My Mother Faked Her Death To Protect My Husband’s Mistress Chapter 01
The Night My Mother Dies
The night I find out Elliot is cheating, I turn the gas stove all the way up, hold a lighter, and ask if he wants to die with me.
Mom stops me, crying. The next day, I find her dead in bed, with her note: If one life can save your marriage, let it be mine.
After that, Elliot becomes the perfect husband, and I become the grieving daughter who takes pills, sees her dead mother everywhere, and learns not to trust her own eyes.
Until one winter evening, outside a restaurant, I see her again.
My dead mother.
—
I stop at the entrance.
For a few seconds, I cannot move.
She stands not far away in a dark coat, her hair tucked under a scarf. She is wearing sunglasses even though the sky is already gray, with half her face covered like she does not want anyone to recognize her.
My heart slams against my ribs.
No.
It is happening again.
I close my eyes.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five.
When I open them, she is still there.
I close my eyes again.
Ten more counts.
Still there.
She does not flicker. She does not disappear.
She turns and walks into a private room at the back of the restaurant like someone who belongs there.
My fingers go numb around my purse strap.
I follow her.
The hallway is dim and quiet. Soft music plays above my head.
The private room door is not fully closed.
A thin line of warm light spills across the floor.
Then I hear my mother’s voice.
“Elliot, this has been hard on you.”
My blood turns cold.
That voice.
I have heard it in my dreams for years. I have heard it in grocery stores, in elevators, outside my office, everywhere my mind tries to punish me.
But this time, it is not in my head.
It is behind the door.
And it is real.
Mom sighs, soft and familiar.
“But we had no choice. If we didn’t do this, June would have found out about you and Claire sooner or later. You know what she’s like. She would have hurt Claire.”
Elliot answers in a low voice.
“Mom, you’re the one who’s had it worse. You’ve had to hide for years just so June would believe you were really dead.”
Mom.
He calls her Mom.
Like he has the right. Like they are family, and I am the outsider standing behind the door.
My mother sighs again.
“As long as you treat Claire well, it’s worth it.”
I stand there without moving.
So this is the truth.
My mother never died.
The pill bottle was a prop.
The suicide note was a script.
They staged her death together.
All to protect my husband’s mistress.