Three years dead. My lawyer husband still wanted me to take the fall for his true love. He showed up at my old house with a confession in hand. The place was a wasteland. He had to ask the neighbor where I was. The neighbor told him flat out. "Elena Rose? She's been dead for years. Word is, after she got out, the victim's family came for her. Beat her to death." Theodore refused to believe it. He was sure I'd put the neighbor up to it. His face twisted with disgust. "A couple years in prison and now she thinks she can fake her own death?" He let out a cold scoff. "Do me a favor. Tell her if she doesn't show up at the courthouse on Monday, she can forget about me paying one more dime for her mother in that care home." Then he stalked off, fuming. The neighbor stared at his rigid back and sighed. "But her mother... she starved to death in that place a long time ago." -- I drifted in the yard of my old house and watched Theodore Cross struggle through the weeds. He clutched a few sheets of paper. The confession, I figured. The one that would make me the culprit. "Elena! Get out here! You think hiding in this dump is clever?" His shout echoed in the empty yard. "If I hadn't pulled strings back then, you'd have been beaten to death inside! Now I need you and you dare to hide from me?" Hearing him throw that in my face with zero guilt hurt worse than the beating I took the day I got out. Three years ago, he'd said the same thing. Back then, Serena Vance had been drunk behind the wheel and hit someone. He'd come to me with fake evidence. "Two years. You go in for two years. I'll get your mom into the best care home. But if you refuse..." I'd flipped the coffee table in our fight. "Theodore! I'm your wife! How can you send me to prison for her?" He hadn't even bothered to explain. His eyes held nothing but contempt. "Sign the confession or watch your mom's treatment stop. Your call." Now, here he was again. Same face, same threat. It was late. Theodore kept shouting. Mrs. Kowalski next door threw open her window. "What's all this racket in the middle of the night? Nobody's lived there for years!" Theodore rounded on her. "You know Elena Rose, right? Is she hiding in there?" Mrs. Kowalski squinted at him through her reading glasses. Then she let out an "Oh." "You mean Elena? She's been dead almost three years." Theodore's face went rigid. "What? Dead?" "Mm-hmm. A few days after she got out, someone beat her to death. Had to do with that old case, they said. Gone on the spot." She gave him a sharp look. "Who are you, anyway? How do you not know this?" "Impossible!" Theodore's voice pitched high. "Someone like her couldn't possibly..." He cut himself off, yanked out his phone, and dialed Serena. His fingers were shaking. He put it on speaker. Serena's voice drifted out. "Theodore? What's wrong?" "Serena, that settlement money for the victim's family. Did you actually pay it?" A half-second pause. Then Serena's voice, firm and certain. "Of course I did. I signed the check myself. Why?" I heard it clear as day. I almost screamed at her. She'd done nothing. The moment I stepped out of prison, those family members found me. They wanted justice. I was barely clinging to life when I learned the truth. Serena hadn't given them a cent. They'd never even heard of a settlement. I died in Serena's place. Theodore's face relaxed the second the call ended. He turned back to Mrs. Kowalski, his expression full of disgust. "I knew it. Elena got you to lie for her. A little prison time and now she's staging her own death. Tell her this: if she skips court on Monday, her crazy mother will be out on the street." He spun around and marched to his car. His shoes crunched on the gravel drive with a final, dismissive sound. Mrs. Kowalski watched him go and sighed into the empty air. "That man is blind. Elena's mother was gone long before. They say she wasn't found for days in that care home. Starved to death."
Theodore practically fled the old property. He didn't catch Mrs. Kowalski's last two sentences. My soul was tethered to him, dragged along like a balloon on a string. I had no choice but to follow. His Lexus sped across town and stopped at the entrance of Serena's luxury apartment, the one with the sweeping lake view. The door opened. Serena rushed to greet him, her smile eager and tight. "Theodore, how did it go? Did Elena agree?" He paused while changing his shoes, not meeting her eyes. "She... wasn't home." The smile on Serena's face dimmed. She quickly replaced it with a wounded look. "She must still hate me. I can't blame her. I did a terrible thing to her last time." She dropped her head, her voice going soft and thick. Her eyes glistened on cue. "Maybe... maybe we should just drop this. It's my mess. I can't drag her into it again. But... if I really do go to prison, what will you do all alone?" Theodore always fell for that act. He pulled her into his arms, his brow furrowing. "Don't talk nonsense. What right does she have to hate you? I gave her a huge sum of money the last time. The victim's family was handled. It was just a few years in a cell, not a death sentence. What does she have to complain about?" He gripped her shoulders, his voice taking on that final, decisive tone. "Relax. I will find her. She will take responsibility for this." I hovered by the chandelier and caught the flicker of triumph on Serena's lips. My soul went cold. I never saw a dime of that money. And the "handled" family turned out to be the ones who killed me. Serena buried her face in Theodore's neck. Out of his sight, the corner of her mouth curled up in victory. I reached for her throat, desperate to choke the life out of her. My hands passed right through. "Don't worry," Theodore murmured, stroking her back with steady reassurance. "I'll find her. She will do her duty this time." He went back to my old place the next morning, determined to track me down quickly. Sunlight cut through the busted window frames of my abandoned farmhouse. Theodore stood in the yard, his frown deepening. "These roses..." He crouched down. His fingers brushed the withered bushes. He knew I used to fuss over them constantly. They were my grandmother's heirloom roses. I would never have let them die unless something catastrophic had happened. I shadowed him as he pulled out his phone and took a picture of the spiderwebbed oak door. His thumb hovered over the screen for a long moment. Then he finally called his assistant. "Find Elena Rose. Use every resource. I want every detail." He kept walking after he hung up. My pulse raced. Right there, at the corner of the old barn, a dark stain still clung to the concrete slab. Three-year-old blood. Two more steps and he'd see it. A shrill ringtone split the air. Serena's custom tone. Her panicked voice spilled from the phone. "Theodore! The prosecution has new evidence. If we don't deal with this fast, I'm finished!" "What?" The color drained from Theodore's face. "I'm on my way." He turned and ran. He didn't look any closer. I hovered in the air. I wanted to applaud his sheer stupidity. Of course. In the world of Theodore Cross, even when the sky was falling, he'd hold the umbrella for his precious Serena first.
Theodore's car barreled down the highway, and I was dragged along with him. The scenery outside the window blurred into streaks. He kept rapping his knuckles against the steering wheel, muttering under his breath. "Still time. There's still time." The car's speaker crackled. His assistant's voice came through. "Mr. Cross, we still have no trace of Ms. Rose. No credit card activity, no bank transactions. It's like she's really..." "Useless!" Theodore slammed his palm against the wheel. "Keep looking! Get the private investigator to tear through every database!" His breathing grew ragged. Then, suddenly, his eyes lit up. That familiar, self-assured expression I knew all too well settled back on his face. He grabbed his phone and called Serena, his voice vibrating with excitement. "Serena, I've got it. The old woman is still in the care home. Elena cares about her more than anything..." A violent tremor ripped through my soul. The image of my mother, withered to skin and bone, flashed in front of me. After all these years, he was still using her to blackmail me. I screamed at him to stop, but Theodore couldn't hear me. He was already consumed by the thrill of the hunt. He slammed his foot on the gas and raced toward the Maple Grove Care Home. The hallway reeked of disinfectant and stale urine. Theodore covered his nose with a grimace. "Someone get out here! Where's Elena's mother? Bring her to me!" A middle-aged man with gold-rimmed glasses hurried over. "Mr. Cross, what an unexpected..." "Cut the crap," Theodore snapped. "Which room is Margaret Rose in? I'm taking her with me." Dr. Peterson's face froze. A sheen of sweat broke out on his forehead. "Well... you might not be aware, but Mrs. Rose, she..." "She what? Serena just came by last month and paid twenty thousand in care fees. Take me to her. Now." My soul twisted in agony. That twenty grand. It probably went straight into Serena's pocket. Dr. Peterson fumbled to pull up the records on his computer. The death certificate was right there on the screen. Date of Death: March 15, 2023. Cause of Death: Severe Malnutrition. "Mr. Cross... Mrs. Rose did indeed pass away two years ago." "Bullshit!" Theodore snatched the mouse and stared at the screen. I saw his pupils contract violently. His fingers twitched. But a second later, a cold sneer spread across his face. "Impressive, Dr. Peterson. How much did Elena pay you to fake the records?" He leaned in close, his voice dropping to a lethal whisper. "Do you know how many years you'll get for falsifying medical documents?" Dr. Peterson's knees practically buckled. "Mr. Cross, this is an automatic system entry! Look at the certificate number. You can verify it with the State Department of Health." "Shut up." Theodore slammed the laptop shut and strode toward the door. "I'll check this myself. And if I find out you're all in on this..." He didn't finish the sentence, but Dr. Peterson looked like a dead man walking. I knew exactly why he was terrified. He was the one who'd injected my mother with the fatal dose of sedative. Theodore's hands were shaking so hard he could barely grip the wheel when the car started again. He called Serena, but his voice came out oddly tender. "Don't worry, darling. I'll find the old woman. Elena always does what her mother tells her." I drifted in the passenger seat, watching the affection in his eyes. The hatred in my soul surged like a tide. If I could still cry, my tears would be made of blood.
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