The next morning, I put on my worn, cement-stained workwear.

"I'm off to work," I said.

Estella didn't respond, likely still fast asleep. So, I closed the door behind me and followed a narrow path along the side into the bushes.

I kept my gaze fixed on the entrance.

The moment the clock struck 9:00 am, the security door swung open as Estella stepped out. She wore a tight red dress with high heels to match.

Her face was done up in heavy makeup, and her hips swayed as she strutted along. It was a stark contrast to the frail, dying state she'd shown the night before.

A familiar luxury car was parked at the mouth of the alley. Blake rolled the window down and whistled at her.

"Hurry up, Estella!" he urged.

She opened the door and got into the passenger seat before the car sped off.

I rushed downstairs and grabbed a rental bike by the roadside. Then, I pedaled with all my strength as I trailed far behind their car.

My legs burned from the strain, but I kept going. Half an hour later, the car pulled up in front of a high-end seafood restaurant in the city center.

I ditched the bike by the roadside and ducked into the bushes across from the restaurant. I watched as Estella and Blake walked in, chatting and laughing together.

It didn't take long before my in-laws, Allen Wilson and Adeline Myers, arrived.

The old geezer and hag were both dressed in brand-new clothes. In fact, their faces were flushed with excitement as they entered the restaurant.

I circled to the back alley and found the staff entrance. Then, I slipped into the kitchen while the workers were busy unloading ingredients.

I made my way along the corridor and found the VIP private room they were in. The door was left slightly ajar, so I hid in the storage room next door with my back pressed against the wall.

The voices inside carried out clearly.

"Come on, cheers! Let's celebrate Blake for winning 100 thousand dollars yesterday!" The voice belonged to Allen.

"Well, it's all thanks to that fool Raphael's hard-earned money," Blake replied before he burst out laughing.

"Alright, stop mentioning that pathetic loser. It's ruining my appetite," Estella said, her voice dripping with disdain.

"You really put on a convincing act. I can't believe he actually fell for it."

"How could he not? I even paid someone 200 dollars to forget the medical records." Estella's words came out muffled as she chewed on a crab leg.

"But there's nothing left to squeeze out of him now. I told him to borrow some money yesterday, and he came back empty-handed," she continued.

"Then what do we do? I'm still two million dollars short for my new apartment!" Panic crept into Blake's voice.

The room fell silent for a moment before Adeline spoke up. "Have you taken care of the matter I told you before, Estella?" she asked in a lowered tone.

"It's all taken care of, Mom. I've already bought an accident insurance policy for Raphael with the highest coverage online. In fact, I'm listed as the beneficiary. As long as an 'accident' happens while he's on-site, we'll get two million dollars from the insurance.

"Between that and the contractor's compensation, we can get at least three million dollars. By then, not only will Blake get his apartment, but we'll all also be able to move into a bigger place." A cold laugh escaped Estella.

I clamped a hand over my mouth in the storage room. Another surge of acid rose up from my stomach.

They were planning to commit murder for insurance fraud.

So this was the woman I'd loved with everything I had and the family I'd given my all to.

"But Raphael has always been so careful at work. How are we supposed to pull off the so-called accident, Estella?" Blake's voice carried a trace of impatience.

Estella let out a cold scoff. "That's easy. I've bought a few packs of strong sleeping pills. I'll slip a small dose into his water every day. It'll be just enough to leave him lightheaded.

"After all, he works hundreds of feet up on scaffolding every day. All it takes is a moment of dizziness, and one misstep will do the job," she continued.

A sharp smack echoed out of the private room. It sounded like someone had slapped their thigh.

"It's a brilliant idea. That's my daughter!" Allen praised loudly.

"Come on, let's dig in. The lobster rolls are really something."

Once again, the sounds of chewing and the clinking of glasses drifted out of the room.

I pulled the cracked-screen phone from my pocket and stopped the recording. Then, I slipped back out through the kitchen corridor when no one was around.

The sunlight was practically blinding when I stepped onto the street, yet I couldn't feel a trace of warmth. It was as though my blood had all but turned to ice.

Exhaustion, blood loss, and overwhelming shock hit me all at once. My vision suddenly went black as I collapsed onto the street.

When I came to, a yellowed ceiling came into view. The air reeked of disinfectant and the smell of cheap tobacco.

This was the back-alley clinic in Borellia. One of my coworkers, Jeremy Chadman, was sitting beside me.

"You're finally awake, Raphael. You fainted on the street, so a passerby used your phone to call me."

Jeremy let out a sigh before he continued, "The doctor said you have severe anemia and malnutrition. Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

I opened my mouth to reply, but before I could speak, the clinic door flew open with a bang.

Estella rushed in, dressed back in her worn coat with her face scrubbed clean of makeup. She shoved Jeremy aside before rushing to my bedside.

I thought she'd come to check on me. Instead, she shoved her hand straight into my pocket and rummaged frantically.

"Where's the money? Where the hell's the money you borrowed?" she snapped.

Estella turned both my pockets inside out, only to come up empty. Her expression instantly turned vicious before she shot to her feet.

"Did you even go out to borrow the money? Don't tell me you hid it somewhere," she lashed out, pointing straight at my nose.

Unable to take it anymore, Jeremy stood up and explained, "Come on, Estella. Raphael just fainted. The doctor said he has severe anemia. You—"

"This is none of your damn business. Get out!" Estella yelled at him.

Jeremy shook his head and heaved out a sigh. Only the two of us remained after he left the clinic.

I stared at the twisted look on her face. "I couldn't borrow the money," I replied evenly.

"You're useless! You're nothing more than a pathetic piece of trash!" Estella slapped me hard across the face. The sharp crack echoed through the clinic as my cheek burned from the pain.

"So you're just going to watch me die? Fine, then. I'll do as you wish!"

Estella made a show of throwing herself at the wall, all the while sneaking glances at me. It was all bark and no bite—there was no way she would actually go through with the act.

So, I made no move to stop her. I simply watched her performance coldly.

Seeing that I was unmoved, Estella stopped awkwardly by the wall before pulling a crumpled contract from her bag.

Estella slammed the contract down on my bed. "Since you couldn't get the money, I want you to sign this instead," she ordered.

I looked down at the document. The heading read, "Migrant Worker Mutual Aid Fund Application Form."

"What is this?" I asked.

"It's the site's mutual aid fund. As long as you sign it, we can get a 20-thousand-dollar advance for my treatment." Estella averted her eyes for a brief moment as she spoke.

I picked up the document with trembling hands and flipped to the next page. Buried beneath all the dense clauses was a small, inconspicuous line of text at the bottom.

"In the event of an accident, a compensation amount of two million dollars will be payable to the designated beneficiary, Estella Wilson," the text read.

It was a contract for a high-coverage accident insurance.

I picked up the pen and scrawled down my name without the slightest hesitation.

Estella's eyes lit up the instant I finished signing the contract. She snatched the document away and carefully tucked it into her bag.

The twisted look on her face softened into a gentle smile. "I knew you always cared about me."

Then, she took out a cold hot dog from her pocket and held it to my mouth. "I saved up to buy this for you. Go on, have some," she urged.

I stared at it before opening my mouth and taking a bite. The bread was as hard as stone, and the meat filling carried a sour, spoiled smell. Still, I forced it down in large bites and swallowed it.

"Was it good?" she asked with a smile.

"It was delicious," I enunciated every word as I stared straight back at her.

…

The next morning, I got up at daybreak as usual and got ready to head to the site.

To my surprise, Estella was up early for once. She took out a brand-new set of workwear from the cupboard and handed it over to me.

"Hubby, wear this instead. The old one's all torn up," she said.

There was a sweet smile on her face when she handed me a thermos. "I brewed some chamomile tea for you. Remember to take it with you to drink at the site."

I took it from her hands. Even through the stainless steel, I already had a good idea of what she'd added to the drink.

"Thanks, honey. Just get a good rest at home and wait for me to come back," I replied. Then, I unscrewed the lid and took a big gulp right in front of her.

The water carried a faint bitter taste, but Estella's smile only deepened when she saw me swallow it.

"You should get going. Don't be late," she urged.

With that, I turned and headed out.

The moment I reached the trash can downstairs, I shoved my fingers down my throat and retched violently. The drink I'd just swallowed came right back up, along with the acid in my stomach.

Then, I strode toward the construction site.

The foreman, Rodrick Fletcher, stood in front of the unfinished building with blueprints in hand.

"You're in charge of painting the exterior wall on the 20th floor today, Raphael. There are no guardrails there, so make sure to secure your safety harness," he stated.

I nodded in response. After putting on the harness, I fastened the primary and secondary lanyards before stepping out of the window and onto the narrow scaffolding.

Less than half an hour into work, I suddenly heard a commotion below.

It turned out Estella had shown up. She wasn't dressed in designer labels today, and her face was bare of makeup. Instead, she stood outside the site's entrance in her worn coat as she held up a phone stand.

The phone's camera was pointed straight at me. It was clear that she was livestreaming.

"Everyone, look—this is my husband. He's working in such a dangerous place just to earn enough money for my treatment. I have late-stage stomach cancer, and I feel so guilty that I don't even want to get treatment anymore. I don't want to drag him down," she choked out.

Estella's voice drifted up faintly through the loudspeaker below. The workers all wore looks of sympathy as she wiped her tears in front of the camera.

I stared coldly at her. Estella was squeezing every last bit of attention she could out of this for the sake of those two million dollars.

She wanted the whole internet to see me as the devoted husband who "accidentally fell to his death" trying to scrape enough money to save his wife. That way, the insurance company wouldn't have any reason to doubt anything when they processed the claim.

Just then, a faint click sounded from my waist.

I instantly froze in place. The buckle from the safety harness had loosened.

With nothing left to hold me, I was thrown backward as a sudden sense of weightlessness hit me.

Estella let out a piercing scream from below. "Hubby!"