4
When the interview began, people from other wards crowded around to watch the spectacle. Alex and Isabe lle were internet famous now. Some people online had even pointed out that Alex was married, but thei
shippers didn’t care.
They insisted Alex and Isabelle were the perfect match, and I was some scheming woman who had trappec him. They even took a photo of me someone had leaked, photoshopped it into a memorial portrait, and
spread it all over the internet.
Through all this, Alex, who updated his social media daily, acted as if he saw nothing. There was even rumor that he had ‘liked‘ one of the posts with my memorial portrait. This drove their fans into a frenzy, conv
inced we were already divorced.
Today’s live interview with Isabelle had been hyped for days. Half the hospital was there to watch. After my
IV drip was done, I asked my nurse to take me.
On the way, I received a text message.
[Mrs. Wilson, I’ve made up my mind. I’ll be your witness.]
I replied with a simple “Okay,” and had the nurse wheel me over to watch my husband’s romantic live show
with another woman.
When we arrived, Isabelle was in the middle of a charming story about how she and Alex were childhood sweethearts who grew up in the same neighborhood. As she spoke of their happy memories, her face flush ed a becoming shade of pink.
Alex watched her with a look of pure, gentle adoration. When they shared a quiet, smiling glance, people ir
the crowd whispered about perfect they were together. The reporter was beaming.
Just as everything was going according to their script, the young intern arrived.
He walked in and began reciting the lines Alex and Isabelle had fed him. But halfway through his confession the police pushed through the crowd.
“Excuse me, are you Ms. Isabelle Ross and Mr. Alex Wilson?”
After confirming their identities, they were slapped in handcuffs.
The cameras captured every moment as the police led them away. At that exact moment, the intern comple- tely flipped his story. He revealed their plot to make him the scapegoat and played a recording he had secre- tly made of their conversation.
Isabelle, still in shock, seemed to finally realize it was all over. She turned to Alex, her eyes brimming with
tears.
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16.17
16:17
Chapter 2
Alex, however, had spotted me in the crowd. He lunged towards me, his hands gripping the arms of my whe-
elchair with bruising force.
“Was this you?” he hissed.
I just gave him a faint smile. What if it was? I was only telling the truth.
After they were taken away, the reporters scrambled to wrap things up.
I wheeled myself forward, took the microphone, and looked at the lead journalist. “This interview was sche- duled for two hours, right? We still have time. Would you like to hear my side of the story?”
The reporter must have seen my “memorial portrait” online. She stared at me, dumbfounded, for a moment before stammering, “Ma’am… is there something you’d like to share with us?”
“Oh, I have a great deal to share.”
After getting the green light from her producer, she and her crew sat back down. They clipped the micropho
ne to my shirt and signaled for me to begin.
I had a full hour left.
I told them everything. How Alex knew I was alive but still ordered me buried. How, during our marriage,
Isabelle would call him away at all hours. I laid bare the entire ten–year history of our relationship.
At first, the fans in the crowd were hostile, whispering behind my back that if Alex didn’t love me, I should
have had the dignity to leave.
But as I continued my story, I heard the sound of their whispers turn into choked sobs.
You weep just hearing the story. So why does anyone expect me, the one who lived it for a decade, to simply
forgive?
When I was alone, planning my parents‘ funerals, he was holding Isabelle in a warm, comfortable room.
When I went to the doctor, again and again, hoping to conceive a child for us, I discovered–by looking at his
phone–that he had promised Isabelle we would never have children. He had been secretly feeding me birth
control pills. My health deteriorated, my cycle became erratic, and my chances of getting pregnant plumme
ted.
All of this, I couldn’t tell anyone in my last life.
This life, I would make sure the whole world knew.
