Dead Ex

I married a guy thirty-two years older than I am. Reason? Money. We got divorced, I got all his money and became the city's richest person.

Just when my luck was starting to turn, I was hit with devastating news. My ex died. Drowned, they said.

The cops think I'm the killer.

———

"Ms. Tillman? This is Greg Weeks from the police station. Is Clarence Antonio your husband?"

I massaged my throbbing head. The hangover was hitting me hard. "Was. We're divorced."

"At ten past one in the morning of the twelfth of June, the year 2024, your ex-husband was found dead on the east coast. His body was washed ashore. The report was made by a fisherman. Through his data, we found you. We'll need you to come to police station for investigation."

I thought this was a scam call, but when I got to ATPD and saw… the giant of a corpse, my mind buzzed. 'That's Clarence?' I thought.

Greg informed me, "Witnesses claim that Clarence had no safety gear on before he went into the deep zone. No signs of murder, so this might be a suicide. You're the last one he contacted before he died, Ms. Tillman. Did he behave any differently when you talked?"

A younger officer, Caleb Zimmers, gave me a glass of water. I drained it all, but my throat still felt parched. I shook my head, dazed. "No."

Clarence saw the… sensual scene during our video call the night before. Yet, he looked at me gently. It was as if nothing in this world could anger him.

Greg said, "The victim's friend claimed that his divorce was made official three days ago, and he went missing right after that call with you. The last time someone saw him was before his venture into the deep zone."

I clenched the paper cup, and it scrunched up. "You think I killed him?"

"Security footage and statements from our witness preclude murder. However, it does not exclude abetting. What did you and Clarence talk about during the call?"

"Abetting? You think a fifty-two-year-old businessman, and a successful one at that, would take his own life just because a college girl told him to?"

Greg looked at me sternly. "Everyone Clarence talked to before his death will be interrogated. This is how it is. Please work with us here."

"We didn't even talk that much."

Caleb played security footage showing a bunch of fashionable men coming into my manor, and a man in black was leading them.

"Ms. Tillman, the security camera around your street shows twenty-five men going to your house that night. Barring the staff, of course."

I forced a smile. "They're my friends. We were having a party."

Caleb frowned. "A party with twenty-five well-built men? Anyone would think you'd be scared, Ms. Tillman."

I huffed impatiently and said, "Clarence and I are divorced. I can sleep with twenty-five men at once, and it's still nobody's business, let alone a party."

Caleb shut up, choking on his own words.

Greg continued, "The victim's friend claims that you and Clarence got divorced three days ago. Clarence did not take a single cent with him. He gave you all his estates, shares, and savings, is that correct?"

"Yes."

"Clarence was a famous businessman in Ashington. You played no part in Antonio Corporation's operations. This is very different from usual divorce settlements."

In the Past

"More suspiciously, Antonio died within three days after the proceedings were final. I will need you to explain the circumstances around your divorce and its settlement, Ms. Tillman." Caleb flipped the file to the page he wanted.

When they first got their hands on the report, Caleb's colleagues suspected that Jessica Tillman might've put a spell on Clarence somehow. Clarence was a billionaire. Yet, he did not sign any prenups before the marriage. He gave everything to his ex-wife during the settlement.

"He must be mad," they said.

I kept quiet, but I was clenching my dress tightly.

Greg looked at me a little fiercely. "We'll need you to work with us here, Ms. Tillman."

I was shivering, but I said loudly, "Because he cheated on me! The cheater gives the betrayed everything they have! That was the condition, and he said yes! Do you have a problem with that?"

Caleb quickly went through the report. The news outlets would've had a field day with a financial entanglement of this scale. Greg looked at his colleagues, but they shook their heads.

"Ashington's courthouse did not receive any divorce requests lately. You did it out of court?"

I looked away. "We got an attorney for it."

Greg fell silent for a moment. "Clarence said yes, you said?" he asked.

I rolled my eyes. "Who do you think signed the papers?"

The officers had nothing to say to that. I did not blame their incredulity. I did want Clarence's money, but I wasn't expecting him to give me everything he had.

I suspected that this was just a part of his wealth. He probably gave everything else—and it must be a huge chunk—to that mistress he had.

The interrogation went on for a while, but finally, I was released.

Back in the interrogation room, a confused Caleb asked, "Greg, do you really think a rich business owner would kill himself just because he saw his ex-wife having a party with 25 supermodels at home?"

Greg frowned. "I don't think so."

"But that's what happened."

"Or so we think. No matter. When we get the content of the call, we'll know what Ms. Tillman told Clarence."

I got back home and strode to my bedroom; then I rummaged through my cabinet for my wedding photo. The glass cut my finger, and drops of blood fell on Clarence's wilting face. I tried to wipe the blood off, but my wound got worse. In the end, the blood got smeared everywhere.

For some reason, I saw Clarence through the veil of my blood, but it was the state of his body—bloated and grotesque. I scrambled backward. It was almost as if I didn't know the man in the photo anymore.

His graying hair was blotted out, but there were wrinkles on his smiling face. He didn't look like this when I first met him.

Clarence went to the gym regularly. He was sharp, his muscles were taut, and he would dye his hair black all the time. If it weren't for the wrinkles on the corner of his eyes and the storied look in his gaze, people would think he was in his thirties.

I was eighteen when we first met, and I worked at a bar on the beach. Clarence's friends escorted him into the bar. I saw the watch he was wearing. It was a Rolex, and that thing cost a house.

All the ladies had their eyes on him like he was prey, but I was faster. I sashayed over to him and served him bottles of expensive liquor. Younger men were always stingy with their money, but older men were the opposite.

Although I hadn't worked here long enough, I knew I could get enough commission from the liquor sale alone to last me a month. I sat closely with Clarence and bent over a little, revealing my cleavage to him.

"Fancy a glass, sir?"

A frown creased Clarence's forehead, and the look in his eyes went dark.

Contract

I caught that look, and for a brief moment, I was frightened enough to quit my job right there and then. His friends chased me off, but then a husky voice asked me, "What's your name?"

"Jessica Tillman."

The frown on Clarence's forehead smoothed over. "Decent name."

I wondered what that meant as I leaned my body closer to his arm and gently introduced the liquor to him.

Clarence took the liquor and evaded my body. "You work here?"

'Huh, so he's an aloof type,' I thought. "Just part-time," I said.

"Selling liquor?"

"Yes."

Clarence frowned again. "How much do you make a month?"

"It's a commission-based job."

Clarence tapped the bottle. "How much do you make from selling one of these?"

I raised three fingers.

"How many do you have left?"

I was taken aback but quickly snapped out of it. "It's a bestseller, so we only have ten of these left. We do have our pride and joy, though. It costs this much." I gesticulated.

Clarence didn't even blink, and he gave me a black card. "I'll get all of them."

'What?' I was shocked. 'Holy shit, this is my lucky night!' I asked Clarence if he was sure about this, and he said yes. So, I quickly told the manager to get the liquor.

When the 750-thousand-dollar whisky was brought out, my colleagues and I stared at it fervently. I'd been working in this bar for a few months. My colleagues and I tried to sell the whisky off, but no one would ever buy it.

The rich were not stupid. Any liquor that cost this much was usually kept in a collection, not haphazardly placed in a bar for sale. 'Yep, older men are both rich and gullible.'

I stared at Clarence, the passion in my eyes flaring. My colleague was even worse. She was practically taking off her clothes as she tried to plaster herself all over Clarence.

Clarence dodged her attempts and waved at me. "This is a low-value job. Want to work with me?"

"Given that you're implying a high-value job is waiting for me…"

"Fifteen million a year."

I almost stopped breathing.

"Your job is to marry me."

'Well, shit.' I almost tripped over myself, and I raised my hand weakly. "I-I'm just eighteen. I can't get married yet."

Clarence looked at the layers of makeup on my face and the clothes that barely cladded me. He massaged his forehead and fell into his thoughts. After all, I had the body and the look of a mature woman. Of course, that was after I donned some makeup.

Clarence took off his shirt and handed it to me, telling me to cover myself up. "We'll get married in two years, then."

I stole a glance at his perfect body. Then, I caressed his silk shirt. The shirt was too long for me, so I I tied a bow on my waist with the hem of the shirt before asking, "And my benefits?"

"As per the law."

I almost went on my knee and swore eternal fealty to Clarence. "Yes, boss!" I said.

I had no idea Clarence was Ashington's richest man. He looked like a regular, rich old guy. The offer must be a joke. I had assumed I'd only be getting a million at most.

When I found out Clarence's age, I thought maybe I could even host his funeral a few years after we got married. Then, I'd inherit his wealth and become a mega-rich woman.

He was probably failing down there, but at least he was handsome. It definitely didn't hurt that he had muscles. I had no qualms about sleeping with him. It was like winning the lottery. So, I signed the contract and happily moved into Clarence's manor.

The butler assigned me a three-bedroom.