Your Regret, My Revenge

I stared at the phone screen, unable to look away.

My home, the one I'd filled with love and care.

My parents' last gift to me had become their filthy love nest.

A wave of dizziness hit me. Black spots danced before my eyes, and I almost fell off the bed.

I grabbed the bedside rail, gasping for air. My stomach churned violently, but there was nothing left to vomit.

How dare Vincent?

How could he?

How could he switch between his dying wife and his new lover so effortlessly, so easily?

Overwhelming nausea washed over me.

Tears were useless. I couldn't cry.

I remembered the hidden cameras we'd installed during renovations years ago. Vincent said he'd removed them.

"With me here to protect you, that's all you need," he'd said.

Did he really remove them?

I logged into the home security system account using the old phone.

The camera in the master bedroom was still online.

The feed loaded.

Cathryn was there, lounging on my marital bed, slowly sitting up. She waddled to my vanity, picked up my lipstick to test the color, then spritzed my perfume into the air.

Every movement felt like a slow, deliberate torture.

Stay calm, Brenna Lewis. You had to stay calm.

She made a call, her voice sugary sweet. "Vincent, you spent the whole day with her. Isn't that enough? The baby misses Daddy… Okay, come home soon. I'll wear your favorite one and wait for you."

After hanging up, she hummed a tune, opened my closet, and started pulling out my clothes one by one, holding them up, then tossing them on the floor with a look of disgust.

"Such bad taste."

She made another call, this time on speaker.

"Mom, all of Brenna's things are such an eyesore. Once she's dead, I'm throwing everything out and redecorating."

My mother-in-law's voice was fawning. "Yes, yes, whatever you want. You're the one who saved the Jenkins family line."

"Mom, what about that heirloom jade bracelet? When do I get it? You promised."

"It's ready for you! That barren woman was never worthy. If it weren't for the Lewis family's money back then…"

I muted the sound.

My fingernails dug into my palms until they went numb.

Suddenly, I remembered my father's words. "Never put all your trust in one person."

Besides what Vincent knew, my father had installed a more concealed system, encrypted with his and my mother's information.

Vincent never knew.

I entered a string of commands on the backup phone.

The screen flickered. Four new camera feeds lit up simultaneously—living room, study, kitchen, front door.

Cathryn had changed into an expensive maternity dress. She walked to the living room, picked up the only family photo of me and my parents from the coffee table.

She studied it for a few seconds, a contemptuous smirk curling her lips.

Then, she casually tossed it into the trash bin.

My breath hitched.

I turned on the recording function, saving every frame.

Night deepened.

Cathryn, well-fed and relaxed, lay on my sofa watching TV, the picture of the lady of the house.

When she finally turned off the TV and got up with a yawn, her gaze fell on the huge wedding photo on the wall.

She walked over slowly, looking up at it for a long time.

Then, she smiled.

It was the triumphant smile of a victor.

She extended a finger tipped with crimson nail polish and lightly traced it over my face in the photo.

"Brenna… Brenna," she murmured softly, as if chatting with an old friend. "How could you be so stupid? Did you really think Vincent loved you? He told me back in college—marrying you was just because your family background was clean and easy to control. You were useful to stabilize his image. A respectable ornament. Who knew you'd have such bad luck, getting this disease."

She sighed, but her eyes gleamed.

"But maybe it's better this way. Saves me the trouble of making you sign divorce papers. You die, and it's all nice and clean. Your house, your money, your man… they'll all belong to me and my son soon."

She paused, and her smile suddenly turned vicious, twisted.

"Oh, right. There's something you probably never knew."

Her voice dropped to a whisper, like a snake's hiss.

"Three years ago, on your birthday, when you were at the hospital for chemo, your parents' car accident wasn't an accident."

My blood froze solid.

On the screen, her lips moved, each word a poisoned nail. "I originally thought, families should stay together. Too bad you were lucky… you weren't in the car."

She stroked her rounded belly, smiling brightly at my image in the photo. "See, baby? This lady will be going to join her mommy and daddy very soon. This time, nothing will go wrong."