I typed out a reply:

"Okay. I'll pick you up in three days."

Three days later, I didn't expose Kathleen's lies. I went to the prison gates to collect her.

I spotted her from a distance—dressed in tattered clothes, playing the part of a woman ruined by bankruptcy. She'd even used makeup to paint a fake scar across her face.

When she saw me, she limped over, throwing herself into my arms.

"Abner!"

She clung to me, eyes brimming with tears.

"I worked so hard to atone while I was inside. They said my behavior was exemplary, so they released me early." Her voice trembled with practiced emotion. "Abner, these past few years must have been so hard on you."

She looked at me with such devotion—as if she'd truly suffered three years behind bars.

I gently pushed her away, my expression unchanged. "It's good you're out."

Kathleen faltered, something flickering in her eyes. She seemed to sense something was off. But then, in the next instant, she grabbed my wrist.

"Abner, what happened to your wrist?"

Her concern looked genuine. The worry in her face didn't seem fake.

But I found it laughable.

Kathleen, what are you pretending for?

You're the one who sent those people—the ones disguised as debt collectors who beat me until I looked like this.

And now you play innocent?

A hollow weariness settled over me. Or maybe I was just afraid to face what would happen when the lies finally crumbled.

"It's nothing. I fell." I pulled my hand free. "The doctor said it'll heal with time."

Kathleen exhaled, visibly relieved. "That's good."

She reached for my hand again, lacing her fingers through mine with exaggerated tenderness.

"The injury's on your right wrist. If it gets worse and affects your painting, you'll be devastated." Her voice dripped with saccharine concern.

Every word was a knife.

I used to have extraordinary talent. International awards, critical acclaim—everyone said I had a brilliant future ahead of me.

But for the drug trials. For the money.

To get Kathleen out of prison sooner.

I let them destroy my wrist.

Now I can't even hold a brush.

And it turns out all of it—every sacrifice—was just part of some twisted punishment game Kathleen had orchestrated.

How pathetic.

I stayed silent the entire drive. Kathleen grew visibly nervous, filling the quiet with a stream of chatter—stories about prison life, carefully rehearsed anecdotes she'd clearly pulled from the internet.

All to convince me she'd really spent three years locked away.

I listened without hearing, and when she finally paused, I asked quietly:

"Kathleen."

"Did I do something wrong?"

She went rigid. Her eyes reddened as she turned to face me.

"What do you mean, Abner? Why would you ask that?"

My mind drifted to the last time I'd been allowed to visit.

I'd been so happy. I'd saved up my meager allowance for weeks, bought meat and vegetables, cooked everything myself, and brought it to her.

No wonder she'd wrinkled her nose and refused to eat.

The food was too cheap for her.

Of course it was. I thought she'd been suffering in prison for three years.

But the whole time, she'd been traveling the world with her male assistant—dining on imported delicacies and five-star meals.

Why would she ever lower herself to share my hardship?

Even that prison visit had been theater. A hundred and twenty dollars to rent out the scene and play her part.

Three years. Three years I'd been their fool, their plaything, spinning in circles while they laughed.

Tears slid down my cheeks before I could stop them.

Kathleen's composure cracked. She lunged forward, dabbing at my face.

"Abner, why are you crying? Did someone hurt you?"

I looked into her eyes.

"If someone hurt me, what would you do?"

"Would you still protect me like you swore before—no matter the cost, even if it meant your life?"

Kathleen's hands trembled as she grabbed tissues to wipe my tears.

She didn't hesitate. Just nodded, fierce and certain.

"Anything, Abner. Whatever you need—just say it. I'll make it happen."

I held her gaze. Those eyes, so earnest. So sincere.

"Really?"

"Then I want you to kill Nathan."

Her head snapped up. She stared at me, frozen.

"What did you just say?"

Panic flickered across her face. "Did something happen? Did you misunderstand something?"

She was terrified I'd caught on.

Her whole body went rigid.

"After the company went under, Nathan resigned and moved abroad. I haven't had any contact with him in three years."

"Did he come after you while you were in prison? If he did, I swear I'll make him pay—"

I caught her wrist. Let out a soft laugh.

"I'm kidding."

"Murder's illegal, you know."

"You just got out of prison. How could I bear to send you back?"

"I was just teasing."

I turned away to grab something, keeping my expression hidden.

She couldn't see my face. Couldn't see what was really there.

She thought it was just a joke. I heard her exhale—relief bleeding out of her.

"Abner, I'm sorry."

"These three years... you've suffered so much."

I didn't turn around.

But in my heart, I thought:

It's fine.

Your reckoning is coming.

After Kathleen's release, I started making frequent trips to the hospital.

The doctor pulled me aside. "Are you really not going to tell your family?"

"This isn't some minor illness. Your wife has a right to know."

I shook my head, smiling faintly.

"Let's leave it. I don't want her to know. And I don't want treatment anymore."

Kathleen was lurking in the corridor, catching fragments of the conversation. But not enough to piece together.

When I walked out, she was waiting.

"How did it go?" Concern painted her features. "What did the doctor say?"

I smiled and shook my head, about to answer—

When Nathan's call cut through.

"Kathleen, I've got way too much cake at my place. Come help me finish it?"

"Oh, and I bought you a bikini set. Want to come try it on?"

"Sure. I'm on my way."

Her lips curved upward—just slightly—as she replied, voice perfectly calm.

She thought I hadn't heard. Covered the phone with her hand and turned to me, expression serious.

"Abner, remember that new project I mentioned? I'm going to discuss it now. If it works out, we might actually get back on our feet."

I stared into Kathleen's eyes.

When she'd proposed to me, those same eyes had been filled with sincerity.

Now they held that same sincerity.

But the lies spilling from her lips? She didn't even blink.

My gaze must have unnerved her. She started to fidget, nearly tripping over her own composure.

"Abner, are you... is something wrong?"

"Go ahead."

"If you can turn things around, you won't have to worry about those debt collectors anymore."

Those debt collectors—every single one of them sent by Kathleen herself.

They'd cornered me in that dead-end alley.

Stripped the house of anything worth taking.

Most days, I went three days between meals. When the hunger became unbearable, I'd drink tap water until my stomach stopped screaming.

Kathleen let out a breath of relief, grabbed her coat, and walked out.

I watched her retreating figure. Felt my gaze turn cold.

I thought about last night—waking up in tears, asking Kathleen—

"Where are my parents?"

Back when Kathleen's company went bankrupt, I'd tried to reach out to my parents for help.

But I couldn't get through to them.

Kathleen told me they'd been caught in a landslide on their way back. Both of them—gone.

She said the bodies were never recovered. I spent three years searching. But just two days ago, I finally learned the truth.

They weren't dead at all.

Kathleen had tricked them into going abroad.

Three whole years.

For three years, Kathleen had been using my phone to send them messages, telling them I was fine—while I rotted away in that hellhole, and they had no idea.

"Kathleen."

I looked into her eyes and decided to give her one last chance.

"Is there anything you've been hiding from me?"

She blinked, then reached over to ruffle my hair.

"Silly. How could I ever hide anything from you?"

I lowered my gaze, my eyes dimming.

"Good."

After a pause, I said, "I miss my parents."

"First thing tomorrow, I'll take you to visit their graves."

I asked about my parents' estate—surely they would have left me something.

But Kathleen's answer came out halting, evasive.

"Everything happened so suddenly. Before I could even sort through their affairs, I was framed and thrown in prison."

"But now I have plenty of time to investigate what really happened back then."

Her gaze flickered. She took my hand.

"Abner, maybe your parents aren't really dead. Maybe there's still hope."

Ha.

The three-year mark was almost here. She'd lied to me about my parents' deaths, and now she couldn't keep the story straight anymore.

So she pivoted—claimed there might be hope after all.

Too bad. She'd already squandered her last chance.

A few days later, Kathleen made an excuse about a business meeting. In reality, she was going to see Nathan.

I watched the clock hands creep toward midnight, then scattered sleeping pills across the floor.

The doctor called. "Everything's ready."

I nodded and sent Kathleen a message.

"Kathleen, your punishment won. You wanted to back Nathan up? Fine. Take everything."

"Take my life too."

At that same moment, a phone buzzed frantically.