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Husband's Mistress Kills Mom Novel Cover

Husband's Mistress Kills Mom

The shrill ring of my phone pierced through the quiet Tuesday evening like a blade. I was folding laundry in our bedroom, Alexander's shirts crisp and white in my hands, when the sound made my heart skip. "Mrs. George?" The voice was urgent, professional. "This is St. Mary's Hospital. Your mother has been brought in by ambulance. She collapsed at home with severe breathing difficulties." The shirt slipped from my fingers, floating to the floor like a surrendering flag. "What? Is she—" "She's alive, but her condition is critical.
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Chapter 2

"I need some air," Scarlett announced suddenly, her hand fluttering to her throat like a trapped butterfly. "Alexander, could you walk with me? Just for a moment?"

I watched them leave, my mother's hand still clasped in mine. Through the glass partition, I could see them in the corridor—Scarlett's white dress catching the fluorescent light as she gestured animatedly, her body language intimate and urgent. Alexander stood close, closer than any married man should stand to another woman, his head tilted toward her as she spoke.

Their voices were muffled, but fragments drifted through the partially open door. Scarlett's breathy whisper carried just enough for me to catch pieces: "...blocking her natural energy..." "...these machines are suffocating her spirit..." "...trust the universe's plan..."

My blood turned to ice water in my veins. They were discussing my mother's treatment. Without me.

I rose from the chair, my legs unsteady, and moved toward the door. Their conversation became clearer as I approached.

"The ventilator is creating artificial dependence," Scarlett was saying, her voice taking on that guru-like tone she used when spouting her New Age nonsense. "Her body needs to remember how to breathe on its own. Sometimes we have to trust that removing the barriers allows positive energy to flow freely."

Alexander nodded slowly, his face troubled but receptive. "But the doctor said—"

"Doctors only see the physical realm, darling." Scarlett's hand touched his arm, her fingers lingering. "They don't understand the spiritual dimension of healing. Your mother-in-law's soul is fighting against this mechanical intrusion. She needs space to find her natural rhythm."

I stepped into the corridor, my voice cutting through their intimate bubble like a blade. "Are you seriously discussing removing my mother's life support?"

They turned, and I saw guilt flash across Alexander's face before Scarlett's influence reasserted itself. She smiled that serene, patronizing smile she reserved for people she considered spiritually inferior.

"Lily, we're just exploring all options for your mother's highest good," Scarlett said, her voice dripping with false compassion. "Sometimes conventional medicine can actually hinder the body's natural healing wisdom."

"Natural healing wisdom?" I stared at her in disbelief. "She has acute respiratory failure. Without that ventilator, she'll die."

"You're thinking from a place of fear," Scarlett replied, stepping closer to Alexander as if claiming territory. "Fear blocks healing energy. If we could just create space for positive vibrations to—"

"Stop." My voice was sharp enough to cut glass. "Just stop talking about my mother like she's some spiritual experiment."

But Alexander was looking at Scarlett with that expression I'd seen too many times lately—the one that said he was drinking in her every word like gospel truth.

Dr. Chen appeared at the end of the corridor, her expression grave as she approached us. "Mrs. George, I need to discuss your mother's treatment plan with you."

"Of course," I said, relief flooding through me. Finally, medical facts instead of spiritual nonsense.

"Actually," Alexander interrupted, his voice gaining confidence as Scarlett nodded encouragingly beside him, "I think we need to consider all options. Including... discontinuing the artificial support."

Dr. Chen's eyebrows shot up. "I'm sorry, what?"

"My wife's friend has some valid points about natural healing," Alexander continued, his words gaining momentum as Scarlett squeezed his arm supportively. "Maybe we're interfering with her body's natural processes."

"Mr. Kennedy," Dr. Chen's voice was carefully controlled, "your mother-in-law's lungs are severely compromised. The ventilator isn't interfering with healing—it's keeping her alive while her body recovers. Removing it now would likely result in respiratory arrest within minutes."

Scarlett stepped forward, her voice honey-sweet but deadly. "Doctor, with respect, Western medicine often overlooks the spiritual component of illness. Sometimes the kindest thing is to allow the soul to choose its own path, free from artificial constraints."

The color drained from Dr. Chen's face. "Are you suggesting we let a patient die based on... spiritual beliefs?"

"I'm suggesting we trust the universe's plan," Scarlett replied serenely. "The body knows what it needs. These machines create dependency and block natural energy flow."

I watched in horror as Alexander nodded, his face set with the stubborn determination of a man who'd made up his mind. "I want to sign the papers," he said quietly. "To remove the ventilator."

"Alexander, no!" I grabbed his arm, but he pulled away, his eyes avoiding mine.

"It's for her spiritual best interest, Lily. Scarlett helped me understand that sometimes love means letting go."

Scarlett smiled, her hand finding its way to Alexander's back in a gesture of support that made my stomach turn. "We're trusting the universe's wisdom," she added softly. "This is about honoring her soul's journey."

Dr. Chen looked between us, her professional composure cracking. "I strongly advise against this course of action. The medical risks are—"

"Where do I sign?" Alexander interrupted, his jaw set with misguided conviction.

As the papers appeared and Alexander's pen moved across them, I felt something fundamental break inside me—not just my heart, but my faith in the man I'd married, in the life we'd built together. Scarlett watched with satisfaction as my world crumbled, her smile never wavering.

Within three hours, my mother's oxygen levels plummeted. The alarms screamed as nurses rushed in, their faces grim with the urgency of a life slipping away. I called Alexander frantically, my fingers shaking as I dialed his number again and again.

He didn't answer. Neither of them did.

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