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I am an assassin and have been golden for many years. In order to buy a house and get married to my husband, I decided to get back in the game and do another order. That night, I received an order from a customer starting with the letter S. But the moment I clicked on the information, cold sweat instantly wet my back. The woman in the photo was clearly myself. My entire body was staggered in front of the screen, unable to calm down for a long time. "Doesn't the outside world say that you are a gold medal killer? Do you need to think for so long just to kill a woman?" I shivered and lit a cigarette, the nicotine I ingested calming me down a little. After a long moment, I stared at the photo on my computer screen and lightly tapped the keyboard. "Mr. S, how do you want her to die?"
Chapter 1
I was a retired assassin, having left that life behind years ago.
To afford a house and marry my husband, I decided to take one last job.
That night, I received an order from a client whose name started with S.
But the moment I opened the file, cold sweat drenched my back.
The woman in the photo was unmistakably me.
I froze in front of the screen, unable to calm my racing thoughts.
"Doesn't the world call you a top-tier assassin? Is killing one woman really such a tough decision?"
I lit a cigarette with trembling hands, the nicotine steadying my nerves a bit.
After a long pause, I stared at the photo on the screen and tapped the keyboard. "Mr. S, how do you want her to die?"
1
"Doesn't matter how, as long as the police can't trace it back to me." The client, S, seemed impatient, replying almost instantly. "Oh, and make sure her organs stay intact."
Soon after, my account received a transfer from an overseas bank.
I snuffed out my cigarette, my gaze hollow.
Though I couldn't verify the client's details, I knew the target all too well.
The woman in the photo, smiling brightly, was me.
"What's your relationship with the woman in the picture?" I couldn't resist asking, hoping to confirm my suspicions.
The client, unprofessional and careless, didn't hold back. "She's my fiancée."
I suppressed my anger and pressed further. "If you're getting married, why kill her?"
Perhaps my question was too blunt, as S grew defensive. "What does that have to do with you killing her?"
I'd been married to Wilbur Spencer for years, and I knew he was too timid to even slaughter a chicken, let alone understand the rules of my trade.
So I tossed out an excuse to cover my tracks. "To keep you clean, I need to know the target's relationships. Otherwise, the police might start looking at you."
But the client wasn't convinced.
His reply was curt. "Just do your job. Nothing else concerns you."
His profile went offline, and no more messages came.
That was enough.
I now knew the man I shared a bed with every night had hired someone to kill me on the dark web.
When I chose to marry him, I defied my organization and swore off the assassin life for good.
Just last night, after we made love, he held me close, his face full of guilt. "It's my fault we're still stuck in this rundown apartment after all these years. But don't worry, once I get a permanent position, we'll buy a two-bedroom place in the suburbs. The company's benefits will cover the mortgage. I'm going to give you the grandest wedding."
His sweet words echoed in my ears, making me question if this was all a mistake.
But the cold, hard numbers in my bank account snapped me back to reality.
Five hundred thousand dollars.
Wibur Spencer, a lowly intern, could never have that kind of money.
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