He Let His Mistress Kill My Mother,Then His Dead

I was shopping at the mall with my mother when my husband, Milton Morton, suddenly sent me nine intimate, nude photos. "Babe, I miss you." I was about to tease him for being inappropriate when the final photo loaded. A woman lay sprawled beside a hot spring, her hair matted to her face with blood. Her clothes were torn, and her exposed skin was covered in dark purple bruises. The smile froze on my face. Before I could process what I was seeing, the final photo was unsent. A message from Milton immediately popped up. "Wrong photo. Don't worry about it." I gripped my phone, about to call him, when an unknown number rang first. It was Genevieve Chavez, Milton's secretary. Her voice was sweet, almost playful, but the arrogance underneath it was unmistakable. "Gayle Simmons, you saw the photo, didn't you? Your mother had the nerve to come to the Morton estate and pick a fight with me. This is what she got for it." "The moment she walked in, she demanded to know who I was and told me to get out. What? You couldn't keep your own husband, so you sent your mother to fight your battles for you?" She gave a soft laugh. "Milton told me himself that I have every right to be here." For a moment, I couldn't speak. Then I slowly lifted my head. My mother was standing just a few feet away, perfectly fine, trying on a designer dress in front of the mirror. Without saying a word, I opened the screenshot I had taken before Milton deleted the photo and zoomed in. There, just below the woman's ear, was a familiar mole. My breath caught. That wasn't my mother. It was Milton's mother. I called Milton immediately. The moment he answered, he let out an impatient snort. "Gayle Simmons, have you lost your mind? Genevieve's still upset. Tell your mother to go apologize to her, and I'll convince Genevieve not to pursue this any further." My fingers tightened around the phone. I stared at the battered woman in the screenshot, then at my mother standing safely across from me. And suddenly, everything became painfully clear. Milton wasn't just cheating on me. He had given Genevieve enough confidence to attack a woman she believed was my mother. And even after believing my mother had been beaten bloody, his first reaction was still to defend his mistress and demand an apology from the victim. I slowly lowered the phone, a cold smile forming on my lips. Since Milton was so determined to protect Genevieve, I wasn't going to ruin the surprise for him. …… Milton listened, and there wasn't a trace of fear in his voice. "Gayle Simmons, I'll be honest with you. Genevieve and I have been together for three years now." "Three years ago, while you were lying on that operating table, I was actually with her in an ocean-view suite, watching the stars." The knuckles gripping my phone went white, inch by inch. Three years ago, I was in a car accident, close to death, needing surgery immediately, and at that critical moment I couldn't reach Milton. He said he was in the middle of a make-or-break deal and couldn't get away. I believed him. I signed the surgical consent form alone and went into the operating room. So it turned out that night he wasn't killing himself over work. He was in the Maldives, watching the stars with another woman. Something sour churned up in my stomach. I clenched my teeth. "Milton, your cheating is a fact, but Mom is really in danger right now. If you don't get her to a hospital, you'll regret it." "Regret it?" Milton scoffed. "Gayle Simmons, let me tell you, I've wanted to do this for a long time." "Last time your mom came marching into my office and set a humidifier on my desk, and it triggered Genevieve's allergic rhinitis right there on the spot." "What, does she think my company is her turf too? Should I expect her to sit down in my chair next and start running the place?" My whole body went rigid, and the anger surged up. "My mom did that for you—" "For me? Or to satisfy that pathetic little need of hers to control everything?" Milton sneered, his voice ice cold. "You and your mother both know exactly what it is. You're just leaning on some old favor from years ago, aren't you?" "She taught me for a few years, cooked me a few meals, and now she thinks she gets to ride my neck and boss me around for the rest of my life?" I clenched my fists so hard my nails almost dug into my palms. My mom was his high school teacher. She taught him for three whole years. Back when his business failed and he was buried in debt, out on the streets, it was my mom who took him home off a curb late one night. She treated him like her own son. She knew he was allergic to dust, that every change of season he'd cough all night and couldn't sleep. So she quietly used her own retirement savings to buy the best humidifier there was, carried it all the way to his office, and, afraid he'd feel he owed her, set it down and left without a word. But now, in Milton's mouth, this old woman who'd treated him like her own son had become some boundary-crossing, small-minded social climber who deserved to be put in her place. "Enough! Milton!" I was shaking all over, my voice forced out through my teeth. "If you don't like that humidifier, you could have just said so to her face. There's no need to smile at her and stab her behind her back! And there's certainly no need to let Genevieve lay a hand on her!" Milton's laugh was full of contempt. "Gayle Simmons, the old bag disrespected Genevieve. So Genevieve knocked her around a little, so what? She had it coming, all of it!" "I don't have time to go back and forth with you over this nonsense. You're wasting the time I'm spending planning my mother's welcome dinner." With that, Milton hung up. I gripped the phone hard, and the screen flashed. Genevieve was calling on video. "Gayle Simmons." Genevieve's face was pure triumph. "Talking to Milton is useless. Even if I beat your mom to death today, he won't blame me." "You wouldn't dare!" I ground out through my teeth. "What wouldn't I dare?" She looked down at the woman curled up on the floor, her face covered in blood, and swung her leg into a kick. "Ah, ah—" The woman on the ground let out a raw, hoarse cry, her wailing coming in broken bursts, her whole body rolling half over from the force of it. Genevieve's voice was mocking. "Gayle Simmons, I'd suggest you hurry back, or you might not make it in time to see your mom one last time." I stared hard at the necklace that had slipped out from around the woman's neck. It was the birthday gift I'd given my mother-in-law the year I got married. I was sure now. That was Milton's mother. Listening to the wailing on the phone grow fainter and fainter, fury burned through me. "Genevieve, you're going to regret what you've done today!" "I'll never regret it." Genevieve looked completely indifferent, pleased with herself. "After all, Milton signed off on all of it. He's hated your mom for a long time. I just did the thing he never got around to doing." Genevieve curled her lips. "If anything, instead of worrying about me, you should be worrying about whether Milton's going to throw you out on the street." The call ended. I stood where I was, every limb of me shaking. A long while later, I saw a new post from Milton. "My mother returns from London today. A dinner will be held this evening at the hot-spring resort. Friends, honor us with your presence as we welcome her home." Genevieve liked it in an instant, leaving a bright red heart. In the end, I gently tapped a like too, then wrote three words in the comments: "Can't wait either." Milton had been separated from his family as a child. His mother was someone he'd found again the year we got engaged, and he treasured her beyond words. If he knew that the face he'd kicked into a bloody pulp with his own doing was the very mother he'd been longing to welcome home— I gave a small smile, then booked the earliest flight. Before long the plane landed, and I was standing at the entrance of the hot-spring resort.

The hot-spring resort was packed with people, and beside them the gifts Milton had gathered for his mother were piled into a small mountain. The moment the guests saw me, a flicker of surprise crossed every face at once, expressions hard to read. Milton came forward, one arm around Genevieve's waist, a glass of red wine in hand, the corner of his mouth curling into a sneer. "Gayle, in such a rush to find your dear mother? There, she's over there——" I followed his pointing finger and saw the woman by the pool, drenched in blood, a sight that turned my stomach. My whole body went rigid, and I stumbled toward her. "Mom, how are you?" My mother-in-law had always been good to me, and the sight of her set my insides churning like ants on a hot pan. Her whole face was matted with blood and strands of hair, her features blurred beyond recognition, only broken wisps of breath forcing their way out of her throat. "Save me… save——" My heart pounded wildly, and I fumbled for my phone to call an ambulance. "Oh dear…" Genevieve pretended to lose her balance and knocked the phone clean out of my hand. "Crack——" The screen shattered. She covered her mouth with false regret and apologized. "Ah, so sorry, Gayle. Your phone's broken. Getting the old lady to the hospital will just have to wait." "I know you won't mind, right?" I stared her down and bent to pick up the phone. That was when Milton stamped his foot down on it, his leather shoe grinding hard into the shattered screen. His arm still around Genevieve, his voice was soft enough to drip. "You don't want to take her, then don't. This old woman brought it on herself anyway. Who told her not to know when to quit, forcing her way into the resort to make trouble for you." With that, he ordered the staff to carry the woman on the ground a little farther off, so she wouldn't spoil the party. The attendant had just bent down when he suddenly cried out in terror. "Mr. Morton! She… she… she's not breathing!" Milton's brow creased faintly. He drew Genevieve back half a step, then turned to look at me, the smile on his lips going colder. "Gayle, looks like there's no need to take her to the hospital now. Shame that such an important day had to be soiled by this dead old hag." "Couldn't even die somewhere else. Scared Genevieve half to death. What rotten luck." His face was all impatience, as though what lay on the ground weren't a human life but an ugly stain on the floor of the banquet hall. "Milton, have someone wipe her face clean. Take a good look at who she is before you speak." My voice was hoarse, every word forced out of my chest. Milton frowned and looked away in disgust. "I wouldn't want to look at your mother's face again if my life depended on it. It makes me sick." The housekeeper hurried over at once to back him up, her face full of fawning. "Mr. Morton is right! The resort he bought for Miss Chavez is meant for the woman he loves to rest and enjoy herself. What business does a lowly thing like that have barging in and making a scene?" "This old woman traded on a little old kindness to boss Mr. Morton and Miss Chavez around. She's long overdue for a lesson! And now she's died by the pool. What a jinx!" "If you ask me, dying is exactly what she deserved. Saves us from her using that old favor to ruin things later!" At her words, the blood shot straight to my head, and I was so furious my lips were shaking. I stared hard at that ugly, sneering face of the housekeeper, wanting nothing more than to tear her apart. My mother had been more than kind to this housekeeper, mailing her hometown specialties every year, calling to check in on every holiday, always setting aside a share of anything good for her. And this was the woman who slandered her so viciously behind her back, who turned my mother's kindness into a joke. Rage swallowed my reason, and my voice trembled. "You're all out of your minds! Get her to the hospital now and there might still be a chance to save her, otherwise…" Milton raised an eyebrow and laughed. "Otherwise what? You're going to call the police?" With that he drained his glass and held out the empty one to the side. The housekeeper took it at once, respectfully. "Gayle, you listen to me and listen well." He looked down at me, his voice lazy and cold. "Even if I stood right here and watched her take her last breath, no one could do a thing to me. Understand?" He looked around and raised his voice. "May I ask, did anyone here see us lay a hand on this woman?" The guests caught his meaning and chimed in one after another. "Mr. Morton, we didn't see anything. We only know your mother-in-law forced her way into the resort and humiliated Miss Chavez." "Right, that old woman always loved to boss people around. Ending up like this is what she deserved!" "Even if Miss Chavez did raise a hand, it was to protect herself, to stand up for Mr. Morton. Perfectly understandable!" In no time the praise for Genevieve and Milton rose from every side, as if today they had truly carried out justice on heaven's behalf, ridding the world of some unforgivable criminal. Genevieve shot me a smug glance, then the next second shrank into Milton's arms with a show of injured innocence. "Mr. Morton, but what if Gayle comes after me later because of what happened to her mother today? What then?" Milton patted her shoulder gently. "Don't be afraid. With me here, she wouldn't dare touch you." With that, he ordered someone to hand two documents he'd already prepared to me. A written pledge, and a share-transfer agreement. He looked down at me, his tone icy. "Gayle, this whole thing was your mother's fault to begin with. For Genevieve's safety, and to make up for the fright she got today, you'll transfer every share of every company in your name over to her. Once I'm sure Genevieve is safe, I'll consider giving them back." His voice dropped low, carrying an order that left no room for argument. "Be smart. Sign now, and stop making things hard for Genevieve."

I looked down at those few thin sheets of paper and, out of nowhere, I smiled. Then I lifted my head and looked straight into Milton's eyes. "Milton, are you really so sure the one lying on the ground is my mother?" Milton narrowed his eyes. "Who else would it be? Who do you think it is?" "You can have your housekeeper check whether there's a necklace around her neck. It's the gift I gave your mother when we got engaged." I curved my lips into a slow, meaningful smile. "I hope that once you find it, you won't regret this." Milton went quiet for a moment, and a flicker of unease crossed his eyes. He jerked his chin toward the housekeeper. The housekeeper nodded and hurried over, bending down with obvious reluctance, feeling along the woman's ruined, bloody neck. A few seconds later his face changed completely. He scrambled back, a blood-soaked necklace cradled in his palm, his voice shaking. "Mr. Morton... there really is... there's a necklace..." A fine gold chain, smeared with blood, the pattern I had designed myself engraved on the back. Genevieve's face shifted. Without thinking, she grabbed at Milton's sleeve, her voice trembling. "Milt, this... could this really be your mother...?" "Don't be scared." Milton held her hand tight to steady her, glanced down once, then let out a scornful laugh. "Gayle, I think you really have lost your mind. Have you forgotten? You made two of these back then, identical. One for your mother's neck, one for mine. Now you pull out one of them and try to pass your mother off as mine, so I'll go soft and let her off?" He shook his head, his tone like he was pitying some raving lunatic. "That little trick of yours only fools yourself." The moment he finished, the guests reacted like they'd heard the joke of the century, chattering over one another. "And here I was wondering. Turns out there are two matching necklaces. Gayle didn't actually think that would get her through this, did she?" "To cover for her own greedy old crone, she'll even drag Mr. Morton's real mother into it. Hopeless." "No wonder her mother's dead. Stuck with a daughter who lies through her teeth like that, it'd be a miracle if she lived long." "Mr. Morton better not fall for a cheap trick like this. Gayle will do anything to get what she wants. Women like that are the most dangerous." I clenched my fists until my nails nearly bit into my palms. Milton knew there were two necklaces. What he didn't know was that inside each band I had engraved a different letter. One was marked "M," the other "A." The one on my mother's neck was engraved with an A. And right now, the letter inside the one in the housekeeper's hand, I didn't need to look to know. "Gayle, since you insist on passing your mother off as mine, since you'll stoop to something this low just to squeeze pity out of me, then don't blame me for what comes next." Milton's patience finally ran out. He turned and spoke coldly to the servants behind him. "Go. Bring in the two black dogs tied up at the gate. This wretched, cursed old woman, I'll make a gift of her to them today." Two of the servants went out at once. A moment later, two black hunting dogs were led into the banquet hall. They stared at the ruined, bloody body by the pool, low whines rising in their throats. "Milton!" My head snapped up, my voice tearing itself raw out of my chest. "Do you really have to take it this far?" "Me, take it too far?" Milton turned to look at me, a bitterly cold curve at the corner of his mouth. "Gayle, from the second you walked through that door, you've been using a dead body to threaten me. You want me to feel guilty? You want to watch me break down in tears? Let me tell you, all of this, you people brought it on yourselves." He walked toward me slowly, his voice unhurried. "When your mother was alive, she was like a plaster you couldn't peel off, trading on that scrap of a favor, dropping hints to everyone that Milton Morton only got where he is thanks to her. She liked playing the doting mother, so I had to act it out with her. She liked playing above it all, so I had to let her lecture me about the world. Well, now here she is, lying there, timing her own death to ruin the proudest day of my life." He stopped in front of me, his gaze dropping down, like he was studying a fish gasping its last. "And you, along with her, always suffocating me, always pointing your finger, meddling in my life, my work. I've had enough of it long ago. Now that the old woman's dead, maybe you'll finally settle down." Pain, pain straight to the core, a bitter ache jammed in my throat. When the company was just starting out, to prop him up I did the work of seven people alone, working through the night until it became routine, and drained as I was, I still made him nourishing soup in whatever spare moments I had. Back then his eyes were full of feeling, and he promised to love me for the rest of his life. Now he stood there telling me, over and over, that all of it, in his eyes, was just meddling? I stared at him, my lips trembling, and I couldn't get out a single word. It was then that a familiar voice came from the doorway. "Gayle, who died?"