My Double Kills Me, So My Husband Kills Her

Chapter 10

Hearing Olivia's words, Alexander finally turned to face her.

His eyes were cold. He didn't speak.

Mistaking his silence for forgiveness, Olivia clung to his arm and smiled sweetly, swaying it like a spoiled child.

"Alex, I know you love me," she purred. "But just because someone looks like me doesn't mean she is me."

"You already have the real thing, me. Why hang onto a cheap knockoff? I can give you everything you need."

"Since she's already dead, I'll let this one slide. But from now on, let's just focus on us, okay? Don't break my heart again…"

She thought she was being generous.

She thought he'd be touched.

But Alexander didn't even blink. His expression didn't change.

Instead, he slowly raised a hand and brushed a strand of hair from her cheek, his touch almost gentle.

"Olivia Clark," he said softly, "there's something I forgot to tell you."

"Sophia isn't some mistress."

"She's my wife. And the love of my life."

His voice was calm. Quiet.

But to Olivia, it was like getting hit by a freight train. Her body jerked back as if she'd been slapped, and she stumbled, face draining of color.

Her legs buckled.

She stared at Alexander in horror, lips trembling.

Behind her, her once-loyal friends were already scrambling to distance themselves.

"Mr. Holt, we didn't know! We had no idea she was your wife!" one cried, shaking.

"If we'd known, we would've never touched her, never, even if someone held a gun to our heads!"

"It was all Olivia! She gave every order, we just did what she said!"

"Cutting her hair, stripping her, ripping out her tongue, everything was Olivia's idea! We're innocent!"

The same women who had laughed and cheered during the torture now pointed fingers without hesitation.

Olivia's face twisted in fury. Her voice cracked.

"You bitches were the worst of them all! You took turns kicking her! You burned her hair and laughed while doing it! And now you're blaming it all on me?"

"You pack of backstabbing mutts!"

Her friends snapped back:

"Oh, please. And what does that make you, huh?"

"You think you're still Mr. Holt's darling?"

"In the end, you were nothing but a stand-in."

"You tortured the real Mrs. Holt to death. You think that's something you can walk away from?"

Their voices grew louder, meaner, tearing each other to shreds like rabid dogs, not realizing,

Alexander was no longer listening.

His eyes had turned blood-red.

And there was murder in them.

The night dragged on.

The emergency room buzzed with frantic effort.

Alexander never left the hallway.

He stood there the whole time, motionless, silent, drenched in blood.

Then finally, as dawn broke, the emergency room doors creaked open.

The doctors who emerged froze in place the moment they saw him.

Alexander stood like death itself, covered in blood, pale as a ghost, eyes hollow and wild.

At his feet lay a heap of bodies.

Olivia and the others.

Twisted, broken, and lifeless. Their eyes still wide in horror.

Their deaths hadn't been quick.

The doctors dropped to their knees in terror.

"Mr. Holt," one of them whispered, voice shaking, "she's… she's gone. There's nothing more we can do…"

Not a single muscle in Alexander's face moved.

He didn't even look at them.

He walked straight past, into the ER, where her body still lay.

Sophia.

He approached the bed, slow and reverent, like stepping into sacred ground.

Gently, he reached out and brushed her hair back from her face. His hand lingered on her cheek, trembling slightly.

Then he lifted her into his arms with infinite care, like she was made of glass, like she was still breathing.

He walked to the window.

The wind was soft outside. The sky a soft, bleeding pink.

Holding her close, he pressed his forehead to hers and whispered:

"Sophia… I told you I'd protect you, always."

"No matter where you go… I'll follow."

And with that, Alexander stepped forward,

And vanished with her from the 18th floor.