See You Behind Bars

"How could this happen?" I cried while hugging Daniel. "What am I supposed to do without Martin? How are we going to live?"

However, my sadness was merely a mask. Deep down inside, I was positively overjoyed.

Martin sure knew how to cover his tracks. Here he was pretending to have been arrested when he went over to apologize. That way, he wouldn't actually end up in police custody.

"Mom, I want to see Martin," I said to Patricia.

She quickly dismissed that idea by saying, "The police said he's not allowed to meet with his family right now."

Her eyes flickered in thought before she suggested, "Since Martin has been arrested, it's best if we can provide the victim's family with some financial compensation. That way, he can get a lighter sentence too."

While wiping her tears, she quickly shot a look at Daniel, who instantly started wailing. He grabbed my hand and said, "Mommy, you need to save Daddy!"

I sneered to myself. What a brilliant scheme this was. Patricia was clearly expecting me to give money to Whitney and her child. She was playing me for a fool!

Nodding, I said, "You're right, Mom. I'll go get the debit card."

As I turned back into the bedroom, Patricia's eyes flashed with glee.

I grabbed the debit card, but after mulling it over briefly, I set it back down and took the evidence in Martin's desk drawer instead.

Soon, we arrived at Whitney's house. She opened the door with a look of grief, but I detected the same haughtiness I always sensed from her in my previous lifetime.

While glaring at us, she questioned, "Why did you come here? Have you not done enough to hurt my child and me already?"

She was holding the hand of a scrawny little girl while acting all emotional and despairing. Anyone who didn't know the truth would truly believe she was having a hard time after her husband had died.

Upon hearing what Whitney said, Patricia kneeled before her. She pulled Daniel down with her.

Sniffling, she said, "Whitney, we know this is all our fault. We have done a terrible thing to you and your family. You can do whatever you want to me. You can even beat me up if you want, but please forgive Martin."

She made a slip of the tongue that confirmed my suspicions.

However, I couldn't believe she wanted me to get on my knees and apologize to Whitney too. What a joke! Why would I, Martin's legally wedded wife, have to apologize to his mistress? I wasn't an idiot!

I flung Patricia's hand off, making her stumble. She ended up banging her head against the floor. The pain made her gasp.

"Mom, how did you know her name is Whitney?" I asked suspiciously.

Patricia's eyes flickered. Ignoring the pain, she hastily tried to explain herself by coming up with a lie. "I-I didn't at first, but when I brought Martin over, he told me that since we owe Whitney, we need to make it up to her."

"That's right. Daddy mentioned that before," Daniel added helpfully.

I glanced at Daniel, feeling chilled to the bone.

My own son went along with the scheme, allowing me to be tricked into working like a slave for Whitney for decades, just because Martin had lied to him and promised to buy him a new racing car.

He was nothing but an ingrate!

I took a closer look at the young girl who was eyeing us warily. Once I realized she shared a remarkable resemblance to me, an outrageous possibility came to mind.

Whitney surreptitiously hid the little girl from view before eyeing me. Then, she declared, "You want me to forgive him? Sure. Give me 500 thousand dollars, and not a penny less! I won't forgive him otherwise!"

As if to prove how firm her stance was, she turned back inside and proceeded to act as if she was about to slam the door shut.

When I didn't move at all, Patricia panicked and grabbed the door.

Whitney, who didn't get to close the door in time, snapped in contempt, "Leave! I don't want to see you people ever again! If not for you guys, my husband wouldn't have died!"

Patricia swiftly got to her knees and pleaded, "I'm begging you, Louise! Please save Martin. If you do, I'll wait on you hand and foot! He's my only son! Please save my son!"

She cried her heart out.

Even though I didn't show it, I was snorting on the inside. It looked like she was begging me, but in reality, she was backing me into a corner. She was certain I would give in!

"What are you doing, Mom? Martin and I are husband and wife. Don't worry. I'll find a way to save Martin."

I quickly helped Patricia back onto her feet. Patricia was thrilled, and even Whitney had a smug look on her face—but it only lasted a second.

Showing Whitney the document folder I had been hiding behind my back, I sighed and said, "Mom is right about one thing. Since Martin has decided to do the honorable, righteous thing, I shouldn't let him be subjected to any kind of gossip either.

"Here's the evidence of Martin's crimes. I'll take it to the police station for him so that the police won't come searching our house for it."

Once I finished speaking, I pretended to leave.

All the color drained out of Daniel's face. He started trembling. Meanwhile, Patricia quickly blocked my path.

Even Whitney was agitated. She seemed caught between two difficult choices. Either she gave up on the money, or Martin would actually be arrested. It was no surprise she was panicking now.

After stopping me, Patricia ushered me back toward the house where Whitney kindly let us in.

Patricia told me to go home and look after Daniel. She would take the evidence to the police station for me. She even said in concern, "You must be tired from running around all day, Louise. Here, have some water."

She passed me the glass of water on the table. Just as I reached out for it, I noticed something suspended in the water at the bottom of the glass.

Whitney also started putting on a show. "You don't need to turn in any evidence. I trust that Martin didn't do it on purpose."

Hah! She was claiming that someone who committed robbery and killed the victim after hadn't done it on purpose! What a joke that was.

After inwardly mocking her, I set the glass of water aside and declared in all righteousness, "No, Whitney. I know my husband has caused you a lot of pain and grief. I'm sure that if he were here right now, he would agree with my actions too. Rest assured, for I'll make sure that you get the justice you deserve."

Pretending to have made my mind up, I called for a cab. As I headed out of the house, I called the police.

"Hi, I'd like to make a police report. My name is Louise Henderson. My husband is Martin Short. I have evidence to prove that in 2003, he was involved in a robbery…"

I got into the cab despite Patricia and Whitney's best efforts to stop me, but they continued to pound on the window while shouting my name.

I told the cab driver to drive off, leaving them behind. Immediately, I started getting an influx of messages on my phone.

"Louise! If you dare report Martin to the police, I'll make you pay!"

"Louise, we can discuss the situation with Martin at length. Come back here, and we'll talk about it. Perhaps he won't need to receive such a harsh sentence. Do come back first!"

Whitney pretended to be generous. It sounded as if she didn't care that much about her dead husband after all.

Even Martin, who was hiding in a corner nearby, sent me an insincere message. "Don't worry about me, Louise. Just take good care of our son. I don't want you to have to suffer too much because of me."

The constant rush of messages proved just how anxious all three of them were.

Just then, a DNA test report fell out of the document folder. With trembling hands, I picked it up, and it confirmed my suspicions.

By the time I looked up again, I had already arrived at the police station.

I smirked to myself. This time, I was going to make Martin's words come true and let him rot away in prison!

A young police officer gestured at me and said, "Are you here to make a report? Come with me so that I can take your statement."

But after hearing what I said, he looked confused.

"No one named Martin Short turned themselves in. Are you sure it's not a mistake?"

I pursed my lips. My phone kept buzzing, and the influx of messages filled me with dread. I was afraid that they would stop me just before I could seal the deal and then claim I was making a false police report.

Thus, I swiftly handed over the evidence I had with me and swore, "It can't be a mistake, officer. Just earlier today, my husband told me that he committed the crime and was going to turn himself in. I tried to stop him, but he refused to listen to me."

The young police officer nodded approvingly. "It's good that he's willing to atone for his crimes!"

Despite his doubts, he started making an official record of my statement.

A few minutes later, Patricia, who was usually so weak that she couldn't help out with the house chores, appeared at the police station. She rushed right over to me and grabbed the document folder. She tore up all of the papers inside.

Pretending to panic, I exclaimed, "Mom! How could you—"