My Wife's Deadly Deception

"Honey, the washing machine's making that buzzing sound again. Can you fix it please?" my wife, Felicia Odell, asked.

I stretched my stiff limbs from sitting too long and saved the design I'd just finished. The client had paid a good amount for these designs. Once I received the final payment, combined with my savings, we'd be able to buy a house of our own. A place just for the two of us, not some rental apartment.

Felicia's gentle voice called out again, and I got up from my desk with a smile. When I reached the bathroom, I found the old washing machine shaking and making a noise. It was an older twin-tub manual model, yellowed from years of use. It was clearly time to replace it. We'd get a brand-new automatic one when we moved into our new home.

Felicia stood behind me, wearing rubber gloves and boots, considerately handing me a screwdriver. But as soon as I put my hand on the machine, a jolt of electricity surged through me. My whole body tensed up, my heart pounded, and I convulsed for several seconds.

Unable to handle the shock, my heart eventually gave out and I collapsed. The last thing I heard was Felicia's voice.

"Derek, he's been electrocuted and collapsed. He should be dead," she said sweetly into the phone.

"Don't worry. I stayed far away, so I'm perfectly safe," she added, laughing. "I'll take care of his funeral and move in with you as soon as it's over. Yeah, he has quite a bit of money in his account, enough for the two of us for a long time." She glanced at me indifferently as if everything that had happened was just a simple accident.

I lay on the floor, filled with resentment. I worked myself to the bone every month so she could do what she loved, yet she went and staged an electrocution to kill me.

The power outlet continued to hiss and buzz, like the mocking laughter of a devil.

I stared at Felicia with hatred as she took my bank card before making a call. "Please… Help me… My husband accidentally got electrocuted. I need to arrange a funeral," she said, pretending to cry.

Felicia knew the password to my bank card—her own birthday—and had already accessed the account. She looked at the six-figure balance with a smile on her face but said in a tone that feigned sadness, "We don't have much money. Just arrange a simple cremation. No need for a cemetery plot.

"The cheapest is 400 dollars? Nothing cheaper? Fine, let's go with that."

I watched as Felicia carried my urn home, looking somber. Then, she casually tossed it into the trash bin by the door, letting out a sigh of relief. She quickly moved in with her lover, using my money to buy him a 700-dollar outfit and taking him on vacations, staying in five-star hotels that cost 200 dollars per night.

I glared at Felicia, seething, as she smiled sweetly at her lover. She was spending my money—money she barely used for my funeral—to buy him expensive clothes.

My consciousness started to fade. Tears rolled down my face uncontrollably, soaking my sleeve, and I suddenly snapped back to reality.

Wait, I was alive? My hand throbbed in intense pain, sending sharp jolts through my brain. My head pounded.

"Honey, the washing machine's making that buzzing sound again. Can you fix it please?" Felicia's gentle voice called from the other room.

After a moment, she called again, "Honey, the washing machine is broken. Can you take a look at it?"

When I didn't respond right away, she came in, clearly annoyed. "Marcus Lomas. I've been calling for you. Why are you ignoring me?"

My mind was still processing what had happened. I couldn't believe my wife had tried to kill me just to be with another man.

Felicia noticed my dazed state and quickly put on a concerned expression, reaching out to feel my forehead. I recoiled from her touch, my body shaking. She didn't seem to mind though and handed me a toolkit and the same black-handled screwdriver from before.

"Go check what's wrong with the washing machine…" she said.

I took the screwdriver and slowly walked toward the bathroom. Felicia followed closely, nudging me along. "Hurry up, honey. My pink dress is still in the wash."

The water heater was filling up, and none of the power sources were switched off. I glanced back at Felicia. She was wearing rubber gloves and boots, completely protected, while I had no protection whatsoever.

It was just like before. My wife couldn't wait to see me dead!

I swallowed my anger and turned to exit the room. Felicia, seeing me turn, quickly grabbed my arm.

"Honey, the washing machine!" she urged.

I pulled my arm away and tried to keep my voice steady. "To fix the washing machine, I need to turn off the power first. Your dad's an electrician. You should know that."

She awkwardly let go of my arm. "Oh, right. I forgot."

I looked at her boots and gloves. She didn't look like she had forgotten.

Felicia had never done any housework before. I used to think nothing of it, but it suddenly clicked. She had been acting out of character by doing the laundry.

I went to the circuit box and switched off all the power in the house. Then, I put on rubber gloves and boots before heading back to the bathroom. I caught a glimpse of Felicia's look of disappointment. She was disappointed that she hadn't managed to electrocute me? Really?

My heart twisted with pain. Recalling everything Felicia had done after my death, I felt so weighed down that I could barely move.