My Husband Smiled When The Doctor Gave Me 48 Hours To Live — So I Used My Final Days To Set The Perfect Trap
Part 1
I stared at the discolored water stains on the hospital ceiling while the monitor beeped out the failing rhythm of my heart.
Dr. Brian stood at the foot of my bed with a heavy silver clipboard pressed against his chest.
His voice dropped to a somber whisper as he explained that my kidneys and liver were completely shutting down.
He adjusted his thick spectacles and gave me exactly forty-eight hours to live.
Two days remained until my body would completely surrender to the unknown illness.
Greg gripped the metal bedrail with both hands and kept his head bowed toward the linoleum floor.
My husband of eight years wore his finest tailored suit to hear the news of my impending death.
Brenda placed a steady hand on his shoulder.
My mother-in-law wore a perfectly pressed gray cardigan and maintained a completely blank expression.
Dr. Brian excused himself to give our family some much-needed privacy.
His rubber soles squeaked against the polished floor as he stepped out into the bustling hallway.
The heavy wooden door clicked shut and sealed us inside.
Silence thickened the sterile air in the small room.
The only sound came from the rhythmic hum of the oxygen machine beside my pillow.
Greg slowly lifted his head.
I searched his familiar face for tears or any sign of genuine grief.
I looked for the man who had promised to love me in sickness and in health.
The corners of his mouth twitched upward.
A slow and deliberate smile spread across his handsome features.
It was definitely not a smile of comfort or brave reassurance.
It was a smile of pure and unadulterated relief.
Brenda patted his shoulder once more before stepping back toward the large glass window.
Greg leaned down until his face hovered mere inches from my own.
His breath smelled faintly of stale black coffee and peppermint.
He pressed his lips close to my ear.
“Only two days.”
The words slipped from his mouth in a venomous whisper.
“Your house and your money are mine now.”
My blood turned to absolute ice beneath my skin.
A fever burned through my veins but a deep chill settled firmly into my bones.
He straightened his posture and smoothed the front of his expensive wool jacket.
I had paid for that jacket with money from my own real estate business.
He patted my limp hand with his dry fingers.
“We should let you rest for the big day tomorrow.”
He chuckled softly and adjusted his silk tie.
“Last day, rather.”
Brenda stepped away from the window and crossed her arms over her chest.
Her cold gray eyes swept over my frail and broken body.
“It is a blessing.”
She adjusted the heavy strap of her designer leather handbag.
“You have been suffering for so incredibly long.”
They turned their backs on me and walked confidently toward the door.
They assumed my illness made me too weak to hear their hushed voices.
“We need to call the estate agents first thing in the morning.”
Brenda reached for the silver door handle.
“The main house will fetch at least two million on the current market.”
Greg checked his silver wristwatch and nodded in agreement.
“We can keep the coastal cottage as a rental property.”
The heavy door swung open and shut behind them.
Their brisk footsteps faded rapidly down the sterile hospital corridor.
I stopped counting the brown ceiling tiles above my head.
I started counting the long years I had wasted on a man who saw me as nothing but a bank account.
Eight years of paying for his luxurious lifestyle and endless expensive hobbies.
Six years of housing his mother after she claimed she had nowhere else to go.
One entire year of drinking Brenda’s special herbal health supplements every single morning.
My hands balled into tight fists against the thin white hospital sheets.
The bitter and metallic taste of those daily drinks flooded my memory.
My health had started failing the exact same week she began preparing them in my kitchen.
She had kept the ingredients locked away in her bedroom and never allowed me to see the packaging.
The pieces of the horrific puzzle slammed together with sickening clarity.
They had poisoned me slowly to avoid raising any suspicion from the doctors.
They had drained my life away drop by drop while pretending to care for me.
I reached out for my mobile phone resting on the plastic bedside table.
My arm felt like it was made of solid lead.
My trembling fingers brushed the smooth screen once before I finally grasped the device.
I forced my blurry eyes to focus on the bright screen.
I typed a desperate text message to the only person in the world I could still trust.
Megan had cleaned our massive house for six long years.
She operated quietly in the background and saw the things Greg and Brenda thought were completely invisible.
She noticed the locked drawers and overheard the hushed conversations in the kitchen.
I hit send and waited in the suffocating silence of my hospital room.
The screen illuminated the dark room exactly ten minutes later.
Megan promised to sneak into the hospital through the underground delivery entrance.
I had to stay alive long enough to hand her the master keys to my office safe.
I needed her to retrieve the hidden documents before Greg could shred them.
I also needed her to plant the tiny voice recorder I had purchased three weeks ago.
My breathing grew shallow and labored as the monitor continued its steady rhythm.
I squeezed the phone against my chest and closed my eyes.
I had 48 hours to trap the man who was counting down my final breaths.
