months ago.

Small ones. Hidden. They record everything.

The living room, the bedroom, Monica’s office, even the front gate. The footage goes straight to my phone. I can see and hear everything from anywhere.

Grace raised her eyebrows. You installed cameras six months ago? So you’ve been suspicious for that long? Desmond nodded sadly. I didn’t want to believe it.

But yes I’ve had doubts for a while now. Have you seen anything suspicious on the cameras? Dr. Paul asked. Not yet.

Monica’s been careful. But once she thinks I’m gone. Desmond’s gone.

She’ll stop being careful. Grace finished. She’ll show her true self.

Dr. Paul stood up and paced the room. This is risky Desmond. If anyone finds out what we did we could all go to jail.

Faking a death is a serious crime. I know. Desmond said quietly.

And I’m not asking you to risk yourself. If you don’t want to help I understand. Dr. Paul stopped pacing and looked at his old friend.

I’ve known you for 15 years Desmond. You’re one of the best men I’ve ever met. If your wife is plotting something terrible then you have every right to protect yourself.

I’ll help you. Desmond felt relief wash over him. Thank you Paul.

When do we do this? Grace asked. Desmond thought for a moment. Soon.

This week. I’ll tell Monica tomorrow that I have an emergency business meeting in another city. The sooner we do this the less chance something goes wrong.

They spend another hour going over every tiny detail. What Desmond would wear. What he would pack.

How Dr. Paul would handle the police and the medical reports. How Grace would support Monica publicly while secretly reporting everything back to Desmond. Finally when everything was planned Dr. Paul and Grace left through the back entrance one at a time so no one would see them together.

Desmond sat alone in his office staring at his hands. In a few days Desmond Adams would be dead. And everyone, his friends, his business partners, his employees, and his wife would believe it.

Everyone except the people who knew the truth. Desmond picked up a small photo from his desk. It was from his wedding day.

Monica looked so happy in that picture. Her arms around him. Her smile bright and real.

Or had it been fake even then. Soon he would know. The last normal day.

The next morning Desmond told Monica about the business trip. They were having breakfast together. Something that rarely happened anymore.

Monica was on her phone as usual scrolling through social media and barely touching her food. Monica, Desmond said gently. She looked up surprised that he was speaking to her.

Yes. I have to go on a business trip this Friday. There’s an important deal I need to close in person….

Monica’s eyes lit up slightly. Oh. How long will you be gone? Just a few days.

Maybe a week. Okay, Monica said already looking back at her phone. She didn’t ask where he was going or what the deal was about.

She didn’t seem to care. Desmond felt a sharp pain in his chest. Once upon a time Monica would have been worried about him traveling.

She would have packed his suitcase and kissed him goodbye and told him to call her every night. Now she just said, okay without even looking at him. I’ll be driving myself, Desmond added.

Jason needs time off for a family emergency. This time Monica did look up. You’re driving yourself? That’s unusual.

It’s fine. I like driving sometimes. Gives me time to think.

Monica shrugged. Whatever you want. Then she stood up, leaving her food half-eaten.

I’m going shopping with Sarah today. I’ll need some money. Of course she would.

She always needed money. Desmond pulled out his wallet and handed her his credit card without a word. Monica took it, kissed him quickly on the cheek.

A kiss that felt cold and empty, and walked away already texting someone on her phone. Desmond sat alone at the breakfast table, surrounded by luxury and elegance, feeling more lonely than he had ever felt in his entire life. That afternoon, Desmond did something he had been avoiding.

He went to his company office to prepare for his death. He called his lawyer, Mr. Harrison, a serious man with sharp eyes and a reputation for being completely trustworthy. Mr. Harrison, I need to update my will, Desmond said, sitting across from him in the lawyer’s office.

Mr. Harrison pulled out some papers. Of course, Mr. Adams. What changes would you like to make? If something happens to me, if I die, I want everything to be frozen for 60 days before anyone can access it.

No money. No property. Nothing.

For two months, everything stays exactly as it is. Mr. Harrison frowned. That’s unusual.

May I ask why? Desmond had prepared for this question. I want to make sure that if something happens to me, it’s clearly an accident and not something else. I want the police to have time to investigate thoroughly.

Mr. Harrison’s frown deepened. Mr. Adams, are you in some kind of danger? Just being careful, Desmond said with a calm smile. You know how business is.

There are people who would benefit from my death. I want to make sure my wife is protected and that nothing suspicious happens to my estate. This seemed to Mr. Harrison.

Very wise. I’ll draw up the papers immediately. Two hours later, Desmond signed the new will.

Now if he died, Monica couldn’t touch any of his money or property for 60 days. It would give him time to watch her to see what she would do to gather evidence. It would also protect him if Monica really was planning something terrible.

That evening, Desmond came home to find Monica getting ready for a party. She wore a tight red dress that sparkled under the lights and diamond earrings that he had bought her for their anniversary last year. Where are you going? Desmond asked.

Sarah’s birthday party. I told you about it last week. Monica looked at him in the mirror while putting on lipstick.

You said you didn’t want to come. Desmond didn’t remember her telling him about any party, but it didn’t matter now. What time will you be back? Late.

Don’t wait up. Monica grabbed her purse and walked past him without a goodbye kiss. Desmond watched her leave, hearing the sound of her high heels clicking down the stairs, then the front door closing, then her car driving away.

He was alone in the big house. Desmond went to his office and opened his laptop. The security camera footage was right there showing every room in the house.

He could see the empty living room, the quiet kitchen, the bedroom they shared. Soon, very soon, he would be watching these cameras from his secret apartment, seeing everything Monica did when she thought no one was watching. His phone buzzed.

It was a text from Grace. Are you ready for Friday? Desmond typed back, as ready as I’ll ever be. Grace replied, it’s going to be okay, brother.

We’ll find out the truth. But what if the truth was worse than he imagined? What if Monica really was planning to hurt him? What if that message, once he’s gone, we’ll have everything to ourselves, meant exactly what it sounded like? Desmond looked at his wedding ring. Gold.

Simple. Inside it was engraved, forever yours. In two days he would leave this ring in a burned car, and the world would think Desmond Adams was dead.

And then he would finally see who his wife really was. Friday morning arrived with bright sunshine. It was a beautiful day, the kind of day where nothing bad should happen.

But today Desmond Adams would die. At least that’s what everyone would believe. Desmond woke up early, his heart beating fast.

He looked at Monica sleeping beside him. She looked peaceful, innocent. Part of him wanted to wake her up, tell her everything, ask her to just be honest with him.

But he couldn’t. He had come too far. He needed to see this through.

Desmond got out of bed quietly and took a shower. He dressed in simple clothes, jeans and a blue shirt. He packed a small bag with just a few things.

Some clothes, his laptop and a phone that Monica didn’t know about. When he came downstairs Monica was in the kitchen, surprisingly awake. She was making coffee wearing a silk nightgown.

You’re leaving early, she said not looking at him. Want to beat the traffic, Desmond replied. Monica turned around and looked at him.

For a moment, just a brief moment, something soft appeared in her eyes. Something that looked almost like concern. Drive safely, she said.

Those were the last words his wife would say to him before he died. I will, Desmond promised. Then he did something he hadn’t done in months.

He walked over to her and hugged her tightly. Monica seemed surprised. She stood stiff for a second, then slowly put her arms around him.

I love you Monica, Desmond whispered into her hair. He meant it. Despite everything, despite all his doubts and suspicions, part of him still loved the woman he had married.

I love you too, Monica said back. But her voice sounded empty. Like she was reading lines from a script.

Desmond pulled away grabbed his bag and walked to the door. He turned back one last time to look at his wife. She was already back on her phone scrolling the moment already forgotten.

Desmond got into his car, a black luxury sedan, and drove away from the mansion. As the house disappeared in his rearview mirror, he wondered if he would ever come back. Would he ever live there again? Would Monica even want him back after all this? He drove for two hours heading toward the remote highway where they had planned everything.

The road was empty. No other cars. No cameras.

Just trees and open sky. Finally he saw Dr. Paul’s car parked on the side of the road. Behind it was a tow truck driven by Marcus, Dr. Paul’s cousin, who had agreed to help without asking too many questions.

Desmond pulled over and got out. Ready? Dr. Paul asked. He looked nervous.

Ready, Desmond said even though his hands were shaking. For the next hour they worked quickly. Marcus used the tow truck to position Desmond’s car near a tree, making it look like it had crashed.

They broke the windshield carefully. They dented the front of the car. Then came the hardest part.

Desmond took off his wedding ring, the ring he had worn every single day for seven years, and placed it on the driver’s seat. The ring that said, forever yours inside. Dr. Paul placed some of his own medical equipment in the car to make it look like someone had been there.

Then he set up special smoke machines that would create thick black smoke without actually burning anything dangerous. Once we start the smoke you need to leave immediately, Dr. Paul warned. I’ll call the police in exactly ten minutes.

By the time they arrive, you need to be far away from here. Desmond nodded. His throat felt tight.

This was really happening. Marcus set off the smoke machines. Thick, black smoke began pouring out of the car, making it look like it was on fire.

Go. Now. Dr. Paul shouted…

Desmond ran to Dr. Paul’s car, got in the back seat, and lay down flat so no one could see him. Dr. Paul jumped in the driver’s seat and drove away quickly. Behind them, Desmond’s car sat smoking by the side of the road, looking exactly like a terrible accident.

Desmond Adams was now officially dead. Chapter 5, The Shocking Reaction Dr. Paul drove Desmond to the secret apartment downtown. It was small and simple, nothing like the mansion.

Just one bedroom, a kitchen and a living room. But it had everything Desmond needed. Internet, electricity and complete privacy.

I’ll call you as soon as I finish with the police, Dr. Paul said at the door. Stay here. Don’t go outside.

Don’t let anyone see you. I won’t, Desmond promised. After Dr. Paul left, Desmond sat on the couch and waited.

His phone, his secret phone that Monica didn’t know about, was in his hand. On it, he had the app that connected to all the security cameras in the mansion. He waited.

One hour passed. Then two. Then his phone rang.

Was Dr. Paul. It’s done, Dr. Paul said quietly. The police have declared it a fatal accident.

They found the wedding ring. They believe it’s you. I’m so sorry Desmond, but your wife has been informed.

Desmond’s heart was pounding. What did she say? She, she didn’t say much. She just asked if they were sure.

Then she hung up. That was strange. Shouldn’t she have cried? Screamed? Asked a million questions? Thank you Paul.

For everything. Be careful my friend. And I hope you find what you’re looking for.

Desmond hung up and immediately opened the security camera app. He clicked on the camera in the master bedroom. There was Monica.

Sitting on the bed. Alone. Desmond held his breath, waiting to see her break down in tears.

Waiting to see her grief. But what he saw instead made his blood turn to ice. Monica stood up slowly.

She walked to the mirror. And then, Desmond couldn’t believe his eyes. She smiled.

Not a sad smile. Not a smile through tears. A real smile.

What? Excited. Happy. She looked at herself in the mirror and whispered something.

Desmond turned up the volume on his phone. Finally, Monica said to her reflection. Finally it’s over.

Then she laughed. A small laugh at first then bigger. She actually laughed.

Desmond felt like someone had punched him in the stomach. He couldn’t breathe. His wife, the woman he loved, was laughing because she thought he was dead.

Monica pulled out her phone and made a call. Desmond watched his whole body shaking. It’s done, Monica said into the phone.

Her voice was cheerful. Excited. Yes the police just called.

Car accident. He’s gone. Desmond couldn’t hear the other person, but he could see Monica’s face light up.

I know. I can barely believe it myself. We did it baby.

We actually did it. She paused listening. No no one suspects anything.

It was a perfect accident. Just like we planned. Just like we planned.

Those four words echoed in Desmond’s head like thunder. Just like we planned. They had planned this.

Monica and whoever Imel was. They had planned for him to die. And when a real accident happened, or what they thought was a real accident, they believed their plan had worked.

Monica continued talking, pacing around the room. The funeral will be in a few days. I’ll play the sad widow perfectly.

Then after everything settles down we can start moving the money. All of it will be ours. She listened again then laughed.

I know you’re excited Elijah. I’m too. But we have to be patient just a little bit longer.

We can’t celebrate too openly yet. People are watching. Elijah.

So Im stood for Elijah Im. And from her words, Desmond could tell, this was someone close. Someone who knew him.

I’ll see you tomorrow, Monica said sweetly. I love you too. Bye baby.

She hung up and literally jumped on the bed, kicking her feet in the air like a happy child. Desmond’s wife was celebrating his death. He turned off the phone and sat in complete silence.

The small apartment felt like a prison. Outside the sun was setting, painting the sky orange and pink. Such a beautiful evening.

But Desmond felt like his whole world had turned dark. Everything he had feared was true. Monica didn’t love him.

She had never loved him. She had been waiting for him to die so she could take everything. And this Elijah, whoever he was, was in on it too.

Grace called an hour later. Have you seen, she asked quietly. I saw, Desmond said.

His voice sounded dead emotionless. I’m so sorry She was celebrating Grace. Laughing.

She said, just like we planned. They wanted me dead. Grace was quiet for a moment.

Then we need to finish this. We need to expose her completely. Are you strong enough to keep watching? Desmond thought about it.

Part of him wanted to stop right now. Part of him wanted to walk into the mansion and reveal himself, just to see the shock on Monica’s face. But that wouldn’t be enough.

He needed evidence. He needed to see how far she would go. He needed the whole world to see who she really was.

I’ll keep watching, Desmond said firmly. I want to see everything. Okay.

I’ll play my part. Tomorrow I’ll go to the mansion to comfort Monica. I’ll keep you updated on everything.

After Grace hung up, Desmond opened the camera app again. This time he checked the camera in Monica’s private office. She was there sitting at her computer.

And she was looking at something on the screen. Desmond zoomed in. His heart stopped.

Monica was looking at bank accounts. His bank accounts. She was writing down numbers, calculating something.

Then she opened another tab. It was an email to someone named Elijah Morrison. Elijah Morrison.

Now Desmond had a full name. The email said, Baby I’m looking at the accounts now. There’s over 50 million dollars in total.

Plus the house, the cars, the company shares. We’re going to be so rich. Just a few more days and we can start the transfer process.

I can’t wait to start our new life together. 50 million dollars. That’s what his life was worth to her.

That’s what their seven years of marriage meant. Desmond felt hot tears running down his face. He didn’t try to stop them.

He just sat there in that small apartment watching his wife plan to steal everything he had worked for, everything he had built. And the worst part? She was doing it with a smile on her face. The test had begun.

And Monica was failing in the most terrible way possible. But Desmond was going to let her keep digging her own grave. He was going to watch every lie, every betrayal, every cruel word.

And when the time was right, he would come back from the dead. And the truth would destroy her. Three days after his death, Desmond sat in his small apartment watching the preparations for his own funeral.

It was the strangest feeling in the world. Watching people plan to bury you when you were still alive. Watching them cry for you.

Watching them say goodbye. But strangest of all was watching his wife pretend to mourn. Grace had gone to the mansion the day after the accident, to comfort Monica.

Desmond watched it all through the security cameras. Grace had knocked on the door and Monica had answered wearing all black. Her eyes were red, but Desmond noticed she had used makeup to make them look that way.

Her face was sad, her shoulders slumped. Oh Grace, Monica had said in a broken voice falling into Grace’s arms. I can’t believe he’s gone.

My Desmond. My husband. Grace had hugged her back, but Desmond could see his sister’s jaw was tight.

Grace was a good actress too, but Desmond knew her well enough to see the anger in her eyes. I’m here for you, Grace had said. Whatever you need.

For the next hour, Monica had cried and talked about how much she loved Desmond. How they had planned to grow old together. How her life was empty without him.

It was all lies. Every single word. Because that same evening when Grace left, Desmond watched Monica through the cameras.

The moment the front door closed, Monica’s sad face disappeared like someone turning off a light switch. She smiled, poured herself a glass of expensive wine and called Elijah. That was exhausting, Monica said with a laugh.

Playing the sad widow is harder than I thought. Grace wouldn’t leave. She kept asking if I needed anything.

Desmond couldn’t hear Elijah’s response, but Monica laughed at whatever he said. I know baby. Just a few more days.

The funeral is on Saturday. After that we can start moving forward with our plans. Now it was Saturday.

Funeral day. Desmond sat in his apartment, dressed in old sweatpants and a t-shirt, watching his own funeral on his phone through the cameras he had hidden near the funeral home entrance. Hundreds of people came.

Business partners. Friends. Employees from his company.

Even people he barely knew. They all wore black. They all looked sad…

And in the front, dressed in an elegant black dress with a veil covering her face, was Monica. She played her part perfectly. Desmond watched as she walked slowly to his casket.

Empty of course since there was no body. She placed her hand on it and her shoulders shook like she was crying. People around her whispered comforting words.

They touched her shoulder. They told her how sorry they were. Grace stood beside Monica supporting her.

But every few minutes Grace would glance at the hidden camera, and Desmond knew she was thinking of him watching all this. The pastor spoke about Desmond’s life. About how he had built his business from nothing.

About how he had been generous and kind. About how he had loved his wife deeply. That last part made Desmond’s chest hurt.

He had loved Monica deeply. That was true. But she had never loved him back.

Not really. After the service, people lined up to offer Monica their condolences. She shook every hand.

She accepted every hug. She cried gentle tears that she wiped away with a black handkerchief. She was magnificent.

If Desmond didn’t know the truth, even he would have believed she was heartbroken. But then Desmond noticed something. A man in the crowd.

Tall handsome wearing an expensive suit. He had dark hair slicked back and a confident smile that didn’t quite fit the sad occasion. The man approached Monica and when he did, something changed in her body language.

She stood up straighter. Her fake tears stopped for just a moment. Mrs. Adams, the man said taking her hand.

I’m so sorry for your loss. Desmond was a good man. Thank you, Monica said softly.

But Desmond saw it, the way her fingers squeezed the man’s hand just a little longer than necessary. This was Elijah. Had to be.

Desmond leaned closer to his phone screen studying the man. Elijah Morrison. The man his wife loved.

The man she had planned to steal everything with. He looked successful. Charming.

The kind of man who knew he was handsome. And the way he looked at Monica, even here at a funeral surrounded by people, there was something hungry in his eyes. After Elijah walked away Monica watched him go.

Just for a second, a small smile appeared on her lips before she caught herself and put her sad mask back on. Desmond felt sick to his stomach. The funeral ended.

People slowly left. Monica climbed into a black car with Grace heading back to the mansion. Desmond switched to the mansion cameras and waited for them to arrive.

The mask comes off. Monica and Grace arrived at the mansion an hour later. Several people had come back to the house for a small gathering, something traditional after funerals.

The house was filled with quiet conversations. People ate small sandwiches and drank coffee. They shared memories of Desmond.

They told Monica how strong she was being. Monica played her role beautifully, moving from group to group, thanking everyone for coming, dabbing at her eyes with tissues. But Desmond noticed something.

Every few minutes Monica would check her phone. She would type something quickly, then put it away with a small smile before anyone noticed. The gathering lasted for three hours.

Finally the last person left. Grace stayed behind helping Monica clean up. You should rest, Grace told Monica.

You’ve had a long day. You’re right, Monica said with a tired smile. Thank you for everything Grace.

I don’t know what I would do without you. Grace hugged her. That’s what family is for.

Call me if you need anything. After Grace left, Monica stood at the door for a moment, making sure she was really gone. Then she closed the door locked it and against it with a huge sigh.

Through the camera, Desmond watched his wife’s face transform. The sadness melted away. The tiredness disappeared.

Instead Monica’s face lit up with excitement and relief. She kicked off her black high heels and actually danced, yes danced, across the living room floor in her funeral dress. Finally, she said out loud to the empty house.

Finally they’re all gone. She grabbed her phone and immediately called someone. From her first words, Desmond knew it was Elijah.

Baby, everyone just left. Oh my god, that was exhausting. Monica flopped onto the expensive leather couch, the same couch where she and Desmond used to watch movies together.

She listened for a moment then laughed. I know, I saw you there. You looked so handsome in that suit.

I wanted to kiss you right there in front of everyone. Desmond’s hands clenched into fists. The performance? Monica continued.

Oh, I think I deserve an award. You should have seen me crying. Even I almost believed myself.

She laughed again, clearly proud of her acting. When can you come over? Monica asked, her voice turning sweeter. I miss you.

This house is so big and empty now. Well, it’s always been empty. Desmond was barely here anyway.

Always working, always busy. Never paying attention to me. That wasn’t true.

Desmond had always made time for Monica. He had taken her on vacations, bought her gifts, tried to make her happy. But apparently none of that mattered.

Tomorrow night? Monica said. Yes perfect. Grace won’t come by that soon.

She’ll think I need space to grieve. She rolled her eyes. Grieve? As if.

She was quiet for a moment listening. The money? Yes I’ve been looking into it. There’s a lot Elijah.

More than we even thought. 50 million in liquid cash and investments. Plus the mansion is worth at least 20 million.

The cars, the jewelry, the company shares. Baby we’re going to be richer than we ever dreamed. She paused again.

His lawyer said something about the wool being frozen for 60 days. Some weird clause Desmond added recently. But that’s fine.

It just means we have to wait a little bit. 60 days is nothing compared to the 7 years I’ve spent playing the loving wife. 7 years.

Their entire marriage. All of it had been fake for her. Desmond felt tears running down his face again, but he didn’t wipe them away.

He just kept watching. I love you too, Monica said sweetly. See you tomorrow night.

Wear that cologne I like. She made a kissing sound into the phone and hung up. Then Monica stood up, stretched like a cat and walked to the bar.

She poured herself a large glass of champagne, the expensive kind that Desmond had been saving for a special occasion. She raised the glass to the air. To freedom, she said to herself.

To money. And to the end of the most boring marriage in history. She drank the entire glass in one go.

Then she went upstairs to the bedroom, their bedroom and started going through Desmond’s things. She pulled out his expensive watches and laid them on the bed. She opened his closet and ran her hands over his suits.

I can sell these, she muttered to herself. Rich people love buying dead people’s things. I’ll say it’s too painful to keep them.

She laughed at her own cleverness. Desmond couldn’t watch anymore. He closed the app and threw his phone onto the couch.

He sat there in the dark apartment feeling completely hollow inside. This was worse than he had imagined. Monica wasn’t just indifferent to his death.

She wasn’t just relieved. She was celebrating. She was treating his death, like winning the lottery.

And tomorrow night she was bringing Elijah, her lover, into their home. Into their bedroom. Desmond’s phone buzzed.

It was a text from Grace. Are you okay? I know today was hard. He texted back.

I saw everything. She called Elijah right after you left. They’re meeting tomorrow night.

Grace replied immediately. Do you want me to stop this? I can go back there, stay with her, prevent? No, Desmond typed. Let it happen.

I need to see everything. I need evidence of everything she does. The more she reveals, the stronger our case will be.

Okay. But please take care of yourself. This can’t be easy to watch.

It’s not. But I have to see the truth. All of it.

Desmond put down his phone and walked to the window. Outside the city lights sparkled like stars. Somewhere out there, in his mansion on the hill, his wife was planning her future with another man.

A future built on his death. But Monica had made one big mistake. She thought Desmond was gone.

She thought she was safe to do whatever she wanted. She had no idea that he was watching. Recording.

Gathering evidence. Soon, very soon, Desmond would come back from the dead. And when he did, Monica’s whole world would come crashing down.

Sunday evening came slowly. Desmond had barely slept. He kept thinking about what he would see tonight.

His wife and another man. In his house. In his bed.

Part of him wanted to stop watching. Part of him wanted to just walk away from all of this and start a new life somewhere else. But he couldn’t.

He needed to see the truth. All of it. At seven o’clock, Desmond opened the camera app on his phone.

Monica was in the master bedroom getting ready. She had showered and was now standing in front of the mirror in a red silk robe. The one Desmond had bought her for their fifth anniversary.

She was putting on makeup. Not the simple, natural kind she usually wore. This was different.

Darker lipstick. More eye shadow. She was making herself beautiful for someone else.

Desmond’s heart ached but he kept watching. Monica sprayed perfume on her neck and wrists. Then she went to the closet and pulled out a black dress.

Tight, elegant and revealing. She had never worn it for Desmond. He didn’t even know she owned it.

At exactly eight o’clock the doorbell rang. Monica’s face lit up with excitement. She practically ran down the stairs, her high heels clicking on the marble floor.

She opened the door and there he was. Elijah Morrison. He was tall, taller than Desmond, with broad shoulders and a confident smile.

He wore expensive clothes and held a bottle of wine in one hand and flowers in the other. Hello beautiful, Elijah said smoothly. Monica didn’t even respond with words…

She just pulled him inside closed the door and kissed him. Right there in the entrance hall. Under the chandelier that Desmond had bought.

On the floor where Desmond had carried Monica over the threshold on their wedding day. The kiss was long and passionate. Nothing like the cold, quick pecks Monica used to give Desmond.

When they finally pulled apart, Elijah looked around the mansion with approval. So this is all yours now? He asked. Ours? Monica corrected with a smile.

Everything here is ours baby. The house, the cars, the money, all of it. Elijah grinned.

I have to admit when we first started planning this, I wasn’t sure it would actually work. But you were right. Desmond was so predictable.

So trusting. Planning this, there was again, confirmation that they had planned for Desmond to die. I told you, Monica said, leading Elijah into the living room.

I’ve been studying him for years. He followed the same routine every single day. I knew exactly how to make it look like an accident.

Desmond’s blood ran cold. Make it look like an accident? What did that mean? They sat on the couch, Desmond’s couch, and Elijah poured wine into two glasses. Tell me again, Elijah said with a smile.

Tell me how you planned it. Monica laughed and took a sip of wine. You want to hear the story again? You’re terrible.

I just love hearing how smart you are, Elijah said kissing her neck. Monica giggled, actually giggled, and began talking. Okay so, Desmond always drove himself on long business trips.

He liked the quiet time to think. So I knew that if something happened on one of those drives, it would look natural. An accident.

No one would question it. Desmond leaned closer to his phone, his heart pounding. I started researching car accidents, Monica continued.

How they happen. What causes them. And then I found someone who could help.

Who? Elijah asked. A mechanic. Someone who owed me a favor.

I had him check Desmond’s car a few weeks ago. Just a routine maintenance or so Desmond thought. But really the mechanic was, adjusting things.

Adjusting things? Elijah repeated fascinated. The brakes? Monica said simply. He made it so they would fail after a certain amount of driving.

Not immediately, that would be too suspicious. But after about two hours on the highway the brake fluid would leak out completely. Desmond wouldn’t be able to stop the car.

Desmond felt like he couldn’t breathe. His wife had tampered with his car. She had tried to kill him.

If he had actually driven that car on a real business trip, he would have crashed. He would have died. The fake death had saved his real life.

That’s brilliant, Elijah said clearly impressed. And when the accident happened no one would suspect anything. Just a tragic accident.

A widow left behind with a fortune. Exactly, Monica said proudly. And the best part? Desmond had no idea.

He trusted me completely. He never checked his car. He never questioned anything.

So when the police called and said there was an accident, Elijah said slowly, you must have been shocked that it actually happened so soon. Monica nodded enthusiastically. I was.

I thought it would take another week or two. But when they called and said his car crashed and burned on the highway I couldn’t believe our luck. Everything worked out perfectly.

She raised her glass. To perfect accidents. Elijah clinked his glass against hers.

To perfect accidents. And to us. They drank and then Elijah set down his glass and looked at Monica seriously.

So when can we start moving the money, he asked. 60 days, Monica said with a sigh. His stupid lawyer said the will has some kind of freeze on it.

Everything is locked for 60 days. Desmond must have added that clause recently. Maybe he was getting paranoid.

Can we break the freeze? Elijah asked. I don’t think so. Not without raising suspicion.

But it’s fine. 60 days will go by fast. And in the meantime, Monica smiled wickedly.

We can start planning our new life together. Where do you want to go? Elijah asked pulling her closer. Somewhere far away.

Maybe Europe. Paris maybe. Or Italy.

Somewhere we can live in luxury and never think about this boring city again. What about Desmond’s sister? Grace. Elijah asked.

Won’t she be suspicious if you leave the country so soon? Monica waved her hand dismissively. Grace is easy to handle. I’ll tell her I need time to heal.

That being in this house is too painful. She’ll understand. She might even encourage me to travel.

You’re so smart, Elijah said admiringly. I know, Monica replied with a confident smile. Desmond wanted to throw his phone across the room.

He wanted to scream. His wife hadn’t just been unfaithful. She hadn’t just waited for him to die.

She had actively tried to murder him. She had sabotaged his car. She had planned his death.

And now she was sitting in his house drinking his wine celebrating with her lover. There’s one more thing we need to discuss, Elijah said, his tone becoming more serious. What? Monica asked.

The company. Desmond’s company. It’s worth millions.

But you can’t run it alone. You don’t know anything about business. Monica frowned.

I know. I’ve been thinking about that. I have a solution, Elijah said smoothly.

Sell it. Sell the whole company. There are plenty of people who would pay top dollar for a successful business like Desmond’s.

We could make at least 30 or 40 million from the sale alone. Sell the company Desmond built? Monica said thoughtfully. That feels final.

That’s the point, Elijah said. We need to close this chapter completely. Sell everything.

The company this house the cars. Turn it all into cash. Then we disappear and start fresh somewhere else.

New names new lives. No connections to Desmond Adams at all. Monica thought about this for a moment then slowly smiled.

You’re right. Let’s burn it all down and start over. That’s my girl, Elijah said kissing her.

They talked for another hour about their plans. Where they would live. What they would buy.

How they would spend Desmond’s money. They talked about Desmond like he was nothing. Like he had been just an obstacle in their path.

A problem they had solved. Finally around 11 o’clock, Monica stood up and took Elijah’s hand. Come on, she said with a playful smile.

Let me show you the bedroom. Desmond closed the app immediately. He couldn’t watch that.

He wouldn’t. He sat in the dark apartment shaking with rage and pain. His wife had tried to kill him.

She had sabotaged his car hoping he would crash and die. And when she thought her plan had worked, she invited her lover into their home to celebrate. But there was something Monica didn’t know.

Something that would change everything. The mechanic she mentioned. The one who supposedly adjusted his brakes.

Desmond knew all his mechanics. He knew everyone who touched his cars. And he knew for a fact that no one had tampered with them.

Which meant Monica had paid someone to sabotage a car. But because Desmond had switched to a different car for his fake death plan, the sabotaged car was probably still sitting in his garage. Evidence.

Physical evidence of attempted murder. Desmond grabbed his phone and called Grace immediately. Grace, he said urgently when she answered.

I need you to do something. Tonight. Right now.

What is it? Grace asked hearing the intensity in his voice. Go to the mansion. But don’t go to the front door.

Monica has… company. Go to the garage. My silver car, the one I usually drive for long trips.

I need you to take pictures of the brake system. Every angle. Close up.

Everything. What? What’s going on? Monica admitted she hired someone to sabotage my brakes. She tried to kill me Grace.

She thought the fake accident was her plan working. That car in the garage is evidence of attempted murder. Grace was quiet for a moment.

Oh my god Desmond. She really tried to… she actually… I know. Can you do it? Can you get those pictures tonight? Yes.

Yes I’ll go right now. I’ll be careful. Monica won’t even know I was there.

Thank you. And Grace? Record everything. If you can get into the house somehow set up more cameras.

I need to document everything she does. I’ll handle it. You just… please take care of yourself.

This is getting dangerous. After hanging up, Desmond sat back and took a deep breath. The test was revealing more than he ever imagined.

Monica wasn’t just disloyal. She wasn’t just greedy. She was a murderer.

Or at least she had tried to be. And now Desmond had to decide how far would he let this go before he revealed himself. How much more could he watch before he broke? He looked at his phone.

The camera app was still there ready to show him whatever else Monica and Elijah were doing. But Desmond couldn’t bring himself to look. Not tonight.

Tonight he just sat in the darkness mourning the woman he thought he had married. Mourning the love that had never been real. Tomorrow he would watch again.

He would gather more evidence. He would wait for the perfect moment to reveal the truth. But tonight Desmond just grieved for the life he had lost.

Even though he was still alive. Grace moved quickly through the dark streets her heart pounding. It was past midnight now and the city was quiet.

She drove to the Addams mansion with her headlights off as she got closer. Not wanting to attract attention. She parked a block away and walked the rest of the distance staying in the shadows…

The mansion rose before her like a castle. All its windows dark except for one. The master bedroom on the second floor.

Grace felt sick knowing what was happening in that room. Her brother’s wife in her brother’s bed with another man. While everyone thought Desmond was dead and buried.

She pushed the thought away. Focus Grace. You have a job to do.

Grace had a key to the side entrance. Desmond had given it to her years ago for emergencies. She used it now slipping quietly into the house through the door that led directly to the garage.

The garage was huge big enough for six cars. Right now it held four. Desmond’s silver sedan Monica’s red sports car, a black SUV, and a vintage car that Desmond rarely drove.

Grace pulled out her phone and turned on the flashlight app keeping the light low. She walked to the silver sedan. The car Desmond usually drove on long business trips.

The car Monica had sabotaged. Grace lay down on the cold garage floor and slid under the car. She had watched enough crime shows to know where the brakes were.

She took picture after picture dozens of them from every angle. Even with her limited knowledge, Grace could see something was wrong. There was a small cut in one of the brake lines.

Not a natural wear and tear. A deliberate cut designed to leak slowly over time. Monica had really done it.

She had tried to murder Desmond. Grace felt anger burning in her chest as she took more photos. Then she crawled out from under the car and photographed the outside too, including the license plate and the vehicle identification number.

Evidence. Solid, undeniable evidence. As she was finishing, Grace heard something.

Footsteps. Someone was coming down the stairs from the main house. Grace quickly turned off her phone light and hid behind the black SUV, her heart racing.

The door from the house opened and Monica walked in wearing only Desmond’s silk bathrobe. She was on her phone laughing softly. No baby I’m just getting some water from the kitchen, Monica said into the phone.

She must have called Elijah from downstairs. I’ll be right back up. Don’t fall asleep without me.

Monica walked right past the garage entrance toward the kitchen. Grace held her breath not moving a muscle. After what felt like forever, Monica returned with a bottle of water and went back upstairs, still talking sweetly on her phone.

Grace waited another five minutes to make sure Monica was really gone, then she quietly let herself out of the side door and walked quickly back to her car. Once she was safely inside she called Desmond. I got them, she said as soon as he answered.

The photos. You were right Desmond. The brake line is cut.

It’s clear as day. This is evidence of attempted murder. Send them to me right now, Desmond said his voice tight.

And send copies to yourself too. Save them in multiple places. We can’t lose this evidence.

I will. Desmond this is serious. Monica didn’t just wish you were dead.

She tried to make it happen. When this comes out. When this comes out she’ll go to prison, Desmond finished.

Along with whoever she paid to cut those brakes. And Elijah too if he was involved in the planning. What do we do now? Grace asked.

We wait, Desmond said. I know it’s hard but we need more. I want to see how far she’ll go.

Tomorrow I need you to do something else for me. What? Find out who Elijah Morrison really is. Where he works.

His background. Everything. If he helped Monica plan this I want to know who he is and how they met.

I’ll start first thing in the morning, Grace promised. After they hung up, Grace sat in her car for a long moment looking at the mansion. From the outside it looked so peaceful.

So perfect. But inside terrible things were happening. Her brother was alive, but he was living like a ghost watching his own life fall apart.

And his wife, the woman who had promised to love and protect him, had become his worst enemy. Grace started her car and drove home, already planning her next move. The business deal.

Over the next two weeks Monica moved fast. Faster than Desmond expected. She wasn’t wasting any time pretending to grieve.

Every day, Desmond watched through the cameras as Monica made phone calls, sent emails and met with people. She was selling everything. First she contacted Desmond’s business partner, Mr. Richard Chin, and told him she wanted to sell her shares of the company.

I can’t run it alone, Monica had told Mr. Chin. Tears in her eyes, fake tears Desmond knew. It’s too painful.

Everywhere I look I see Desmond. I need a fresh start. Mr. Chin who was a kind man in his 60s had felt sorry for her.

I understand Mrs. Adams. Take your time. There’s no rush.

But Monica had rushed. Within a week she had arranged to sell her controlling shares for $35 million. The deal would close as soon as the 60 day will freeze ended.

$35 million. For a company that Desmond had built from scratch. A company he had poured his heart and soul into for 20 years.

And Monica was selling it without a second thought. But that wasn’t all. Desmond watched as Monica contacted a real estate agent about selling the mansion.

I want to move, Monica told the agent, a sharp woman in a business suit. This house has too many memories. I need something smaller.

Simpler. Lies. All lies.

Monica didn’t want something smaller. She wanted to turn the mansion into cash so she could run away with Elijah. The agent valued the mansion at $22 million.

She said she could have it sold within 3 months. Monica had smiled. Perfect.

Let’s start the process. Desmond felt like he was watching someone tear apart his entire life, piece by piece. And through it all, Elijah was always there.

He came to the mansion almost every night now. Sometimes he stayed until morning. They didn’t even try to hide it anymore.

Why would they? Everyone thought Desmond was dead. Grace had done research on Elijah Morrison, and what she found made Desmond even angrier. Elijah wasn’t a successful businessman like he pretended to be.

He was a con artist. A professional liar who had been married twice before. Both times to wealthy women.

Both marriages had ended in divorce with Elijah walking away with millions. Now he was doing the same thing with Monica. Except this time he didn’t have to wait for a divorce.

He just had to wait for a death. He’s using her, Grace had told Desmond over the phone. Monica thinks they’re partners but Elijah has done this before.

He finds rich women, makes them fall in love with him and then takes their money. So they’re using each other, Desmond had replied bitterly. Monica is using me and Elijah is using Monica.

It’s perfect. But Desmond had a plan. He had been patient for weeks now watching and recording everything.

Now he had hundreds of hours of footage. Videos of Monica and Elijah together. Recordings of their conversations about stealing his money.

Photos of the sabotaged break line. Bank records showing Monica trying to access his frozen accounts. Evidence.

Mountains of evidence. And Desmond had decided, it was almost time to reveal himself. But not yet.

There was one more thing he needed to see. According to Monica’s conversations with Elijah, they were planning something special. An engagement party.

Exactly 40 days after Desmond’s death. It’s traditional in some cultures to have a mourning period of 40 days. Monica had told Elijah with a laugh.

After that I’m officially free to move on. We’ll announce our engagement at a small party. Nothing too big, we don’t want to look disrespectful.

Just close friends. 40 days. A symbolic ending to her fake mourning.

Desmond had circled the date on his calendar. That would be the night. The night he came back from the dead.

The night he destroyed Monica’s lies in front of everyone. Three weeks after the funeral, Desmond got a call from his lawyer, Mr. Harrison. Grace had given him the number to Desmond’s secret phone.

Mr. Adams, Mr. Harrison said, his voice serious. I’m glad you answered. We need to talk.

Urgently. What’s wrong? Desmond asked. It’s your wife.

She’s been coming to my office almost every day trying to break the 60-day freeze on your will. She’s getting aggressive about it. What is she saying? She claims she needs money for expenses.

She says she can’t pay the mansion’s bills without access to your accounts. But Mr. Adams I’ve checked the accounts. You set up automatic payments for all the household expenses.

Everything is being paid. She doesn’t need additional money. Then what does she want the money for? Desmond asked though he already knew the answer.

I believe she wants to access the liquid assets. The cash and investments. She’s asked me multiple times about transferring large sums to her personal account.

Have you let her? Absolutely not. The will is very clear. Everything is frozen for 60 days from the date of your death.

After that as your widow she inherits everything according to the terms you set. But until then I cannot and will not release any funds. Good, Desmond said firmly.

Don’t give her anything. Not a single dollar. There’s something else, Mr. Harrison continued, his voice dropping lower…

Mrs. Adams brought someone with her to the last meeting. A man named Elijah Morrison. She introduced him as a family friend who was helping her with business matters.

But the way he spoke the questions he asked. Mr. Adams I don’t trust him. What kind of questions? He wanted to know exactly how much you were worth.

He asked about the company shares, the properties, the investments. He even asked if there were any ways to contest the 60 day freeze. He claimed it was unfair to make a widow wait for her inheritance.

Desmond’s jaw tightened. What did you tell him? I told him the will is legally binding and cannot be changed. I also told him that I only discuss estate matters with family members, not family friends.

He didn’t like that. Thank you for protecting my estate, Mr. Harrison. Of course.

But Mr. Adams I have to ask, and please understand this is difficult for me, but is there any chance your wife was involved in your accident? The way she’s acting, the urgency for money, this man she’s brought around. It doesn’t seem like normal widow behavior. Desmond paused.

Mr. Harrison was smart. He was seeing the truth without even knowing Desmond was alive. Let me ask you something, Mr. Harrison.

If I could prove that someone tried to harm me for money, what would happen to their inheritance? There was silence on the other end for a moment. If you could prove attempted murder or conspiracy to murder, the person would be disqualified from inheriting anything. In fact, they would face criminal charges.

Mr. Adams, are you saying? I’m saying keep the freeze in place. Don’t let Monica or anyone else access my estate and document every interaction you have with her and Mr. Morrison. Write down everything they say, every question they ask.

It might be important later. I will. And Mr. Adams, I’m very glad you called.

This situation has been troubling me greatly. After hanging up, Desmond felt a small sense of satisfaction. Even people who didn’t know the truth were starting to see through Monica’s act.

The 60-day freeze was brilliant. It had been a last-minute decision, something Desmond added to his will just days before his fake death. At the time he didn’t fully understand why he felt the need for it.

It was just instinct. A feeling that he needed to protect himself. Now he understood.

That instinct had been right. If Monica had immediate access to his money, she would have transferred it all offshore within days. By the time Desmond revealed himself, the money would be gone, hidden in accounts he could never trace.

But the freeze stopped her. It forced her to wait. And waiting made her desperate.

And desperate people made mistakes. Monica was making mistakes now. Bringing Elijah to the lawyer’s office.

Asking suspicious questions. Moving too fast with selling the company and the house. She thought she was being smart but she was actually building her own prison brick by brick.

And Desmond was counting every brick. The days passed slowly for Desmond. Each morning he woke up in the small apartment that had become his prison.

Each day he watched Monica through the cameras, seeing her live the life she had always wanted. A life without him. Monica had changed.

Without Desmond around she became a different person. She laughed more. She smiled more.

She seemed lighter, freer, happier. It hurt to watch. But Desmond kept watching anyway.

He saw her redecorate the bedroom, taking down photos of their wedding and replacing them with modern art. She threw away his clothes, his books, his favorite coffee mug, erasing him from the house piece by piece. She went shopping almost every day buying new clothes, new jewelry, new furniture.

She spent money like water, using the credit cards that were still active for household expenses. And every night Elijah came over. They would have dinner together, expensive dinners with wine and candles.

They would sit on the balcony and talk about their future. They would make plants. I’m thinking we should go to Paris first, Monica said one evening.

Desmond watched through the balcony camera as she leaned against Elijah’s shoulder. I’ve always wanted to live in Paris. Paris it is, Elijah agreed kissing her forehead.

We can buy an apartment near the Eiffel Tower. Wake up every morning to that view. With Desmond’s money, we can buy ten apartments if we want, Monica laughed.

They talked about Desmond like he was a bank account. Not a person. Not someone who had loved Monica with his whole heart.

Just money. Grace visited Desmond every few days bringing him food and updates. She looked tired and sad.

Pretending to support Monica while knowing the truth was draining her. I can’t stand being around her, Grace admitted one afternoon, sitting in Desmond’s small apartment. Every time she cries those fake tears or talks about how much she misses you, I want to scream the truth.

I want to tell everyone what she really is. Soon, Desmond promised. Just a few more weeks.

The engagement party is in ten days. That’s when we end this. Are you ready? Grace asked studying her brother’s face.

He looked thinner now with dark circles under his eyes. Desmond this has taken a toll on you. Maybe we should just go to the police now.

We have enough evidence. No, Desmond said firmly. I want everyone to see.

Not just the police. I want her friends, her family, Elijah’s face when I walk into that room. I want it all to be public.

She humiliated me by pretending to love me for seven years. Now everyone will see who she really is. Grace nodded slowly.

Okay. Then let’s make sure everything is perfect. They spent the next hour going over the plan.

Grace would attend the engagement party of course. She would bring a camera crew, telling Monica it was to record the happy occasion. But really, it would capture Desmond’s return.

Dr. Paul would be there too, ready to provide the medical documentation proving that Desmond’s death had been faked with his help. His testimony would be crucial. And Desmond’s lawyer, Mr. Harrison, would arrive with police officers, ready to freeze Monica’s assets permanently and file criminal charges.

Everything was planned. Every detail accounted for. The invitations went out yesterday, Grace told Desmond.

Monica invited about 50 people. Close friends, some business associates, a few distant relatives. She’s calling it a celebration of new beginnings.

A celebration of new beginnings, Desmond repeated bitterly. More like a celebration of my death. She also hired a party planner, Grace continued.

The whole thing is going to be at the mansion, in the ballroom. She’s spending thousands of dollars on decorations, catering, music, all being charged to your accounts as memorial expenses. Desmond shook his head in disbelief.

She’s throwing a party to celebrate her engagement to another man, and she’s using my money to pay for it. That’s not all, Grace said quietly. I saw the dress she bought.

It’s white, Desmond. She’s wearing white to her engagement party. Like a bride.

Desmond felt his hands curl into fists. Monica was mocking everything they had shared. Their marriage.

Their vows. Their life together. But soon very soon the mockery would end.

The engagement party begins. The night of the party arrived. It was exactly 40 days since Desmond’s death.

A warm Saturday evening with clear skies and a full moon. Desmond sat in his apartment, dressed in a sharp black suit. The same suit he had worn to his own wedding.

He wanted Monica to remember that day. Remember the promises she had made. Remember what she had destroyed.

Grace called him at 7 o’clock. The party is starting. People are arriving.

Are you ready? I’m ready, Desmond said, his voice steady despite his racing heart. Dr. Paul is here with me. The police are waiting outside in unmarked cars.

Mr. Harrison has all the documents. Everything is set. How does Monica look? Desmond asked.

Grace was quiet for a moment. She looks beautiful. And happy.

Happier than I’ve ever seen her. She’s glowing, Desmond. She really thinks she’s won.

Good, Desmond said coldly. That will make the fall even harder. Through his phone, Desmond watched the security camera feeds.

The ballroom of his mansion had been transformed. White flowers everywhere. Candles on every table.

Soft music playing from a string quartet. Guests filled the room all dressed elegantly. They held champagne glasses and chatted pleasantly.

Most of them looked slightly uncomfortable. After all, it was a bit soon for the widow to be celebrating. But they came anyway probably out of curiosity.

And there in the center of it all, stood Monica in her white dress. It was elegant and flowing with diamonds sewn into the fabric that caught the light. She looked like a princess…