Don't Say You Love Me

I put on a light layer of makeup to make myself look less worn out. Then, I went to the best law firm in the city for a consultation about the divorce process and to investigate my daughter's wrongful death due to medical misdiagnosis.

The lawyer quickly drafted the divorce papers.

But if I wanted to hold Elliot and Chelsea accountable, I needed more evidence.

That evening, I personally prepared a candlelit dinner and opened two bottles of Elliot's prized red wine.

When Elliot walked in and saw me sitting quietly at the dining table, he froze for a moment, then smiled knowingly.

"Holly, you should let the housekeeper handle this. You're my wife. You're meant to live a life of luxury, not do these things yourself."

He smiled and pulled me into his arms. We were so close that I could catch a whiff of the floral, sweet scent of perfume on him—one that unmistakably belonged to another woman.

I asked Elliot when he had started wearing such an overly seductive and tacky fragrance.

He looked guilty. Lowering his head, he sniffed his collar and quickly explained, "Oh, I had a meeting with the CEO of Griffin Group today. I must have picked it up from her by accident.

"What's wrong, Holly? Are you actually suspecting me? Are you still mad about me missing your checkup? I already explained myself. I thought you'd understand."

A guilty conscience always spoke first.

I had only asked a simple question, yet he had immediately responded with a flood of accusations.

Seeing that I remained silent, Elliot changed the subject. He pulled out a delicate emerald necklace and fastened it around my neck.

"Holly, don't be mad. I got this just for you. It's one of a kind. Do you like it?"

Under the candlelight, the emerald shimmered a deep, mysterious green. It was beautiful. I traced the cool, smooth surface of the necklace with my fingertips.

Throughout the six years of marriage, Elliot would give me jewelry after every fight.

But no amount of gold or diamonds could change the fact that he had betrayed me. It couldn't bring back my daughter, who had been murdered.

Seeing me finally smile, Elliot began to eat the food I had prepared.

He kept complimenting my cooking. Yet, in the end, he only had a few bites. After all, a man who has already indulged somewhere else wouldn't have much of an appetite at home.

During dinner, I kept refilling Elliot's glass, and before long, he was completely drunk and passed out on the bed.

Seizing the moment, I slipped into his study, searching for any evidence related to my daughter's death.

After digging through his files, I finally found one. It was an organ transplant agreement from six years ago. In it, Elliot had signed his name as my spouse, authorizing the transplant.

No wonder he had been so eager to marry me back then. It had never been about love. He had just done it to ensure Chelsea's early recovery.

I took photos of the document and put it back exactly as I found it.

Then, I scheduled the email to be sent to Elliot's inbox the moment my flight took off. It included the photos of the organ transplant agreement and the signed divorce agreement.

Once I left, he would wake up to the truth, and I would be gone.