The Husband She Tried to Cash Out
Chapter 5
Estella's eyes lit up the instant I finished signing the contract. She snatched the document away and carefully tucked it into her bag.
The twisted look on her face softened into a gentle smile. "I knew you always cared about me."
Then, she took out a cold hot dog from her pocket and held it to my mouth. "I saved up to buy this for you. Go on, have some," she urged.
I stared at it before opening my mouth and taking a bite. The bread was as hard as stone, and the meat filling carried a sour, spoiled smell. Still, I forced it down in large bites and swallowed it.
"Was it good?" she asked with a smile.
"It was delicious," I enunciated every word as I stared straight back at her.
…
The next morning, I got up at daybreak as usual and got ready to head to the site.
To my surprise, Estella was up early for once. She took out a brand-new set of workwear from the cupboard and handed it over to me.
"Hubby, wear this instead. The old one's all torn up," she said.
There was a sweet smile on her face when she handed me a thermos. "I brewed some chamomile tea for you. Remember to take it with you to drink at the site."
I took it from her hands. Even through the stainless steel, I already had a good idea of what she'd added to the drink.
"Thanks, honey. Just get a good rest at home and wait for me to come back," I replied. Then, I unscrewed the lid and took a big gulp right in front of her.
The water carried a faint bitter taste, but Estella's smile only deepened when she saw me swallow it.
"You should get going. Don't be late," she urged.
With that, I turned and headed out.
The moment I reached the trash can downstairs, I shoved my fingers down my throat and retched violently. The drink I'd just swallowed came right back up, along with the acid in my stomach.
Then, I strode toward the construction site.
The foreman, Rodrick Fletcher, stood in front of the unfinished building with blueprints in hand.
"You're in charge of painting the exterior wall on the 20th floor today, Raphael. There are no guardrails there, so make sure to secure your safety harness," he stated.
I nodded in response. After putting on the harness, I fastened the primary and secondary lanyards before stepping out of the window and onto the narrow scaffolding.
Less than half an hour into work, I suddenly heard a commotion below.
It turned out Estella had shown up. She wasn't dressed in designer labels today, and her face was bare of makeup. Instead, she stood outside the site's entrance in her worn coat as she held up a phone stand.
The phone's camera was pointed straight at me. It was clear that she was livestreaming.
"Everyone, look—this is my husband. He's working in such a dangerous place just to earn enough money for my treatment. I have late-stage stomach cancer, and I feel so guilty that I don't even want to get treatment anymore. I don't want to drag him down," she choked out.
Estella's voice drifted up faintly through the loudspeaker below. The workers all wore looks of sympathy as she wiped her tears in front of the camera.
I stared coldly at her. Estella was squeezing every last bit of attention she could out of this for the sake of those two million dollars.
She wanted the whole internet to see me as the devoted husband who "accidentally fell to his death" trying to scrape enough money to save his wife. That way, the insurance company wouldn't have any reason to doubt anything when they processed the claim.
Just then, a faint click sounded from my waist.
I instantly froze in place. The buckle from the safety harness had loosened.
With nothing left to hold me, I was thrown backward as a sudden sense of weightlessness hit me.
Estella let out a piercing scream from below. "Hubby!"
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