ManyWriters

I got promoted and received a raise, becoming the head of a department at the hospital.
We've had quite a few patients lately, many of them married women.
They all share one thing in common: gynecological issues.
Until one day, I received an urgent phone call.
It turned out my husband's mistress was gravely ill and desperately needed my help to save her life.
Faced with this situation, I coldly refused.
Until the mistress died on the operating table.
The killer, shockingly, was my husband.

The Lover Dies on the Operating Table, the Killer is My Husband

I have obsessive-compulsive disorder and can't stand things being out of place. As I reached out to straighten some items, a photo fell out.


The person in the photo was Felicity. There was a line of text on the back.


"My heart is a lonely island, and you are the only lighthouse! You make me lose my way, yet I'm willing to be lost!"


The handwriting was familiar, and the words of confession made me feel like I'd fallen into an icy pit.


Soren had told me he'd never been in a relationship before.


Overwhelmed by a tidal wave of anger, I ran out, leaving Soren anxiously searching for me in the study.


I went to the hospital and kept myself busy all afternoon. Soren called me several times, but I didn't answer.


I put my phone on silent. When it was time to leave work, he sent me a message: "I'm having dinner with friends tonight. I'll send you the address and time."


Chapter 7