He Kills My Mother for Her Beach House

Chapter 4

Then, without so much as a backward glance, Jacob carried Wendy away in his arms.

The guests shook their heads in silent judgment before quietly trickling out one by one.

The once-crowded funeral hall was suddenly deserted.

I clutched my mother's memorial portrait and stared at the empty space around me.

Maybe it was better this way.

I'd wasted too many years clinging to a love that was never real.

My mother's funeral didn't need a room full of hypocrites anyway.

The ceremony ended in chaos, and by nightfall, I was the city's newest laughingstock.

Someone leaked the footage online, and it spread like wildfire.

Now, everyone knew me as Jacob's crazy wife, an unfilial disgrace who lost it at her own mother's funeral.

But I didn't care anymore.

My heart had already gone numb. Nothing could touch me now.

I met with my lawyer, signed the divorce papers, and asked him to investigate my mother's injury and her hospitalization records.

Then I went home to pack my things.

Once the divorce was finalized, this house would no doubt become Jacob and Wendy's new love nest.

I didn't want to leave a single trace of myself behind.

Just the thought of them living here made my stomach turn.

As I sorted through my belongings, I realized just how much of Jacob I'd kept.

An autumn leaf he once handed me absentmindedly. A desk calendar from the day we first met. An old phone filled with our past texts.

Even the fridge held relics of our relationship, a cup of milk tea from our first date, a slice of cake from our engagement party.

Jacob used to say I held onto too much trash.

I always told him they were memories.

But looking at them now… he was right.

They were trash.

I threw everything away.

While clearing out a bookshelf, I stumbled upon a thick, leather-bound photo album, Jacob's.

Out of curiosity, I opened it.

Inside were printed screenshots, pages and pages of text conversations.

All between him and Wendy.

He had saved them. Carefully preserved them. Like they were precious.

Every message dripped with longing:

[Wendy, I married her, but it's always been you.]

[Even when I'm with her, I whisper your name.]

[I never turn on the lights when I sleep with her. It's easier to pretend she's you.]

[I bought you a beach house. After everything that mother and daughter put you through, it's the least I owe you.]

[I want to give you everything I have. I know it's not enough, but please don't push me away.]

[I hate her. She trapped me in this marriage. She's the reason we're not together.]

I closed the album slowly.

A bitter, quiet smile curved my lips.

So Jacob did have a heart.

He just never used it on me.

And this album had been sitting on the shelf the whole time.

I was too blind to see it.

Or maybe he didn't care if I found it.

Maybe he wanted me to.

Maybe he was hoping I'd throw a fit and demand a divorce, make it easier for him to walk away.

Fine. I'd give him exactly what he wanted.

By the time I'd tossed out every last piece of our so-called love, it was already late.

I signed the divorce papers and called him.

He didn't pick up at first. When he finally answered, he hung up without a word.

So I sent him a message:

[Can you come home? There's something I need to discuss with you.]

Thirty minutes later, my phone rang.

His voice was sharp, furious.

"Juliana, Wendy's injured and you're still calling me home? What the hell is wrong with you? Are you really this heartless? This petty?"