My mother-in-law, Martha Miller, dies after being struck by my husband's assistant, Layla Atkinson's car after the latter runs the red light. But the court verdict shows that Martha is the one scamming Layla.

I've filed appeals three times, yet I've lost all three.

Just as I'm about to file the fourth appeal, I find out that someone has stolen Martha's corpse.

I'm about to call the police when my attorney husband, Michael Sawyer, seeks me out. He even gives me three thousand dollars on the spot.

"You should know that I've never lost a case, Bianca. No matter how much evidence you have, you can forget about winning your mother's case.

"If I claim that your mother is scamming Layla, then she will forever be a scammer. The fact that you keep taking her case to court just means that you want more compensation. Anyway, I've already gotten someone to sell your mother's body to the black market. It's worth three thousand dollars in total, so I suppose that's the value of her life.

"Stop bothering Layla like a pest you are. She's kind enough to not make you pay for the damages her car has sustained, after all."

No wonder Michael keeps defending Layla. It turns out that he thinks my mom is the one who has died in the accident this whole time.

I just push the money back to him.

"You should keep the money. I don't have the right to take it."

My husband, Michael Sawyer, thought I was refusing the offer, and his voice immediately shot up.

"Three thousand dollars isn't enough for you? Get this straight, Bianca. Your mother was just an unemployed nobody.

"The fact that her death could bring your family this much money is already more than you deserve. Don't push your luck!"

I shook my head. "You've got it wrong. What I mean is, this is money earned from your family member's death. Only you should be taking it."

He frowned deeply, disgust written all over his face. "Hey, this money came from selling your mother's corpse. What does that have to do with my family? You think I'm as heartless as you? You think I'd take blood money like this?"

Michael had grown up in a single-parent household. His father died young, and his mother, Martha Miller—rest her soul—had raised him all by herself.

To pay for his dream of becoming a lawyer, she worked several jobs a day until she ruined her health. He saw it all growing up, so he had always been exceptionally loving and protective toward her.

At first, I couldn't understand why Martha's death did nothing to Michael. He never even came home. Instead, he threw himself into defending Layla Atkinson, the driver responsible for the fatal car accident.

The last thing I could've expected was that he had mistaken my mother for the victim.

I looked at Michael and said seriously, "Listen up, Michael. I suggest you return those three thousand dollars and retrieve Mom's body. She didn't have it easy raising you."

I thought I had made myself clear enough, but he didn't grasp my meaning.

Instead, he snapped in irritation, "Are you sick in the head? Since when did your mom ever raise me? And what did you think a black market was? You can't just buy back something that's been sold whenever you want!

"Your mom's body has probably been chopped up by now. There's no way to retrieve it. Just take the money and quit the nonsense!"

Martha might not be my biological mother, but she had been killed for no reason, falsely accused of staging a crash-for-cash scam. Now, her son had sold off her remains to the black market to be dismembered.

The thought of everything she had suffered made my eyes burn red.

"If you know exactly what the black market is capable of, how could you bring yourself to sell Mom's body there to be butchered like that? Are you even human?"

Michael curled his lips into a cruel smile. "She's your mom, not mine. Why would I care? Besides, dead people can't feel pain. If her body could be sold on the black market, I'd say she still had some value.

"And whose fault was it for not watching where she was going? Getting herself hit by a car was bad enough. She even gave Layla nightmares for days afterward!"

Looking at how smug and self-righteous he was, I honestly couldn't imagine what kind of look he would have when he found out the victim was actually his very own mother.

Faced with my silence, Michael continued, "Honestly, I always thought your mom had the face of someone destined to die young. Even if she hadn't been run over, she probably wouldn't have lived any longer. You should count yourself lucky to be getting three thousand dollars out of this!

"Now, take the money, buy something nice for Layla, and apologize to her at the office tomorrow. We'll put this whole matter to rest."

With that, Michael left the money behind and walked away without another glance.

As I watched his resolute figure disappear into the distance, it suddenly hit me. The lawyer who once fought for justice had completely rotted from the inside out. This marriage had also run its course.

…

The next day, I drafted the divorce agreement and went to Michael's law firm.

The moment I stepped into the office, I saw Michael, a man so severely germaphobic he hated physical contact, kneeling on one knee as he gently massaged Layla's foot.

There was a tenderness in his eyes that I had never received from him.

The instant Layla saw me, she pretended to look flustered. "Oh, Bianca. Please don't get this wrong. I-I twisted my ankle, and Mikey was only helping massage it for me out of kindness."

As she spoke, she quickly pulled her foot back and tugged at Michael's sleeve anxiously. "Mikey, hurry and explain! I don't want to lose my job…"

He patted her back affectionately and comforted her, "Hey, you're fine. She's here to apologize to you."

Then, he looked at me with open disdain, his voice turning cold. "Didn't I tell you to bring a gift or something? Why did you come empty-handed? I'm sure you're old enough to know how to apologize properly."

I couldn't be bothered arguing with him anymore. Coldly, I pulled the divorce agreement out of my bag and handed it to Michael. "Sign it. We're getting divorced."

He stared at the papers for a moment, visibly caught off guard. An irritated frown soon twisted his face.

"What are you up to this time? You know my mom only ever accepted you as her daughter-in-law. She'd never agree to us divorcing. You're doing all this just so she'll straighten me out, right?"

It seemed he still remembered Martha, after all.

I forced a bitter smile and coldly said, "She'll never be able to do that again."

Michael's face dropped. "What does that mean?"

I looked at him solemnly. "Go home and see for yourself."

He glared impatiently at me. "Alright. Enough with the games and riddles. So what if your mom died? Why are we still dragging this out? Get out of my office and stop embarrassing me. I'm not divorcing you."

Layla, who had been enjoying the show from the sidelines, suddenly wiped at her non-existent tears and began sobbing at just the right moment.

"Bianca, even though I bought my driver's license, and my driving skills are bad, what happened that day still wasn't my fault! You're trying to bring up divorce now to threaten Mikey into sending me to prison, aren't you?"

She looked so pitiful and wronged, as if she were the real victim in all of this. The teary, fragile look on her face immediately broke Michael's heart.

He pulled her straight into his arms. "Alright, Layla. Don't cry. As long as I'm here, you'll never go to jail."

Then, he glared at me. "Layla's just a kid, Bianca. Do you really have to target her like this? You think waving divorce papers in my face will make me stop defending her? Keep dreaming!

"I'm telling you, your mom died for nothing! You're not getting a single penny in compensation, and you will not lay a finger on Layla either!"

Watching Michael stand protectively in front of the woman who had killed his mother while directing that misplaced hostility toward me, I couldn't help feeling heartbroken for Martha all over again.

But forget it. If her son had taken this stance, then what right did I, a soon-to-be ex-wife, have to say anything more?

I took a deep breath and enunciated, "We're splitting up, whether you like it or not."

He was so livid that he tore the divorce agreement into pieces and tossed them into the air.

Gritting his teeth, Michael snarled, "You want to divorce me so badly? Fine! Let's do it! But let me make this clear. Even if we divorce, I'll be the one drafting the settlement agreement. I'll ruin your reputation and make sure you leave with nothing!

"I'm also going to make my mom see the truth. The daughter-in-law she adored is nothing more than a vile woman who exploited her mother's death for money and used lawsuits to extort others!"

Paper scraps scattered through the air around us. Through them, I saw the ruthless determination in Michael's eyes and the barely concealed smug smile on Layla's lips.

In the end, I said nothing. I turned around and walked out of the law firm.

After returning home, I silently began packing my belongings. By the time I dragged my suitcase downstairs and reached the entrance of the residential complex, a huge crowd swarmed toward me.

One after another, they shoved cameras and phones in my face, snapping photos and recording videos like a pack of vultures.

"Yeah, that's her! She's the one who told her elderly mother to stage a crash-for-cash scam!

"Apparently, after her mother got hit and died, she used her death to extort money. When extortion didn't work, she tried to squeeze money out through lawsuits instead!

"She practically drove a young lady fresh out of college into depression. That poor woman almost committed suicide a few times!

"Thankfully, that scammer's husband is an upright lawyer who stands for justice instead of blindly protecting his wife. He's been defending that innocent lady this whole time. Otherwise, who knows how badly that lady would've suffered?

"And now that her husband refused to go along with her scam, she threatened him with divorce. Look, she's even packed her bags and is ready to leave!"

Vicious accusations came nonstop. Through the crowd, I caught sight of Layla and Michael standing in the back with smug, gloating expressions.

So, this live stream was Michael's method of publicly destroying me. Judging by the reaction, it was working perfectly.

The live streamers at the scene kept fanning the flames, while the comments online were flooded with insults.

"Holy crap! What a vile woman! She sacrificed her own mother for money."

"I feel bad for her mother. How's she supposed to live long with a trash daughter like her?"

"I feel differently. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree. Her mom getting run over must be karma."

"Right? Why didn't the driver hit someone else? Why did it have to be her mother? That just proves her mom wasn't any better either."

The public outrage spread at terrifying speed. In no time, my photo became viral. They labeled me as a monster daughter, a human parasite, and a traffic-scam bitch.

With the streamers constantly stirring up the crowd, the onlookers started throwing coffee cups, energy drink cans, and fast-food packaging.

Stepping through the trash scattered over the ground, I walked straight through the crowd and stopped in front of Michael. "Are you really going to take things this far?"

He frowned slightly.

Before he could answer, Layla beat him to it with tear-filled eyes. "Bianca, I know your mother died, but I haven't had it easy these past few days either! I'm begging you, let me go! Stop targeting me already!"

Pain flashed across Michael's eyes as he looked at her before he turned back to me with cold resolve.

"You brought this upon yourself, Bianca. Your mother got run over because she was staging a scam. You never should've kept filing lawsuits to make things difficult for Layla.

"Her new car is damaged because of your dead mother. The fact that Layla didn't demand repair costs already shows how kind she is. Meanwhile, you're mindlessly dragging this out!

"No wonder your mom died early. You cursed her by being a wicked woman!"

The moment he finished speaking, my mother stepped out from the crowd and looked directly at him. "Who did you say died?"