The Wife He Tried To Erase Chapter 09
Half a month.
Emilia had been missing for a full half month.
A living, breathing person had vanished completely right under his nose.
Nicholas’s patience was finally exhausted.
That night, thunder and rain raged outside.
Nicholas returned to the bedroom and irritably yanked off his tie.
The bedroom still looked exactly as it had on the day Emilia left.
Her unfinished medication sat on the nightstand, and her favorite wooden comb lay on the dressing table.
Nicholas walked to the bedside and, as if compelled by some unseen force, reached out to touch the pillow.
It was icy cold, without a trace of warmth.
He suddenly threw back the quilt, trying to find any clue in this space that might reveal where she was hiding.
He tossed the pillow to the floor and yanked off the bedsheet.
It was not until his hand touched the crevice deep within the mattress that his fingertips brushed against something hard.
Nicholas froze for a moment.
He lifted the mattress with force and, from a very well-hidden compartment, retrieved a black voice recorder.
The recorder was rather old, its surface badly worn, clearly from being frequently handled by its owner.
Why had she hidden this? Was she recording his words as evidence?
Nicholas let out a cold laugh, a trace of mockery flashing in his eyes.
If she intended to use the recording to threaten him for a divorce settlement, then she was far too naive.
Holding the recorder, he walked to the sofa by the floor-to-ceiling window and sat down, his long fingers pressing the play button.
After the static, Emilia’s voice came through.
It was not the accusation he had expected, nor was it a hysterical curse.
Her voice was very weak, tinged with the hoarseness of someone just recovering from a serious illness, and in the background, the beeping of a monitor could be heard.
“Today is May 20, 2023. The 10th Modified Electroconvulsive Therapy session is over.”
Nicholas’s fingers paused slightly.
Was this… a treatment diary?
Nicholas’s grip on the recorder suddenly tightened.
That was during the early stage of treatment; he remembered that after that session, Emilia had stared blankly at him for a long time.
At the time, he had simply thought she was sulking, but in reality, she had truly forgotten.
He pressed “next.”
“Thirtieth session. It hurt so much today, my whole body was cramping. I remember I used to be a painter, but today when the nurse handed me a pen to sign, I couldn’t even write my name straight. Nicholas, it feels like my hand is ruined.”
“Fiftieth session. Valentina came today. She was wearing my white dress, holding your arm. You asked me if I still remembered where we had our first date. I smiled and said I did—it was by the Seine. You were so happy, you said I was recovering well. But actually… that was a lie. I don’t remember at all; I only remember that scene looked like something from a movie, so I made it up. It turns out, as long as I lie, you will smile at me.”
The study was deathly silent, with only the rolling thunder outside the window.
Nicholas felt as if a knife had been plunged deep into his heart, making it hard to breathe.
Had she been lying all along?
All those obedient nods, those gentle smiles—had they all been illusions she wove in the midst of unbearable pain?
“Eightieth session. The doctor said they need to increase the dosage. I heard the nurse crying; she said if this goes on, I’ll become an idiot. But you signed the papers. Nicholas, I watched you sign through the glass, your expression so cold. In that moment, I suddenly thought, if only I hadn’t saved you back then.”
Nicholas shot to his feet, his face deathly pale.
Saved him?
But it was Valentina who had saved him back then! In that car accident, it was Valentina who dragged him out of the burning car…