Truth-Or-Die: My Cheating Husband's Curse

A complicated look flashed in Hayley's eyes.

"I used a polygraph on him. He didn't lie," she said. "I realized something was wrong the moment I saw him. The way he looked at me at the end was almost… pleading.

"No one else could be controlling him except you. As for your motive for killing the victim, only you can tell me the answer."

I lost all rationale and slammed my fists on the table. "Hayley, you must believe me! I didn't kill anyone or hide Steve! Run a polygraph on me right now! You can even check my phone records, my messages, my location history—everything I've done recently! And—"

"Please calm down," Hayley interrupted me, then sighed softly. "Think carefully. Is it possible you have selective amnesia? Or maybe dissociative identity disorder?"

I shook my head in panic. "No, I don't! I swear I don't have any of that!"

Hayley stayed silent for a long time, then began laying out her theory.

"If we want to find out where the real Steve is, we can only work backward through a series of location-based questions. So, allow me to entertain you with my theory. Tell me if it makes sense.

"After Steve cheated on you, you harbored resentment. You found a man with a similar build, someone with an intellectual disability. You spent a large sum of money to surgically alter him to look exactly like Steve, even down to a one-to-one replica of the tattoo.

"Then, you used some form of suggestion or conditioning to make him only capable of answering 'yes,' 'no,' and 'yes and no.' After that, you hired a killer to take the real Steve out for a walk.

"During that time, they pushed him into the river and drowned him. That way, you had your alibi, and you could take over his assets completely while still maintaining the image of a loyal, devoted partner."

She continued, "But you made one mistake. You forgot he had his ID on him. When our officers went to your home, they happened to see the fake Steve. You panicked and claimed his ID had been stolen."

My throat felt like it was sealed shut with cement. I couldn't utter a word.

Hayley stood up. There was both pity and certainty in her eyes. "Until you give a statement, we will detain you in accordance with the law."

The next three days were like hell. Every day, Hayley came in with Steve. She used yes-or-no questions she came up with to weave an inescapable net around me.

All the evidence pointed at me, accusing me of abduction, contract killing, and tampering with a corpse.

I explained and denied everything, yet no one chose to believe me. I didn't have dissociative identity disorder or selective amnesia, and I definitely hadn't killed anyone.

But why did the person who never lied accuse me?

At some point, I even started doubting myself. Was there another me out there who did all of this without my knowledge?

It wasn't until the third day, during yard time, that I saw a news report playing on the television. Then, the answer struck me. I finally figured it out.

My scalp went numb. I rushed to the iron gate and shouted with all my strength, "Hayley! Hayley, I finally found out what's going on! We've all been tricked!"

I slammed my head against the iron bars until I finally got her attention.

"Are you insane?" Hayley snapped.

"I need to see Steve!"

I grabbed her arm tightly, my eyes bloodshot. "I only have one question! After that, everything will finally make sense!"

She stared at me for a full ten seconds before finally nodding. She led me into the interrogation room, where Steve was already seated.

Behind the one-way mirror, several officers were staring at us intently. Steve still looked as wooden and dull as ever, like a lifeless puppet.

I took a deep breath and walked up to him. Bending down close to his ear, I asked him a question, "Steve…"

The moment I finished asking, his entire body stiffened. He looked at me with a kind of fear that seemed to come from the very depths of his bones.

Then, he started to struggle violently, almost instinctively. Even with handcuffs on, he fought so hard that his wrists were rubbed raw and bleeding.

His lips trembled uncontrollably, but in the end, he forced out a firm answer. "Yes!"

I took my seat, a smug smile now hanging on my lips. "So, that's it. You've lost."