My mother-in-law lowered her voice. "Are you sure she doesn't know?"

"Relax. If she knew, she would've called the cops ages ago."

Derek sneered. "She's too stupid to figure it out."

"Then the insurance…"

"We wait. Can't rush this."

He glanced at me. "She has to die on her own. No evidence."

I closed my eyes and smiled to myself.

When we got home, the familiar musty smell hit me immediately.

The bloodstains from when I'd crawled across the living room floor were still there, dried to a dark brown.

My mother-in-law clicked her tongue. "Bad luck everywhere."

She disappeared into the kitchen and returned with a bowl of pitch-black soup.

"Lexi, I stewed this tonic just for you. Drink it while it's hot."

A layer of oil floated on the surface, giving off a sour, rotten stench.

I recognized it instantly—yesterday's slop bucket.

"Mom, you're too good to me." I took the bowl, letting my hands shake.

The scalding slop splashed onto the brand-new carpet I'd just bought.

My mother-in-law screamed. "You jinx! That carpet cost over three thousand!"

She raised her hand to strike me.

I went with it, falling backward onto the floor covered in broken porcelain.

"Ah—"

I cried out, deliberately rolling once. The shards sliced several bloody gashes into my arm.

"Help! Someone's hitting me!"

Mrs. Lambert from next door happened to be passing by. Hearing the commotion, she pushed the door open.

"Oh my, what's going on here?"

She sucked in a sharp breath at the sight of me covered in blood.

"Lexi, you…"

"Mrs. Lambert…" I threw myself into her arms, crying, deliberately exposing the old bruises on my arm. "I accidentally knocked over the soup… and my mother-in-law tried to hit me…"

Mrs. Lambert's expression hardened.

She looked at the rancid slop on the floor, then at my mother-in-law's twisted face. Understanding dawned.

"This is abuse!"

Within minutes, the hallway filled with people. Neighbors pointed and whispered.

"I knew something was off about the Welch family. It's the holidays and they don't even turn on the lights."

"That girl's so sick, and they still make her do housework."

"Didn't Derek sell a kidney to save his wife? Why's she being treated like this?"

Derek rushed out. When he saw the scene, his face turned green.

His "devoted husband" image was his only asset at work. If word got out that he abused his sick wife, he'd be finished.

"It's all a misunderstanding!" He forced a smile. "My mom didn't mean it!"

"A misunderstanding?" Mrs. Lambert sneered. "Then explain the slop on the floor."

Derek's face cycled through blue and white.

He spun around and, in front of everyone, slapped his mother across the face.

"Mom! How could you treat Lexi like this!"

The crack echoed through the hallway.

His mother clutched her cheek, staring at him in disbelief.

"You… you hit me?"

"Lexi's health is fragile—how could you feed her garbage!"

Derek's voice was harsh. "Never again!"

She collapsed to the floor, thrashing and wailing.

"I raised you for thirty years, and you hit me for some woman!"

"I won't live anymore!"

Once they'd gotten their fill of the show, the neighbors dispersed.

Derek helped me up and gently patted my back.

"Lexi, I'm sorry. I didn't keep my mom in line."

"Tomorrow I'll take you shopping for new jewelry. Help you feel better."

I shrank into his arms, trembling.

But out of the corner of my eye, I caught my mother-in-law's venomous glare.

That night, she locked herself in her room and cried for hours.

Derek chain-smoked in the dark, one cigarette after another.

I lay on the bed, listening to the mother and son argue through the door.

"What exactly do you want me to do!" My mother-in-law's voice cracked between sobs and shouts. "She's a jinx! She got your dad killed, and now she's here to drag you down too!"

"Mom, can you calm down!" Derek lowered his voice. "The insurance thing still isn't done—don't make extra trouble!"

"I think you've been bewitched by her!"

"I'm doing it for the money!" He ground his teeth. "Once I get the payout, I'll be the first to send her to the afterlife!"

I closed my eyes, heart full of mockery.

Early the next morning, Derek actually took me to the mall. He picked out a gold necklace—eight thousand dollars. When it came time to pay, I watched his face twitch with pain.

"Do you like it?" He forced a smile.

"I like it." I nodded obediently. "Thank you, honey."

On the way home, I brought it up casually: "Oh right, I noticed my medicine seems a little off."

Derek's hand trembled on the steering wheel. "How so?"

"The color seems lighter." I tilted my head to look at him. "Did the doctor switch to a new one?"

"Maybe." His eyes flickered. "Did the doctor say anything?"

"No."

He let out a breath.

I knew he'd swapped my hemostatic medicine for vitamins. One more bleed, and I'd die from blood loss. Then he could take the policy and collect.

That night, Derek took a phone call. His face went ugly fast.

"What? Still need thirty thousand?" A pause. "Didn't I just pay it back last month?" Another pause. "Fine, fine, fine. I got it."

He hung up and viciously stubbed out his cigarette.

I pretended to ask casually, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." He brushed it off.

"Are you short on money?" I hesitated. "How about... I ask my brother?"

Derek's eyes lit up. "Ryan? Hasn't he always been doing badly?"

"Recently he made some money in business," I said softly. "He mentioned taking me to invest—guaranteed profit, no loss."

"Invest?" Derek perked up immediately. "What kind of investment?"

"Some internal project. I don't really understand the details." I shook my head. "He said you need a large principal to get in."

"How much?"

"At least five hundred thousand to start."

A greedy light flashed in his eyes. He started pacing the room, obviously calculating.

I kept adding fuel: "He said the return rate is really high. It can double in a month."

"Double?" Derek swallowed.

"Yeah, but spots are limited." I sighed. "Too bad we don't have that kind of money."

He fell silent.

After a while, he suddenly asked, "That insurance policy—where'd you put it?"

I pretended not to catch his meaning. "In the drawer. Why?"

"Let me see."

He dug out the policy impatiently, scanning until he found the beneficiary section. Seeing his own name, the corner of his mouth lifted.

"Lexi." He turned around, his gaze complicated. "You're so good to me."

"You're my husband." I smiled sweetly. "As long as you're doing well, I'm willing to do anything."

Derek hugged me and murmured against my ear. "Lexi, you know... if—I mean if—something really happened to you..."

"Yeah?"

"This money, I'll use it well." His voice trembled slightly. "I'll invest it, make big money, and then..."

He didn't finish the sentence.

But I knew.

Then marry the woman carrying his child and live like a king.

I leaned against his chest, feeling his heart pound.

Derek Welch. You think that insurance policy is your lifeline. But you have no idea—it's the death warrant I prepared for you.

That fine print on the back? You never even glanced at it.

Condition for activation: marriage remains intact with no documented domestic violence.

And on my phone, that video of you dumping ice water on me? Already backed up three times.