Widowhood and the Price of Betrayal

When Soren made me angry, it was always the kind of thing that could only be fixed with seven figures worth of jewelry.

Wendy was soft-hearted, and Evan could make her incredibly happy just by buying her some sweets.

I always said it—girls who are easy to please are never truly cherished.

Evan said he wouldn’t buy anything, but in the end, he packed up several boxes of egg tarts and mini cakes.

He walked into the house, holding the bags like he was bestowing a gift upon her, placing them on the table.

He had that look, as if waiting for Wendy to jump at him, begging him to forgive her for not calling him the entire night.

"Wendy, where the hell are you? Get down here, now!"

Usually, whenever Evan came home, Wendy would be waiting for him at the door.

She was petite and delicate, and when she rushed to him, she was like a little sparrow.

But today, the living room was empty. Evan searched the bedroom, the kitchen, and the dining room, but there was no sign of Wendy.

The maid, Martha Lam, came over, her voice tinged with anxiety. "Young master, madam didn’t come home all night... what should we do?"

"What?" Evan's face darkened. "She has some nerve, staying out all night. Where the hell is she?"

His fist tightened in anger.

I tugged at his sleeve. "Bro, Wendy’s never stayed out overnight before, has she? Could something have happened to her? You should use my backup phone and give her a call."

I pulled out a phone from my bag and slid in the SIM card I had grabbed from the bar's cup.

As soon as it powered on, a flood of messages came pouring in.

"Evan, something happened to Wendy."

"Evan, Wendy’s dead! Where are you?"

"My condolences, Evan. A life lost can never return."

Evan frowned deeply as he read the messages.

"Are they all out of their minds? Is today April Fools’ Day or something? Wendy's fine, she’s not dead!"

Just then, a call came in from a police number.

"Hello, is this Wendy's husband? We found what appears to be your wife’s body at the Highway 707 intersection. We need you to come down to confirm..."

Evan exploded. "Are you out of your damn mind? Are you all working together to mess with me? Tell her to get her ass home right now, or she’s never setting foot in this house again!"

He slammed the phone down.

I watched coldly from the side. "Bro, you still don’t believe something happened to Wendy, do you?"

"Something happened to her, my ass! That woman’s tougher than a cockroach. If she didn’t kill anyone herself, I’d be surprised."

Before long, Evan's ex-lover, Yara Hayes, called, asking him to meet up.

He agreed almost instantly.

Out of all the calls, this one was the only one that hadn’t mentioned Wendy.

I opened up my social media.

Sure enough, Yara had posted pictures of her eating and watching movies with Evan.

In the photo, she nestled sweetly against his shoulder, and she shared a song: "Finally Waiting for You."

Despite his playboy ways, Evan had always been strict about not letting any woman post photos with him.

Was he seriously thinking that posting this would make Wendy come back to life and catch him cheating?

When Evan got home, the house was filled with people.

At the front was Wendy’s mother, dressed in black, her face heavy with grief.

Evan was confused. "Mom, what are you doing here?"

Wendy’s mother answered flatly, "I’m here to collect my daughter’s things."

Evan furrowed his brows. "What does she mean by that? Doesn’t she want to live with me anymore?"

Wendy’s mother’s voice suddenly became sharp. "Evan! Don’t think I don’t know how much of a bastard you’ve been to my daughter. Now she’s gone! I’m here to take what belongs to her!"