My Husband Slept With the Woman Who Killed My Family

In the third year of their marriage, Corrine's legs miraculously recovered.

The moment she realized she could walk again, all she wanted was to share the good news with Jonathan. But no matter how many times she called him, no matter how thoroughly she searched, she couldn't find him anywhere.

Anywhere except the rooftop.

The place where her parents' memorial hall was located.

With a heart full of excitement and confusion, Corrine decided to climb up herself—hoping to surprise him.

Because of her condition, she had rarely come to the rooftop. Jonathan usually handled everything there alone. Feeling the ground beneath her feet for the first time in years filled her with joy, and she subconsciously quickened her pace.

Suddenly, from behind the door, sounds thick with intimacy spilled out along with the light seeping through the crack.

At that instant, Corrine froze.

Through that narrow gap, she witnessed the most unforgettable scene of her life.

The man she had loved for five years was openly entwined with another woman—right in front of her parents' memorial altar.

And that woman...

The black-and-white portraits of her parents swayed violently above them, shaken by the movements below. The scene was grotesque, obscene, and bitterly ironic.

Corrine clamped a hand over her mouth, desperately trying to suppress the scream clawing up her throat.

"Jonathan! Other than locking me up here as your outlet, what else can you even do?!"

"Ah... no... don't—"

The man's face was twisted with a kind of desire and madness Corrine had never seen before. His movements grew harsher as he spoke.

He sneered. "Your mouth says no, but your body's being very honest."

"Aren't you afraid Corrine will find out?" She choked out.

"You dare mention her name?" Jonathan snapped.

At the sound of Corrine's name, he thrust even harder, his eyes dark—indistinguishable between hatred and desire.

Every word he spoke stabbed straight into the heart of the woman standing outside the door.

"Corrine will never find out. Her wheelchair couldn't reach this place. If I want to, she'll never discover the truth in her entire life."

"So whatever happens between Corrine and me..."

"You, a murderer, have no right to worry about it!"

Corrine heard her heart shatter.

He had once been her only salvation during those filthy, suffocating years of her youth.

So Lesley hadn't died after all.

She had merely been hidden away—hidden by Jonathan, hidden in her parents' memorial hall.

So all that talk about "a life for a life" had been a lie!

Jonathan had gone soft in the end.

"Heh... is that so?"

Swallowing her broken gasps, Lesley forced out a mocking laugh.

"So that's your excuse for sleeping with me behind Corrine's back?"

"Jonathan, how does it feel—sleeping with your wife's enemy in front of her parents' spirits?"

"You say you're just changing the way you torture me... but aren't you enjoying it too?"

"Or is it that deep down... you still have feelings for me?"

Jonathan froze for a split second. Then came silence—like a tacit admission.

He bent down and bit into her chest, his voice low and dangerous.

"Lesley. You talk too much."

"You're never leaving this place for the rest of your life."

After that, Corrine could no longer hear anything clearly.

Just standing there took all her remaining strength.

Tears blurred the intertwined figures before her eyes as a suffocating pain spread from her chest.

How ridiculous.

Today was their third wedding anniversary.

Just two hours ago, Jonathan had buried his face against her shoulder and whispered carefully, "Corrine, I really love you."

"No matter what happens... don't abandon me."

So that sudden confession had been nothing but guilt.

She didn't know how she made it back downstairs. When she came to her senses, she was already in her bedroom.

She had planned to tell him that her legs had recovered.

Now, it no longer mattered.

The wedding photo of the two of them—once sweet and radiant—began to warp before her eyes. Jonathan's handsome face slowly overlapped with the man she had just seen pounding into Lesley...

Corrine finally broke down. Her suppressed tears and vomit mingled as she cried out in silent rage.

Why did it have to be Lesley?

Why her?! The one who bullied her, the one who nearly crippled her for life, the one who murdered her entire family?

No wonder he had never allowed her to go to the rooftop. No wonder he hadn't looked the least bit sad at Lesley's grave.

Jonathan's hoarse whispers from their wedding night echoed in her ears:

"In my heart, my Corrine is as fragile as a treasure."

"I can't bear to touch you. Let's wait until your legs recover, okay?"

So it wasn't restraint. He just wasn't interested.

Only now did Corrine finally understand the truth.

But what about all those nights before she knew? How many nauseating nights had they spent behind her back?

[Corrine, the matter you asked me to investigate has results.]

At that moment, a mysterious email popped up on her phone.

Looking at the screen, it finally confirmed her suspicion: Jonathan's mother's murder was closely tied to Lesley.

A faint, mocking smile flashed through Corrine's eyes.

She wondered what Jonathan's expression would look like when he heard this news.

"Uncle," she said softly after wiping away her tears, "help me book the next flight to Australia."

"My legs are healed, and I want a divorce from Jonathan."

Jonathan and the murderer he imprisoned will also pay the price!