Chapter 8
Uncle Thompson, despite his age, was crying uncontrollably in the hallway.
“Poor Jack,” he sobbed, his voice thick with grief. “So young and dealing with all this, married to an ungrateful monster! If he wants revenge from the grave, he should go after that bitch Amy!”
“How did our Thompson family get so cursed?” His voice wavered with rage. “You worked your whole life, only for that bitch to take every last cent. This is the woman you married, huh?”
While they were all busy cursing, Mrs. Thompson pulled Olivia into an empty room when no one was looking.
I quickly slipped over to the door, slid my phone into the crack, and started recording.
Just as I was halfway through, Uncle Thompson suddenly appeared out of nowhere and yanked me into Jack’s room.
Jack lay in the bed, looking nothing like the man he had been just three days ago. He was weak, pale, and barely holding on with the help of machines.
An oxygen mask covered half his face, but his eyes, though filled with pain, still locked onto me with a trace of regret and sorrow.
“Look at him,” Uncle Thompson said, his voice rising. “Jack’s almost gone. The first name he called out when he woke up was yours. How can you do this? He’s your husband. He’s made mistakes, sure, but now that he’s on his deathbed, you’re still the one he’s worried about the most.”
“If you have any conscience, you’ll pay for Jack’s hospital bills and save him!” Uncle Thompson’s voice trembled with frustration.
I slowly raised my eyes to Jack’s frail form, my lips curling into a cold smile.
“Oh, really? The first name he called was mine? How come I didn’t hear that?” I scoffed.
“If he’s still able to speak in this state, doesn’t that mean his condition isn’t as bad as you’re making it sound? Why not just take him home? You could save some money that way.”
“You keep saying Jack is the proud heir of the Thompson family, right? So why don’t you take him home and care for him yourself? That shouldn’t be too much to ask, should it?”
Uncle Thompson’s fists clenched in fury.
“Are you out of your mind? Jack has a wife! What would it look like if I took him home?” he shouted, his face turning red. “You’re crazy!”
“Oh, so now you’re all talk, huh? You know he can’t be saved, you just don’t want to spend the money. Why should I be the one to take the hit? If he can’t let go of me, I’ll use the money he left behind to live well. I’m sure that’ll put his soul at peace.”
They’d been trying to play the moral high ground all along, pushing all the guilt onto me, but as soon as I suggested they take responsibility for the cost themselves, suddenly they couldn’t hear me anymore.
Uncle Thompson stormed out, muttering about my “crimes” to anyone who would listen.
And then it was just Jack and me in the room.
I knew he could still hear me, even if he couldn’t respond.
His eyes were teary, and I leaned in close to his ear, speaking softly but clearly.
“I know you and Olivia cooked up this whole scheme to trick me, but it’s not going to work this time.”
“I knew about your illness before, and I wanted to help you, but you made your choices. Now don’t blame me for being heartless.”
I let out a breath, my voice steady.
“Since you’re about to die, I might as well give you one last piece of news, out of the kindness of my heart.”
“The child Olivia is carrying isn’t yours.”
At those words, Jack’s eyes shot wide open, his hand flailing through the air, reaching desperately, but grasping at nothing.
His body trembled, but no sound came.
