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Dead to Please Him

When a family meal leads to his sister-in-law’s medical crisis, a billionaire husband retaliates with horrific violence. He forces his wife to ingest a lethal allergen before locking her in a room to face the consequences alone. While she undergoes a slow, agonizing death characterized by suffocation and self-inflicted wounds, he remains indifferent. By the time he returns to offer a cold apology three days later, his wife has already turned to ashes.
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Chapter 2

Suffocated to Death

After great effort, I finally reached the doorknob. However, I realized that he had locked the door from the outside.

I tried with all my strength to make a sound, but my throat felt completely blocked. All I could manage were hoarse, rasping gasps.

Desperately, I pounded on the door. Once, twice, three times…

The sound grew weaker and weaker until I no longer had the strength to even lift my hand in the end.

Just as my consciousness was about to fade, I heard the butler's voice outside the door.

"Mr. Henderson, are you sure you want to do this? If Mrs. Henderson really…"

"Shut up! One more word, and you're fired!" Blake snapped impatiently.

"If she doesn't suffer a bit, she'll never learn."

The lack of oxygen made my head buzz violently, and my vision started growing darker. In the end, I could see nothing at all.

"Forget it. Let Melinda out. The key is in my study drawer," Blake finally instructed coldly.

The butler's expression turned uneasy as he acknowledged the order over the phone.

Blake wrapped his arms around Rosie and said guiltily, "To make it up to you, I just bought you a villa in the south of the city. Why don't we go and take a look now?"

Rosie's eyes lit up and she excitedly pulled him toward the door. "You promised! I want a pink princess room and a huge garden!"

Blake smiled and affectionately tapped her nose. "Okay, whatever you want."

Along the way, Blake held Rosie's hand tightly, as if pouring all the affection he had into her. Yet for some reason, my face kept surfacing in his mind, refusing to fade.

Buzz! Buzz!

In that split second, the vibration of his phone interrupted his thoughts. Blake glanced at it irritably and found that it was the butler.

"What is it?"

"M-Mr. Henderson…" The butler's trembling voice came through the phone. "Mrs. Henderson, she—"

"What now? What is she trying this time?" Blake frowned impatiently. "Tell her I'm busy and that I don't have time for her games!"

"N-no, Mr. Henderson. Mrs. Henderson seems to be…" The butler took a deep breath as if gathering all his courage before continuing, "It seems she's dead."

"Dead?" Blake's expression instantly turned livid. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Then, he suddenly recalled the call from the butler that morning.

'Could it be that… No, impossible! Melinda had worked so hard to marry me, so how could she possibly die? She must be pretending so she could win my sympathy,' Blake thought.

"Mr. Henderson, I'm not lying." The butler was on the verge of tears. "Mrs. Henderson's body is already—"

"If she's dead, then she's dead. She's always been good at pretending to be pitiful to gain sympathy. Are you helping her to deceive me too?"

"But—"

"That's enough! Tell her that if she doesn't want to come out, she can stay locked in there. I don't want to hear another word about her!" Blake roared and hung up.

He cursed inwardly that I had dared to threaten him like this.

"Blake, did something happen to Melinda?" Rosie asked softly.

"It's nothing." Blake gently patted her back. "Don't be soft-hearted with her after what she did to you."

"Still, she is my sister…" Rosie's voice trembled and sounded on the verge of crying.

However, I clearly saw the corner of her lips curl into a faint smile.

Blake let out a long sigh and stroked her hair softly. "You're too kind. That's why she always bullies you."

Kind? Rosie?

Looking at them, I almost laughed in fury.

A few days ago was our third wedding anniversary. I had prepared a table full of Blake's favorite dishes and waited for him with joy.

However, what he brought back wasn't a gift or flowers. Instead, it was Rosie, my so-called sister.